GRADE 7 TERM 4 · 4 071-eng-wb-t4- (Stories) Echo and Narcissus (a Greek Myth) While Reading the...
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GRADE 7 TERM 4 Name: _______________________________________ Class: ________________________________________
Transcript of GRADE 7 TERM 4 · 4 071-eng-wb-t4- (Stories) Echo and Narcissus (a Greek Myth) While Reading the...
GRADE 7 TERM 4
Name: _______________________________________
Class: ________________________________________
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In this workbook, we will;
learn different genres such as myth, fable, short story and newspaper article
compare and contrast different genres
analyze different types of text
write a different version of a short story
find literary devices such as simile, metaphor, repetition in different texts
and write our own
analyze the cultural backgrounds of different texts
Table of Contents
Term 4 Calendar____________________________________________________2
A: Myth - Echo and Narcissus__________________________________________3
B: Fable - Anansi and the Yam Hills______________________________________7
C.1.: Short Story – Siren Song_________________________________________12
C.2.: All Summer in a Day____________________________________________18
C.3.: The Widow and the Parrot_______________________________________ 27
D: Newspaper Articles______________________________________________ 36
Booklet Evaluation_________________________________________________ 44
Notes____________________________________________________________45
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Term 4 Calendar April 2017
Sun Mon Tue Wed Thu Fri Sat Notes:
1
10th Apri l – 16th Apri l Spring Break
2 3 4 5 6 7 8 Apr 23rd – National Sovereignty and Children's Day
9 10 11 12 13 14 15
16 17 18 19 20 21 22 17th Apri l – Term 4 s tarts
23 24 25 26 27 28
May 2017
Sun Mon Tue Wed Thu Fri Sat Notes:
1 2 3 4 5 6 1st May – Labour Day
19th May - The Commemoration of Atatürk Youth and
Sports Day
7 8 9 10 11 12 13 17th May – Term 4 Assessment
14 15 16 17 18 19 20
21 22 23 24 25 26 27 22nd May- Take Home -29th May-Hand in Take Home
28 29 30 31
June 2017
Sun Mon Tue Wed Thu Fri Sat Notes:
1 2 3 2nd June – Wri ting Assessment
16th June – Term 4 Ends
4 5 6 7 8 9 10
11 12 13 14 15 16 17
18 19 20 21 22 23 24
25 26 27 28 29 30
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A: Myth - Echo and Narcissus Before Reading
1. What do you see in the picture? How do you think it’s related to the myth Narcissus?
2. Look at the vocabulary chart and fill the empty boxes with appropriate answers.
Word Meaning Sentence
nymph (n.)
a beautiful young woman
(mythology)
treachery (n.)
When Sue betrayed her friend Alice by telling things told her in confidence to her little clique of friends; Alice was infuriated by Sue's treachery.
to keep away from (a place, person, object, etc.)
I'm going to shun my sister, because she broke my car windows.
yearn (v.)
I yearn to see my old friend again.
reciprocation (n.)
given or felt by each toward the other; mutual
gaunt (adj.)
extremely thin and bony
from great hunger or torture
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Echo and Narcissus (a Greek Myth)
While Reading the myth, underline the supernatural beings or events.
In Greek mythology Echo was a wood nymph who loved a youth by the name of Narcissus. He was a
beautiful creature loved by many, but Narcissus loved no one. He enjoyed attention, praise and envy. In
Narcissus' eyes nobody matched him, and as such he considered none were worthy of him.
Echo's passion for Narcissus was equaled only by her passion for talking, as she always had to have the last
word. One day she enabled the escape of the goddess Juno's adulterous husband by engaging Juno in
conversation. On finding out Echo's treachery Juno cursed Echo by removing her voice; she could only
speak which was spoken to her.
Echo often waited in the woods to see Narcissus, hoping for a chance to be noticed. One day as she lingered
in the bushes, Narcissus heard her footsteps and called out “Who's here?” Echo replied “Here!” Narcissus
called again "Come", Echo replied "Come!" Narcissus called once more “Why do you shun me? ... Let us
join one another.” Echo was overjoyed that Narcissus had asked her to join him. She longed to tell him
who she was and of all the love she had for him in her heart, but she could not speak. She ran towards him
and threw herself upon him.
Narcissus became angry “Hands off! I would rather die than you should have me!” and threw Echo to the
ground. Echo left the woods a ruin, her heart broken. Ashamed, she ran away to live in the mountains,
yearning for a love that would never be returned. The grief killed her. Her body became one with the
mountain stone. All that remained was her voice, which replied in kind when others spoke.
Narcissus continued to attract many nymphs, all of whom he briefly entertained before scorning and
refusing them. The gods grew tired of his behavior and cursed Narcissus. They wanted him to know what
it felt like to love and never be loved. They made it so there was only one whom he would love, someone
who was not real and could never love him back.
One day whilst out enjoying the sunshine Narcissus came upon a pool of water. As he gazed into it he
caught a glimpse of what he thought was a beautiful water spirit. He did not recognize his own reflection
and was immediately enamored. Narcissus bent down his head to kiss the vision. As he did so the reflection
mimicked his actions. Taking this as a sign of reciprocation Narcissus reached into the pool to draw the
water spirit to him. The water displaced and the vision was gone. He panicked – where had his love gone?
When the water became calm the water spirit returned. “Why, beautiful being, do you shun me? Surely
my face is not one to repel you. The nymphs love me, and you yourself look not indifferent upon me. When
I stretch forth my arms you do the same; and you smile upon me and answer my beckonings with the like.”
Again he reached out and again his love disappeared. Frightened to touch the water, Narcissus lay still by
the pool, gazing into the eyes of his vision.
He cried in frustration. As he did so Echo also cried. He did not move, he did not eat or drink, he only
suffered. As he pined, he became gaunt, losing his beauty. The nymphs that loved him pleaded with him
to come away from the pool. As they did so Echo also pleaded with him. He was transfixed; he wanted to
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stay there forever. Narcissus, like Echo, died with grief. His body disappeared, and where his body once
lay a flower grew in its place. The nymphs mourned his death, and as they mourned Echo also mourned.
After Reading
1. What supernatural beings or events did you underline in the myth? Write 2 examples.
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2. Do you know any myths from your country?
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3. Echo claims to love Narcissus. What do you think causes Echo's love? Is it the real thing? Why or why not?
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4. What is the significance of the fact that his own reflection became Narcissus’ weakness?
What does this symbolize in real life?
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5. What does “narcissism” mean? What can be the results of it when extreme?
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6. Narcissus loses his beauty because of his love for his own beauty. What can be the moral of
this myth related to vanity?
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What is the moral of this myth?
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What is a Myth?
a traditional story, especially
about the early history of
people or explaining a
natural or social
phenomenon, and typically
involving supernatural beings or events
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Research Time
Do a research on your iPads to find information about Narcissistic Personality Disorder (NPD) and write information about the following titles.
Definition:
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Causes:
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Symptoms:
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Treatment:
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Answer:
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Fun Fact
There is also a flower called Narcissus.
Why do you think it’s named after the mythological character?
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B: Fable - Anansi and the Yam Hills (African Fable)
Before Reading
1. What kind of characteristic features can you think of about spiders? What kind of a personality do
you think they have?
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2. Look at the vocabulary chart and fill the empty boxes with appropriate answers.
Word Meaning Sentence
recite (v.)
to repeat from memory
dumbfounded (adj.)
struck dumb with
astonishment
rely on (v.)
You can rely on Monica to do the job well; she is an
excellent worker.
an artificial small hill He decided to pile up five mounds of the rich brown
soil.
yam (n.)
snatched (v.)
The young man snatched the woman's purse from her
hands, and ran off down the street.
fowl (n.)
birds
which
are
hunted or kept for food
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Anansi and the Yam Hills
While reading, underline the parts where animals act like humans.
Once in a before time, there lived an old woman who had magical powers. Her name was 5. She was
also so evil that some people called her a witch. 5 hated her name. No one knows why her parents
named her the number 5. When she was a child, other children would make fun of her name.
Sometimes when she was within earshot, they would look out the corner of their eyes and giggle as they said.
"Give me 5!"
When she grew up, 5 decided to put an end to the name-calling. So, she created a weird spell.
"Anyone who says '5' will drop dead,” she said. Then she changed her mind. “From this day on, anyone
who says ‘5’ will disappear."
This spell immediately caused a problem in the country. No one could say that number again without
disappearing. Children could no longer recite their five times tables. People had to drop the word 'five' from their vocabulary. In 5’s village, the unlucky number was no longer 13.
Once, a customer asked a merchant, “How much is that blue T-shirt?”
“That shirt is 5 doh... ” Suddenly there was a loud “SWOOSH!” before the merchant could finish his sentence. He disappeared right in front of the dumbfounded customer's eyes!
A crafty spider named Anansi lived in 5's village. He had heard about the witch’s spell. Times were very
hard. Anansi was not a farmer and he had no food at all to eat. His wife and children were starving.
Since Anansi was small, and not a very good worker, he could only rely on his brain to get whatever he needed to survive.
He said to himself. "Things are tough, boy! I must make this witch's spell
work for me".
Anansi went to the road that led to the village's marketplace. He chose a
spot on the side of the road where everyone on the way to market would
have to pass. There, near a large Guangu tree, he decided to pile up five
mounds of the rich brown soil. These mounds he called "yam hills". In the top of each yam hill, he
planted an African yellow yam. Then he drove a stake next to the yam on which its vine could grow. Anansi carefully watered the yams until each one began to sprout.
Anansi made a web-like a hammock in the Guangu tree and patiently waited for someone to come by.
Early one morning, after each yam shoot had poked its head out of a mound, Anansi sat down next to his
yam hills. Soon, Brother Dog came by on his way to the market. Dog balanced a bankra basket of sweet-smelling fruits on his head as he walked down the road.
"Good morning Brother Dog," said Anansi in a sugary voice. "I know that you are busy, and I feel so
stupid. I am not an educated man like you. Would you help me to count how many yam hills I have
planted here?" Anansi asked. "You should have gone to school to learn how to count!" Brother Dog said grumpily as he walked away from Anansi towards the market.
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Anansi climbed up into the Guangu tree and waited. The next person to come by was Brother Bull. He
carried a large basket of fruits on his head. "Good day Bro' Bull." Anansi said in a sad voice. "Could you
just spare me one minute?" Anansi begged. "What can I do for you, Anansi?" Bro' Bull asked. "I was a
*yikki and sickly child. So, my parents did not send me to school. I never learned my ABC's. I planted all these yam hills... Can you help me to count them?" Anansi said. "But, of course Anansi" Bro' Bull replied.
"You have 1, 2, 3, 4, 5...." SWOOSH!
As he said that number, Brother Bull disappeared into thin air. The basket of sweet ripe fruits that he had
been carrying on his head, fell to the ground. Anansi snatched up the basket of fruits and rushed home to eat them all.
For a long time, Anansi did very well tricking some passersby into counting his yam hills. He grew fat
from all the baskets of food he had gathered. He had tricked Brothers Turtle, Owl, Mongoose, Hare,
Peenie-Wallie the firefly, and even the tough Bro' Scorpion.
Mrs. Guinea fowl was a nice young mother of newly hatched children. She could not say 'no' to anyone.
She and her husband shared the chore of selling their produce in the village. That day it was her turn to
go to the marketplace. She loaded up her hand basket and headed for the market. As she got closer to
the yam hills Anansi was nowhere in sight. Just as she was about to pass yam hill number 4, Anansi the
spider lowered himself down from his perch in the Guangu tree. He called out in his sugary voice. "Good
morning Mrs. Guinea Fowl. Could you help me with a problem?"
"Of course Anansi". The polite Mrs. Guinea Fowl said. "I have
these yam hills here, and I don't know how to count... Would you
help me? Pleeezz." Anansi begged. Mrs. Guinea Fowl, who had
seen Anansi trick Bro' Scorpion, walked over to the last yam hill and climbed up on top of it.
She said. “You have 1 ... 2 ... 3 ... 4 ... and the one I am standing on".
"What! What are you doing? That is not the way you count!" Anansi shouted angrily.
"What do you mean, Anansi?" Mrs. Guinea Fowl said.
"I don't know of any number called 'the one I'm standing on'. Start again!” Anansi ordered.
Mrs. Guinea Fowl began again. "You have 1, 2, 3, 4 ... and the one I am standing on".
"That is not what you are supposed to say!" Anansi shouted even more angrily.
"Well ... If you are so smart... What am I supposed to say?" Mrs. Guinea Fowl asked.
Anansi shouted, "You are supposed to say 1, 2, 3, 4, 5 ... Oops…”
Suddenly, Anansi disappeared, leaving Mrs. Guinea Fowl with all the loot that he had gotten from tricking his victims.
* yikki = small
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After Reading
1. Which animals are included in the fable?
What can you say about their personalities?
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2. Why did Anansi decide to trick his friends? Do you think it was right? Why/why not?
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3. Compare and contrast Anansi and Mrs. Guinea fowl’s wisdom and values using the Venn diagram.
Anansi Mrs. Guinea
4. What is the moral of this fable?
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5. Have you ever been tricked by a friend or a stranger before? What happened? How did you feel?
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Animals’ Roles in African Fables
Make a research about the roles of animals in African fables. Choose 4 of the animals below and find information about them.
Use this website for your research: http://www.thomsonsafaris.com/blog/animals-roles-east-african-mythology/
Animal 1: _______________
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Animal 2: _______________
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Animal 3: _______________
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Animal 4: _______________
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Hare Crocodile Hyena Elephant Lion Birds
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C.1.: Short Story
Siren Song by Vivien Alcock
Before Reading
1. Label the parts of a plot diagram using the labels in the box.
2. What do you think is the main difference between a short story and a myth or a fable?
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3. Are you a curious person? Would you ignore your parents’ warnings out of curiosity?
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Rising action
Resolution
Climax
Exposition
Falling action
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Siren Song
While reading, try to guess the meanings of the bold words and write the meanings in the chart at the
end of the story.
1 August 1981
Dear Tape Recorder, This is me. My name’s Roger and I’m nine years old today. You’re my birthday
present.
Happy birthday to me,
Happy birthday to you,
Happy birthday, dear both-of-us …
1 August 1982
R for Roger. R for Roger. This is Roger, mark ten, calling. I’m not going to bore you with a bite-by-
bite account of my birthday tea, like last year. This time only record the exciting moments in my life. Over
and out.
1 August 1983
My name is Roger Kent. I am eleven years old. I want to get this down in case anything happens to me.
I hate this village. I wish we hadn’t come to live here. There’s something funny about it. For one thing,
there are no other children here. Except Billy Watson, and he’s weird. He’s a thin, white-faced boy who
jumps when you speak to him. Mom says he’s been ill, and I must be kind. I was. I asked him to come to
my birthday tea today. He twitched like I’d stabbed him in the back, and his eyes scuttled about like
beetles. Then he mumbled something and ran off.
The grown-ups are peculiar too. They’re old and baggy-eyed, as if they’d been crying all night. When
they see me, they stop talking. They watch me. It’s a bit scary. At first I thought they didn’t like me. But
it’s not that. They look as if they know something terrible’s going to happen to me, and are sorry about it.
Mrs. Mason’s the worst. I hate the way she looks at me. Her eyes are… I dunno . . . sort of hungry. I
don’t mean she’s a cannibal. It’s more like . . . D’you know why gerbils sometimes eat their own babies?
It’s because they’re afraid they’re in danger, and think they’ll be safer back inside.
That’s just how Mrs. Mason looks at me. As if she’d like to swallow me to keep me safe. But what
from?
This morning, when she heard it was my birthday, she hugged me. I jerked away. I didn’t mean to be
rude . I honestly thought she was going to start nibbling my ear. That’s the sort of state I’m in.
I “never go out at night,” she said. (That’s nothing. Mom’s always telling me that nowadays. It’s what
came next.) “Never go out at night, whatever sounds you hear!” Funny thing to say, wasn’t it? “Whatever
sounds you hear.” I’ve been thinking and thinking, but I can’t imagine what she meant. If we lived by the
sea, I’d think of smugglers. You know, like that poem – “Watch the wall, my darling, while the gentlemen
go by.”
Perhaps they’re witches! I’m not being silly. There are – witches nowadays. It was in the papers once:
COVEN OF WITCHES EXPOSED, it said. They certainly were exposed! There was this photograph of
men and women with nothing on. Not that you could see much, only their backs. They didn’t look wild
and exciting at all. Just stupid. And cold—you could almost see the goose pimples. Still, they were
witches.
D’you think it’s that?
Full moon tonight. I’m going to stay awake and listen. It must be happening somewhere near enough
for me to hear, or she wouldn’t have said that. Supposing they use our garden? Suppose Mom’s joined
them! She’s been a bit strange lately. No, that’s silly.
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22.30 P.M. I’m sitting by the window. Nothing’s happened yet. Just the usual night noises, and not many
of those. This village dies after ten o’clock. A dog barking. An owl getting on my nerves, can’t the stupid
thing say anything else?
It’s boring, I think I’ll go to bed for a bit.
0.00. I’ve got a digital clock and that’s what it says. Like Time’s laid eggs in a row. No time. Nothing
point nothing nothing time. Don’t count your minutes before they’re hatched.
What’s that?
Only an owl. The window’s wide open, and it’s cold. The moon is round and bright. There are shadows
all over the garden. I can’t see anything. It’s very quiet now, No wind.
Listen!
Children! I can hear children laughing. I can hear their voices calling softly …
I think they’re in Billy Watson’s garden. He must be having a midnight party, and he hasn’t asked me!
Pig! No wonder he ran off when I invited him to tea.
I wish I could see them. There’re too many trees. Too many shadows.
Listen!
This microphone’s too small, I held it out of the window, but I didn’t get anything.
They were singing. Their voices were high and clear. I could hear every word. It was a funny little
tune. Sort of sad, but nice, There’s a chorus where they all hoot softly like baby owls. I think I can
remember the words—
“Little ghost, all dressed in white,
Walking on a summer’s night,
(Hooo, hooo,)
Calling to her childhood friend,
Asking him to come and play,
But his hair stands up on end.
Billy Watson runs ‘away.’”
Billy Watson! So they are friends of his! I suppose they’re playing a game …
Listen …
It was a girl singing alone this time. I’m sure it was a girl. Her voice was so high and sweet and sad, it
made me ache. This is what she sang—
“Don’t you love me anymore?
I’m as pretty as before.
(Hooo, hooo,)
Though my roses all are gone,
Lily-white is just as sweet.
Stars shine through me now, not on
Flesh that’s only so much meat.”
I wish I could see her …
“Coo-ee! Over here!”
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They heard me. I know they did. They’re whispering. Now they’re coming nearer. I can hear the
bushes rustling by our wall. Look! I think one of them’s slipped over into our garden. It’s difficult to be
sure. There are so many shadows. I’m going to dangle the microphone out of the window. . . .
Listen!
“Billy, see the moon is bright.
Won’t you play with me tonight?
(Hooo, hooo,)
Billy Watson’s now in bed,
With his fingers in his ears,
And his blankets hide his head,
And his face is wet with tears.”
I got it that time! It’s very faint, but you can just make out the words. I don’t think they can be friends of
Billy’s after all. They sounded as if they were mocking him, I wonder who they are?
Oh, they’re going away now! I can hear them running through the bushes. Laughing. They’ve gone!
No. There’s still one standing in the shadow of the lilac tree. Just below my window. I’m sure it’s the girl.
I can see her white frock gleaming … unless it’s just moon-light. She’s all alone now. Waiting for me.
Listen!
“Little ghost all dressed in white
Singing sadly in the alight,
(Hooo, hooo,)
Who will play with me instead?
Must I be lonely till the end?
Is there any child abed
Brave enough to be my friend?”
I’m coming! Wait for me! I know I promised Mom I’d never go out at night, but … The moon is shining
bright as day. Someone is singing in the garden below. Softly. Sweetly. Surely it won’t matter if I go out
just once?
The rest of the tape is blank. Roger Kent was never seen again.
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1. Check the meanings of the words and write your own sentences.
Word Meaning Sentence
to twitch (v.)
to scuttle about (v.)
peculiar (adj.)
rude (adj.)
to rustle (v.)
to gleam (v.)
abed (adv)
2. What is a short story?
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After Reading
1. Which literary devices are used in the short story to make it more effective? Write 2 different
examples.
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b. _______________________________________________________________________________
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2. Foreshadowing is a good way to raise curiosity in short stories. Write an example of foreshadowing
used in Siren Song.
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3. How is the storytelling style different in this short story than regular short stories? How does it affect
the reader?
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4. If Roger Kent was found 2 years later, what would his birthday tape recording be like?
1 August 1985
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C.2.: All Summer in a Day
Before Reading
1. Fill in the vocabulary chart with the missing information. Use http://dictionary.reference.com/ to
find meanings and use http://www.thesaurus.com/ to find synonyms and antonyms.
Word Meaning Synonym Antonym
stunned (n.) amazed,
astonished
recall (v.)
slacken (v.)
barely (adv.)
dim (adj.) bright, cheerful
plead (v.)
savor (v.)
2. Watch the movie version of the short story “All Summer in a Day” and take notes while watching.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cV-rzGx21rw
Notes:
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You are the Author!
Write your version of the short story “All Summer in a Day”. The parts of a plot are already separated
below. The first and the last sentences of the original story is given.
”All Summer in a Day” by __________________________
No one in the class could remember a time when there wasn ’t rain.
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Exp
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Ris
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acti
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They unlocked the door, even more slowly, and let Margot out.
Clim
ax
Falli
ng
acti
on
s R
eso
luti
on
21 071-eng-wb-t4- (Stories)
Now read the original version of the short story and underline the parts that are different
from the movie.
“All Summer in a Day” by Ray Bradbury
No one in the class could remember a time when there wasn’t rain.
“Ready?”
“Ready.”
“Now?”
“Soon.”
“Do the scientists really know? Will it happen today, will it?”
“Look, look; see for yourself!”
The children pressed to each other like so many roses, so many weeds, intermixed, peering out for a look at the hidden sun.
It rained.
It had been raining for seven years; thousands upon thousands of days compounded and filled from one
end to the other with rain, with the drum and gush of water, with the sweet crystal fall of showers and
the concussion of storms so heavy they were tidal waves come over the islands. A thousand forests had
been crushed under the rain and grown up a thousand times to be crushed again. And this was the way
life was forever on the planet Venus, and this was the schoolroom of the children of the rocket men and
women who had come to a raining world to set up civilization and live out their lives.
“It’s stopping, it’s stopping!”
“Yes, yes!”
Margot stood apart from these children who could never remember a time when there wasn’t rain and
rain and rain. They were all nine years old, and if there had been a day, seven years ago, when the sun
came out for an hour and showed its face to the stunned world, they could not recall. Sometimes, at
night, she heard them stir, in remembrance, and she knew they were dreaming and remembering and
old or a yellow crayon or a coin large enough to buy the world with. She knew they thought they
remembered a warmness, like a blushing in the face, in the body, in the arms and legs and trembling
hands. But then they always awoke to the tatting drum, the endless shaking down of clear bead necklaces upon the roof, the walk, the gardens, the forests, and their dreams were gone.
All day yesterday they had read in class about the sun. About how like a lemon it was, and how hot. And they had written small stories or essays or poems about it:
I think the sun is a flower,
That blooms for just one hour.
That was Margot’s poem, read in a quiet voice in the still classroom while the rain was falling outside.
22 071-eng-wb-t4- (Stories)
”Aw, you didn’t write that!” protested one of the boys.
“I did,” said Margot. “I did.”
“William!” said the teacher.
But that was yesterday. Now the rain was slackening, and the children were crushed in the great thick windows.
“Where’s teacher?”
“She’ll be back.”
“She’d better hurry, we’ll miss it!”
They turned on themselves, like a feverish wheel, all tumbling spokes.
Margot stood alone. She was a very frail girl who looked as if she had been lost in the rain for years and
the rain had washed out the blue from her eyes and the red from her mouth and the yellow from her
hair. She was an old photograph dusted from an album, whitened away, and if she spoke at all her voice
would be a ghost. Now she stood, separate, staring at the rain and the loud wet world beyond the huge
glass.
“What’re you looking at?” said William.
Margot said nothing.
“Speak when you’re spoken to.” He gave her a shove. But she did not move; rather she let herself by moved only by him and nothing else.
They edged away from her, they would not look at her. She felt them go away. And this was because she
would play no games with them in the echoing tunnels of the underground city. If they tagged her and
ran, she stood blinking after them and did not follow. When the class sang songs about happiness and
life and games her lips barely moved. Only when they sang about the sun and the summer did her lips move as she watched the drenched windows.
And then, of course, the biggest crime of all was that she had come here only five years ago from Earth,
and she remembered the sun and the way the sun was and the sky was when she was four in Ohio. And
they, they had been on Venus all their lives, and they had been only two years old when last the sun
came out and had long since forgotten the color and heat of it and the way it really was. But Margot
remembered.
“It’s like a penny,” she said once, eyes closed.
“No it’s not!” the children cried.
“It’s like a fire,” she said, “in the stove.”
“You’re lying, you don’t remember!” cried the children.
But she remembered and stood quietly apart from all of them and watched the patterning windows. And
once, a month ago, she had refused to shower in the school shower rooms, had clutched her hands to her ears and over her head, screaming the water mustn’t touch her head.
So after that, dimly, dimly, she sensed it, she was different and they knew her difference and kept aw ay.
23 071-eng-wb-t4- (Stories)
There was talk that her father and mother were taking her back to earth next year; it seemed vital to her
that they do so, though it would mean the loss of thousands of dollars to her family. And so, the children
hated her for all these reasons of big and little consequence. They hated her pale snow face, her waiting silence, her thinness, and her possible future.
“Get away!” The boy gave her another push. “What’re you waiting for?”
Then, for the first time, she turned and looked at him. And what she was waiting for was in her eyes.
“Well, don’t wait around here!” cried the boy savagely. “You won’t see nothing!”
Her lips moved.
“Nothing!” he cried. “It was all a joke, wasn’t it?” He turned to the other children. “Nothing’s happening today. Is it?”
They all blinked at him and then, understanding, laughed and shook their heads. “Nothing, nothing!”
“Oh, but,” Margot whispered, her eyes helpless. “But this is the day, the scientists predict, they say, they
know, the sun. . . .”
“All a joke!” said the boy, and seized her roughly. “Hey, everyone, let’s put her in a closet before teacher comes!”
“No,” said Margot, falling back.
They surged about her, caught her up and bore her, protesting, and then pleading, and then crying, back
into a tunnel, a room, a closet, where they slammed and locked the door. They stood looking at the door
and saw it tremble from her beating and throwing herself against it. They heard her muffled cries. Then, smiling, they turned and went out and back down the tunnel, just as the teacher arrived.
“Ready, children?” she glanced at her watch.
“Yes!” said everyone.
“Are we all here?”
“Yes!”
The rain slackened still more.
They crowded to the huge door.
The rain stopped.
It was as if, in the midst of a film, concerning an avalanche, a tornado, a hurricane, a volcanic eruption,
something had, first, gone wrong with the sound apparatus, thus muffling and finally cutting off all noise,
all of the blasts and repercussions and thunders, and then, second, ripped the film from the projector
and inserted in its place a peaceful tropical slide which did not move or tremor. The world ground to a
standstill. The silence was so immense and unbelievable that you felt your ears had been stuffed or you
had lost your hearing altogether. The children put their hands to their ears. They stood apart. The door
slid back and the smell of the silent, waiting world came in to them.
The sun came out.
24 071-eng-wb-t4- (Stories)
It was the color of flaming bronze and it was very large. And the sky around it was a blazing blue tile
color. And the jungle burned with sunlight as the children, released from their spell, rushed out, yelling, into the springtime.
“Now don’t go too far,” called the teacher after them. “You’ve only two hours, you know. You wouldn’t want to get caught out!”
But they were running and turning their faces up to the sky and feeling the sun on their cheeks like a warm iron; they were taking off their jackets and letting the sun burn their arms.
“Oh, it’s better than the sun lamps, isn’t it?”
“Much, much better!”
They stopped running and stood in the great jungle that covered Venus that grew and never stopped
growing, tumultuously, even as you watched it. It was a nest of octopi, clustering up great arms of flesh -
like weed, wavering, flowering this brief spring. It was the color of rubber and ash, this jungle, from the
many years without sun. It was the color of stones and white cheeses and ink, and it was the color of the
moon.
The children lay out, laughing, on the jungle mattress, and heard it si gh and squeak under them, resilient
and alive. They ran among the trees, they slipped and fell, they pushed each other, they played hide-and-
seek and tag, but most of all they squinted at the sun until the tears ran down their faces, they put their
hands up to that yellowness and that amazing blueness and they breathed of the fresh, fresh air and
listened and listened to the silence which suspended them in a blessed sea of no sound and no motion.
They looked at everything and savored everything. Then, wildly, like animals escaped from their caves,
they ran and ran in shouting circles. They ran for an hour and did not stop running.
And then—
In the midst of their running one of the girls wailed.
Everyone stopped.
The girl, standing in the open, held out her hand.
“Oh, look, look,” she said, trembling.
They came slowly to look at her opened palm.
In the center of it, cupped and huge, was a single raindrop.
She began to cry, looking at it.
They glanced quietly at the sky.
“Oh. Oh.”
A few cold drops fell on their noses and their cheeks and their mouths. The sun faded behind a stir of
mist. A wind blew cool around them. They turned and started to walk back toward the underground house, their hands at their sides, their smiles vanishing away.
A boom of thunder startled them and like leaves before a new hurricane, they tumbled upon each other
and ran. Lightning struck ten miles away, five miles away, a mile, a half mile. The sky darkened into
midnight in a flash.
25 071-eng-wb-t4- (Stories)
They stood in the doorway of the underground for a moment until it was raining hard. Then they closed
the door and heard the gigantic sound of the rain falling in tons and avalanches, everywhere and forever.
“Will it be seven more years?”
“Yes. Seven.”
Then one of them gave a little cry.
“Margot!”
“What?”
“She’s still in the closet where we locked her.”
“Margot.”
They stood as if someone had driven them, like so many stakes, into the floor. They looked at each other
and then looked away. They glanced out at the world that was raining now and raining and raining
steadily. They could not meet each other’s glances. Their faces were solemn and pale. They looked at their hands and feet, their faces down.
”Margot.
One of the girls said, “Well . . .?”
No one moved.
“Go on,” whispered the girl.
They walked slowly down the hall in the sound of the cold
rain. They turned through the doorway to the room in the
sound of the storm and thunder, lightning on their faces,
blue and terrible. They walked over to the closest door
slowly and stood by it.
Behind the closed door was only silence.
They unlocked the door, even more slowly, and let Margot out.
After Reading
1. Why doesn’t Margot fit in with the other children?
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2. How have the people on Venus adapted to the rainy climate?
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26 071-eng-wb-t4- (Stories)
3. This story uses many comparisons to present ideas. For example, when the children recall that
Margot was left behind in the closet, the author writes, “They stood as if someone had driven them,
like so many stakes, into the floor.” Two kinds of literary comparisons are similes and metaphors.
Write your own similes or metaphors in a description of some part of the story or one of the
characters. You might describe Margot, life on Venus, Venus’s climate, or how the Sun appears to
the children.
a. Similes:
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b. Metaphors:
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4. Compare the 2 versions of the story (the movie version, the Ray Bradbury version and your version)
and write down some similarities and differences.
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27 071-eng-wb-t4- (Stories)
C.3.: The Widow and the Parrot Pre-reading – Discuss these questions in your group and write down your final answer.
1. Are pets important to people? Why (not)? __________________________________________________________________________________
2. Would you think that people who interact with animals are weird? Why (not)? ____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________ Vocabulary - All the words below are connected to our story. Look up their meaning in the dictionary and write down their synonyms in the space provided. Then, briefly discuss with a friend how they could be part of the story.
1. Clergyman (n): _______________________________________________________________
2. Solicitors (n): ________________________________________________________________
3. Lame (adj): __________________________________________________________________
4. Ablaze (adj): _________________________________________________________________
5. Extinguish (v): _______________________________________________________________
6. Miraculous (adj): _____________________________________________________________
7. Sagacity (n): _________________________________________________________________
Read the story (taken from Prentice Hall Literature)
The Widow and the Parrot: A True Story
by Virginia Woolf (1882 – 1941)
Some fifty years ago, Mrs. Gage, an elderly widow, was sitting in her
cottage in a village called Spilsby in Yorkshire. Although lame, and
rather short-sighted she was doing her best to mend a pair of clogs,
for she had only a few shillings a week to live on. As she hammered
at the clog, the postman opened the door and threw a letter into her
lap. It bore the address ‘Messrs. Stagg and Beetle, 67 High Street,
Lewes, Sussex.'
Mrs. Gage opened it and read: ‘Dear Madam: We have the honour
to inform you of the death of your brother Mr Joseph Brand.'
‘Lawk a mussy,‘ said Mrs Gage. ‘Old brother Joseph gone at last!’
‘He has left you his entire property', the letter went on, ‘which consists of a dwelling house, stable,
cucumber frames, mangles, wheelbarrows etc., etc. in the village of Rodmell, near Lewes. He also
bequeaths to you his entire fortune; Viz: £ 3,000. (three thousand pounds) sterling.'
28 071-eng-wb-t4- (Stories)
Mrs Gage almost fell into the fire with joy. She had not seen her brother for many years, and, as he did not
even acknowledge the Christmas card which she sent him every year, she thought that his miserly habits,
well known to her from childhood, made him grudge even a penny stamp for a reply. But now it had all
turned out to her advantage. With three thousand pounds, to say nothing of house etc., etc., she and her
family could live in great luxury for ever.
She determined that she must visit Rodmell at once. The village clergyman, the Rev Samuel Tallboys, lent
her two pound ten, to pay her fare, and by next day all preparations for her journey were complete. The
most important of these was the care of her dog Shag during her absence, for in spite of her poverty she
was devoted to animals, and often went short herself rather than stint her dog of his bone.
She reached Lewes late on Tuesday night. In those days, I must tell you, there was no bridge over the river
at Southease, nor had the road to Newhaven yet been made. To reach Rodmell it was necessary to cross
the river Ouse by a ford, traces of which still exist, but this could only be attempted at low tide, when the
stones on the river bed appeared above the water. Mr Stacey, the farmer, was going to Rodmell in his cart,
and he kindly offered to take Mrs Gage with him. They reached Rodmell about nine o‘clock on a November
night and Mr Stacey obligingly pointed out to Mrs Gage the house at the end of the village which had been
left to her by her brother. Mrs Gage knocked at the door. There was no answer. She knocked again. A very
strange high voice shrieked out ‘Not at home.’ She was so much taken aback that if she had not heard
footsteps coming she would have run away. However the door was opened by an old village woman, by
name Mrs Ford.
‘Who was that shrieking out "Not at home"? said Mrs Gage.
‘Drat the bird’ said Mrs Ford very peevishly, pointing to a large grey parrot. ‘He almost screams my head
off. There he sits all day humped up on his perch like a monument screeching "Not at home" if ever you
go near his perch.' He was a very handsome bird, as Mrs Gage could see; but his feathers were sadly
neglected. ‘Perhaps he is unhappy, or he may be hungry,’ she said. But Mrs Ford said it was temper merely;
he was a seaman’s parrot and had learnt his language in the east. However, she added, Mr Joseph was
very fond of him, had called him James; and, it was said, talked to him as if he were a rational being. Mrs
Ford soon left. Mrs Gage at once went to her box and fetched some sugar which she had with her and
offered it to the parrot, saying in a very kind tone that she meant him no harm, but was his old master’s
sister, come to take possession of the house, and she would see to it that he was as happy as a bird could
be. Taking a lantern she next went round the house to see what sort of property her brother had le ft her.
lt was a bitter disappointment. There were holes in all the carpets. The bottoms of the chairs had fallen
out. Rats ran along the mantelpiece. There were large toadstools growing through the kitchen floor. There
was not a stick of furniture worth seven pence halfpenny; and Mrs Gage only cheered herself by thinking
of the three thousand pounds that lay safe and snug in Lewes Bank.
She determined to set off to Lewes the next day in order to claim her money from Messrs Stagg and Beetle
the solicitors, and then to return home as quickly as she could. Mr Stacey, who was going to the market
with some fine Berkshire pigs, again offered to take her with him, and told her some terrible stories of
29 071-eng-wb-t4- (Stories)
young people who had been drowned through trying to cross the river at high tide, as they drove. A great
disappointment was in store for the poor old woman directly she got in to Mr Stagg’s office.
‘Pray take a seat, Madam,’ he said, looking very solemn and grunting slightly. ‘The fact is,' he went on,
‘that you must prepare to face some very disagreeable news. Since I wrote to you I have gone carefully
through Mr Brand’s papers. I regret to say that I can find no trace whatever of the three thousand pounds.
Mr Beetle, my partner, went himself to Rodmell and searched the premises with the utmost care. He found
absolutely nothing - no gold, silver, or valuables of any kind - except a fine grey parrot which I advise you
to sell for whatever he will fetch. His language, Benjamin Beetle said, is very extreme. But that is neither
here nor there. I much fear you have had your journey for nothing. The premises are dilapidated; and of
course our expenses are considerable.' Here he stopped, and Mrs Gage well knew that he wished her to
go. She was almost crazy with disappointment. Not only had she borrowed two pound ten from the Rev.
Samuel Tallboys, but she would return home absolutely empty handed, for the parrot James would have
to be sold to pay her fare. It was raining hard, but Mr Stagg did not press her to stay, and she was too
beside herself with sorrow to care what she did. In spite of the rain she started to walk back to Rodmell
across the meadows.
Mrs Gage, as I have already said, was lame in her right leg. At the best of times she walked slowly, and
now, what with her disappointment and the mud on the bank her progress was very slow indeed. As she
plodded along, the day grew darker and darker, until it was as much as she could do to keep on the raised
path by the river side. You might have heard her grumbling as she walked, and complaining of her crafty
brother Joseph, who had put her to all this trouble ‘Express,’ she said, ‘to plague me. He was always a cruel
little boy when we were children,' she went on. ‘He liked worrying the poor insects, and I’ve known him
trim a hairy caterpillar with a pair of scissors before my very eyes. He was such a miserly varmint too. He
used to hide his pocket money in a tree, and if anyone gave him a piece of iced cake for tea, he cut the
sugar off and kept it for his supper. I make no doubt he’s all aflame at this very moment in Hell fire, but
what‘s the comfort of that to me?’ she asked, and indeed it was very little comfort, for she ran slap into a
great cow which was coming along the bank, and rolled over and over in the mud.
She picked herself up as best she could and trudged on again. It seemed to her that she had been walking
for hours. It was now pitch dark and she could scarcely see her own hand before her nose. Suddenly she
bethought her of Farmer Stacey’s words about the ford. ‘Lawk a mussy,’ she said, ‘however shall I find my
way across? If the tide‘s in, I shall step into deep water and be swept out to sea in a jiffy! Many’s the couple
that been drowned here; to say nothing of horses, carts, herds of cattle, and stacks of hay. ’
Indeed what with the dark and the mud she had got herself into a pretty pickle. She
could hardly see the river itself, let alone tell whether she had reached the ford or
not. No lights were visible anywhere, for, as you may be aware, there is no cottage
or house on that side of the river nearer than Asheham House, lately the seat of Mr
Leonard Woolf. It seemed that there was nothing for it but to sit down and wait for
the morning. But at her age, with the rheumatics in her system, she might well die
of cold. On the other hand, if she tried to cross the river it was almost certain that
she would be drowned. So miserable was her state that she would gladly have
changed places with one of the cows in the field. No more wretched old woman
30 071-eng-wb-t4- (Stories)
could have been found in the whole county of Sussex; standing on the river bank, not knowing whether to
sit or to swim, or merely to roll over in the grass, wet though it was, and sleep or freeze to death, as her
fate decided.
At that moment a wonderful thing happened. An enormous light shot up into the sky, like a gigantic torch,
lighting up every blade of grass, and showing her the ford not twenty yards away. It was low tide, and the
crossing would be an easy matter if only the light did not go out before she had got over.
‘It must be a Comet or some such wonderful monstrosity,’ she said as she hobbled across. She could see
the village of Rodmell brilliantly up in front of her.
‘BIess us and save us!’ she cried out. ‘There’s a house on fire - thanks be to the Lord’ - for she reckoned
that it would take some minutes at least to burn a house down, and in that time she would be well on her
way to the village.
‘It’s an ill wind that blows nobody any good,’ she said as she hobbled along the Roman road. Sure enough,
she could see every inch of the way, and was almost in the village street when for the first time it struck
her, ‘Perhaps it’s my own house that‘s blazing to cinders before my eyes!'
She was perfectly right.
A small boy in his nightgown came capering up to her and cried out,
‘Come and see old Joseph Brand’s house ablaze!'
All the villagers were standing in a ring round the house handing
buckets of water which were filled from the well in Monk’s House
kitchen, and throwing them on the flames. But the fire had got a strong
hold, and just as Mrs Gage arrived, the roof fell in.
‘Has anybody saved the parrot?' she cried.
‘Be thankful you’re not inside yourself, Madam,' said the Rev James
Hawkesford, the clergyman. ‘Do not worry for the dumb creatures. I
make no doubt the parrot was mercifully suffocated on his perch.’
But Mrs Gage was determined to see for herself. She had to be held
back by the village people, who remarked that she must be crazy to hazard her life for a bird.
‘Poor old woman,’ said Mrs Ford, ‘she has lost all her property, save one old wooden box, with her night
things in it. No doubt we should be crazed in her place too.’
So saying, Mrs Ford took Mrs Gage by the hand and led her off to her own cottage, where she was to sleep
the night. The fire was now extinguished, and everybody went home to bed.
31 071-eng-wb-t4- (Stories)
But poor Mrs Gage could not sleep. She tossed and tumbled thinking of her miserable state, and wondering
how she could get back to Yorkshire and pay the Rev Samuel Tallboys the money she owed him. At the
same time she was even more grieved to think of the fate of the poor parrot James. She had taken a liking
to the bird, and thought that he must have an affectionate heart to mourn so deeply for the death of old
Joseph Brand, who had never done a kindness to any human creature. It was a terrible death for an
innocent bird, she thought; and if only she had been in time, she would have risked her own life to save
his.
She was lying in bed thinking these thoughts when a slight tap at the window made her start. The tap was
repeated three times over. Mrs Gage got out of bed as quickly as she could and went to the window. There,
to her utmost surprise, sitting on the window ledge was an enormous parrot. The rain had stopped and it
was a fine moonlight night. She was greatly alarmed at first, but soon recognised the grey parrot, James,
and was overcome with joy at his escape. She opened the window, stroked his head several times, and
told him to come in. The parrot replied by gently shaking his head from side to side, then flew to the
ground, walked away a few steps, looked back as if to see whether Mrs Gage were coming, and then
returned to the window sill, where she stood in amazement.
‘The creature has more meaning in its acts than we humans know,’ she said to herself. ‘Very well, James,'
she said aloud, talking to him as though he were a human being, ‘l’ll take your word for it. Only wait a
moment while I make myself decent.’
So saying she pinned on a large apron, crept as lightly as possible downstairs, and let herself out without
rousing Mrs Ford.
The parrot James was evidently satisfied. He now
hopped briskly a few yards ahead of her in the
direction of the burnt house. Mrs Gage followed as
fast as she could. The parrot hopped, as if he knew his
way perfectly, round to the back of the house, where
the kitchen had originally been. Nothing now
remained of it except the brick floor, which was still
dripping with the water, which had been thrown to
put out the fire. Mrs Gage stood still in amazement
while James hopped about, pecking here and there,
as if he were testing the bricks with his beak. It was a
very uncanny sight, and had not Mrs Gage been in the
habit of living with animals, she would have lost her
head, very likely, and hobbled back home. But stranger things yet were to happen. All this time the parrot
had not said a word. He suddenly got into a state of the greatest excitement, fluttering his wings, tapping
the floor repeatedly with his beak, and crying so shrilly, ‘Not at home! Not at home!' that Mrs Gage feared
that the whole village would be roused.
‘Don't take on so James; you’ll hurt yourself,’ she said soothingly. But he repeated his attack on the bricks
more violently than ever.
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‘Whatever can be the meaning of it?’ said Mrs Gage, looking carefully at the kitchen floor. The moonlight
was bright enough to show her a slight unevenness in the laying of the bricks, as if they had been taken up
and then relaid not quite flat with the others. She had fastened her apron with a large safety pin, and she
now prised this pin between the bricks and found that they were only loosely laid together. Very soon she
had taken one up in her hands. No sooner had she done this than the parrot hopped on to the brick next
to it, and, tapping it smartly with his beak, cried, ‘Not at home!’ which Mrs Gage understood to mean that
she was to move it. So they went on taking up the bricks in the moonlight until they had laid bare a space
some six feet by four and a half. This the parrot seemed to think was enough. But what was to be done
next?
Mrs Gage now rested, and determined to be guided entirely by the behaviour of the parrot James. She
was not allowed to rest for long. After scratching about in the sandy foundations for a few minutes, as you
may have seen a hen scratch in the sand with her claws, he unearthed what at first looked like a round
lump of yellowish stone. His excitement became so intense, that Mrs Gage now went to his help. To her
amazement she found that the whole space which they had uncovered was packed with long rolls of these
round yellow stones, so neatly laid together that it was quite a job to move them. But what could they be?
And for what purpose had they been hidden here? It was not until they had removed the entire layer on
the top, and next a piece of oil cloth which lay beneath them, that a most miraculous sight was displayed
before their eyes - there, in row after row, beautifully polished, and shining brightly in the moonlight, were
thousands of brand new sovereigns!!!!
This, then, was the miser’s hiding place; and he had made sure that no one would detect it by taking two
extraordinary precautions. ln the first place, as was proved later, he had built a kitchen range over the spot
where his treasure lay hid, so that unless the fire had destroyed it, no one could have guessed its existence;
and secondly he had coated the top layer of sovereigns with some sticky substance, then rolled them in
the earth, so that if by chance one had been laid bare no one would have suspected that it was anything
but a pebble such as you may see for yourself any day in the garden. Thus, it was only by the extraordinary
coincidence of the fire and the parrot’s sagacity that old Joseph’s craft was defeate d.
Mrs Gage and the parrot now worked hard and removed the whole
hoard - which numbered three thousand pieces, neither more nor less -
placing them in her apron which was spread upon the ground. As the
three thousandth coin was placed on the top of the pile, the parrot flew
up into the air in triumph and alighted very gently on the top of Mrs
Gage’s head. It was in this fashion that they returned to Mrs Ford’s
cottage, at a very slow pace, for Mrs Gage was lame, as I have said, and
now she was almost weighted to the ground by the contents of her
apron. But she reached her room without anyone knowing of her visit
the ruined house.
Next day she returned to Yorkshire. Mr Stacey once more drove her into
Lewes and was rather surprised to find how heavy Mrs Gage’s wooden
box had become. But he was a quiet sort of man, and merely concluded that the kind people at Rodmell
33 071-eng-wb-t4- (Stories)
had given her a few odds and ends to console her for the dreadful loss of all her property in the fire. Out
of sheer goodness of heart Mr Stacey offered to buy the parrot off her for half a crown; but Mrs Gage
refused his offer with such indignation, saying that she would not sell the bird for all the wealth of the
Indies, that he concluded that the old woman had been crazed by her troubles.
It now only remains to be said that Mrs Gage got back to Spilsby in safety; took her black box to the Bank;
and lived with James the parrot and her dog Shag in great comfort and happiness to a very great age.
lt was not till she lay on her deathbed that she told
the clergyman (the son of the Rev Samuel
Tallboys) the whole story, adding that she was
quite sure that the house had been burnt on
purpose by the parrot James, who, being aware of
her danger on the river bank, flew into the
scullery, and upset the oil stove which was keeping
some scraps warm for her dinner. By this act, he
not only saved her from drowning, but brought to
light the three thousand pounds, which could have
been found in no other manner. Such, she said, is
the reward of kindness to animals.
The clergyman thought that she was wandering in her mind. But it is certain that the very moment the
breath was out of her body, James the parrot shrieked out, ‘Not at home! Not at home!’ and fell off his
perch stone dead. The dog Shag had died some years previously.
Visitors to Rodmell may still see the ruins of the house, which was burnt down fifty years ago, and it is
commonly said that if you visit it in the moonlight you may hear a parrot tapping with his beak upon the
brick floor, while others have seen an old woman sitting there in a white apron.
After reading: Answer the questions below on your own; then compare with a friend.
In the blank, write the letter of the one best answer.
____ 1. The author’s primary purpose in writing “The Widow and the Parrot” is to
a. inform readers of parrot behavior.
b. entertain readers with an engaging story.
c. persuade readers of animal intelligence.
d. criticize miserly behavior.
____ 2. Which word best describes Mrs. Gage’s lifestyle at the beginning of “The Widow and the
Parrot”?
a. modest c. extravagant
b. mysterious d. Unfulfilling
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____ 3. In “The Widow and the Parrot,” what does the parrot’s phrase “Not at home!” reveal about
Joseph Brand, the parrot’s owner?
a. He had a good sense of humor.
b. He appreciated the parrot’s intelligence.
c. He did not like the company of others.
d. He was a miser.
____ 4. In “The Widow and the Parrot,” how does Mrs. Gage’s treatment of her dog hint at her motives
for showing kindness to the parrot?
a. It reveals that Mrs. Gage cares deeply for animals.
b. It shows that she prefers dogs to birds.
c. It demonstrates that she is a lonely, old woman.
d. It indicates that she thinks animals are better than people.
____ 5. What can you infer about Mrs. Gage’s attitude toward the parrot based on her initial treatment
of it in “The Widow and the Parrot”?
a. She thinks the parrot is ill-tempered and doesn’t want to take responsibility for it.
b. She is concerned about the parrot and wants to make it happy.
c. She thinks it is an unattractive bird with sadly neglected feathers.
d. She is appalled by the parrot’s foul language and obnoxious screeching.
____ 6. In “The Widow and the Parrot,” the farmer tells Mrs. Gage terrible tales of young people
drowning while crossing the river at high tide. What effect does this detail have on the story?
a. It foreshadows events.
b. It creates suspense.
c. It shows Mrs. Gage’s motivation.
d. It helps readers identify with Mrs. Gage.
Answer the question in full sentences giving as many details as possible.
1. At the end of the story, to what does Mrs. Gage attribute her good fortune?
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2. Compare and contrast Mrs. Gage’s ideas about the parrot with Mrs. Ford’s.
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3. Do you think Mrs. Gage’s good fortune is a reward, or is it merely a coincidence? Explain your
answer.
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Research time
Virginia Woolf is a very famous English writer. Do some research about the author and write down
2or 3 interesting things about her life. Try also to see if she makes any connections between her
personal life and this particular story. Write your answers in the box below.
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D: Newspaper Articles
1. What kind of information can you find in a newspaper?
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2. Newspaper Terms
Visit the following website on your iPads and find the meanings of the newspaper terms. Label the
newspaper sample with the numbers of each term.
http://thetimesnewsnie.com/newspaper-terminology/
1. Flag
2. Byline
3. Dateline
4. Headline
5. Lead
6. Column
7. Cut
8. Caption
a short piece of text under a picture in a book, magazine, or newspaper that describes
the picture or explains what the people in it are doing or saying
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Steve Nash Retires From Basketball by Jonathan Tilly
March 22, 2015 10:17 pm
Steve Nash retired from basketball on Saturday. He is 41 years old.
In this case, “retired” means that he will not play
basketball professionally any more.
Nash is on the Los Angeles Lakers basketball
team but he hasn’t played in about a year
because of a back injury.
Nash is considered one of the most talented point
guards to play the game and one of Canada’s
most talented professional athletes. He is known
as a nice person—both on and off the court.
He is about 6’ 2” tall (188 cm) tall, which is considered fairly short for a basketball player. He
made up for his lack of height with intelligent playing, speed and hard work.
Steve Nash. Image: Keith Allison
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Canada’s Prime Minister, Stephen Harper, sent Nash a message on Twitter. “There has never
been a better Canadian basketball player than Steve Nash,” the tweet read. “Congratulations on
an incredible career.”
Many of Nash’s former teammates have also put messages on Twitter saying that they enjoyed
playing with him, and that he inspired them.
Eight times, Nash was named an all-star; only two other players in NBA history have more
assists than he does (he has 10,335 assists).
Steve Nash was born in South Africa, but he grew up in British Columbia.
Column Analysis
1. What kind of information do you find in the headline? Which part of an essay is it similar to?
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2. What kind of information do you find in the lead? Which part of an essay is it similar to?
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3. What is the importance of a dateline?
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4. How is the cut related to the column? Do you think the size of the cut matters? Why/why not?
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5. Did the columnist put his own opinions in the column? Why/why not?
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Newspaper Editorial Analysis
Vocabulary: Find the meanings of the words on your iPad and write them down.
wage: ________________________________________________________________________________
law: _________________________________________________________________________________
profit: ________________________________________________________________________________
unemployment: _______________________________________________________________________
Read the editorial below and underline the parts where the writer put his own opinions or feelings.
Minimum Wage Laws
Editorial - Posted on May 14, 2015 by Thomas Sowell, Real Clear Politics
A recent story in a San Francisco newspaper says that some
restaurants and grocery stores in Oakland’s Chinatown have
closed after the city’s minimum wage was raised. Other small
businesses are not sure they are going to survive, because
many depend on a small profit. This is all happening because of the “minimum wage law”.
They think that it’s great having passed a humane “living
wage” law. However, they didn’t consider the inexperienced and unskilled young people, who need a job
to get some experience, even more than they need the money.
It is no surprise that minimum-wage laws reduce employment opportunities for the young and the
unskilled of any age. It has been happening around the world, for generation after generation, and in the
most diverse countries. Now that the business owners have to pay much more to their employees, they
cannot make any profit and have to fire their employees. Besides, is everyone productive enough to be worth paying the minimum wage they set?
In the United States, the annual unemployment rate
ranged from a high of 4.2 percent to a low of 1.8
percent until last year. Now, it’s become much higher
because of the minimum-wage law. The law-makers
thought they were trying to protect the employees but they did so much harm instead.
This is just one of many policies that allow liberals to
go around feeling good about themselves, while leaving chaos wherever they touch.
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Answer the Questions
1. What is Thomas Sowell’s opinion about the minimum wage law? What are the reasons?
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2. The purpose of an editorial is to explain, persuade, warn, criticize, entertain, praise or answer.
What do you think is the purpose of the Thomas Sowell’s ed itorial? Explain your answer.
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3. Would you prefer to read articles or editorials? Does it depend on the topic? Why / Why not?
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4. Imagine you are somebody that supports the “minimum wage law”. Write an answer editorial to
Thomas Sowell praising the law.
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Grade 7 News
Visit some news websites on your iPads or check out some newspapers and find an interesting piece of
news from this past week. Re-write the news in your own words and create your own article below.
________________________________________________________________________________ (flag)
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(cut)
(caption)
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Compare
So far, you have read and analyzed 4 different genres: myth, fable, short story and news article
Compare and contrast the 4 genres and complete the chart.
Myth Fable Short Story News Article
Characters
Plot
Moral
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Booklet Evaluation
What stuck with you? Write at least 3 new things you have learnt in this booklet:
What do you want to see more of in the booklet?
What do you want to see less of? Offer an
alternative.
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Notes:
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Notes:
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