Monday, April 23, 2007
BORIS YELTSIN'S BEQUEST
NOTE: PLEASE READ THE FOLLOWING EDITORIAL AND ANSWER THE QUESTIONS AFTER EACH PARAGRAPH. YOU WILL BE TESTED ON THE WORDS IN BOLD
Editorial: New York Times
Published: April 24, 2007
BORIS YELTSIN'S BEQUEST
It is in the nature of men who lead revolutions that they rarely prove to be effective leaders of governments. So it was with Boris Yeltsin.
[WHAT IS THE MAIN IDEA?]
He was a Communist Party man who engineered the dissolution of both the party and the Soviet Union, then became Russia’s first democratically elected leader. He struggled to introduce Western political and economic values and tried to ensure that there would be no turning back. But his shock therapy led to the collapse of Russia’s economy and left much of its wealth in the hands of oligarchs.
[WHAT DOES THE WORD "PARTY" MEAN HERE? IS IT A BIRTHDAY PARTY? A SALSA PARTY?]
[WHY IS THE WORD "WESTERN" CAPITALIZED?]
[WHAT IS SHOCK THERAPY?]
His constant political and personal roiling — including bouts of drunkenness — left many in his country yearning for a traditional strongman, which is what they got with Mr. Yeltsin’s handpicked successor, Vladimir Putin.
[WHY DID THE RUSSIAN PEOPLE BEGIN TO WANT A STRONG LEADER?]
Perhaps the most accurate judgment of Mr. Yeltsin is the one he passed on himself when he abruptly resigned on the last day of 1999: “I want to ask for your forgiveness. For the fact that many of the dreams we shared never came true.”
[WHY DID YELTSIN ASK FOR FORGIVENESS?]
[WHAT DOES THE COLLOCATION "TO PASS JUDGEMENT" MEAN?]
Mr. Yeltsin was a huge figure in an extraordinary time. Brought into the ruling Politburo by Mikhail Gorbachev at the dawn of perestroika— the restructuring that couldn’t save the system — Mr. Yeltsin electrified Muscovites with his openness and accessibility. His defiance of the Communist Party was a deadly blow to its rule, and when party loyalists staged their putsch in August 1991, Mr. Yeltsin’s speech from atop a tank collapsed the rebellion.
[POLITBURO AND PERESTROIKA ARE BOTH RUSSIAN WORDS WHICH THE ENGLISH LANGUAGE HAS APPROPRIATED*. WHAT DO THEY MEAN?]
[WHAT HAPPENED IN 1991?]
As president, Mr. Yeltsin tolerated brazen corruption, ended a 1993 rebellion by ordering tanks to fire on the Parliament and launched the brutal military campaign in Chechnya. The deals he made to ensure his 1996 re-election undermined the democracy he championed. The country he turned over to Mr. Putin was a mess. Looking back, we can identify the most egregious failings of this man. But without Mr. Yeltsin, the death throes of that terrible dictatorship could have been far worse.
[THIS PARAGRAPH IDENTIFIES 4 THINGS WHICH HAVE HURT YELTSIN'S LEGACY--the way he is remembered--WHAT ARE THEY?]
[WHAT DOES THE LAST SENTENCE SIGNIFY?]
[*LOOK AT THE DEFINITION OF "APPROPRIATE" BELOW. WHICH OF THE 3 MEANINGS DO I USE IN ONE OF MY QUESTIONS? WHAT LANGUAGE DID THE WORD ORIGINALLY COME FROM? AND HOW DO YOU THINK THIS WORD FROM ANOTHER LANGUAGE GOT INTO ENGLISH?]
ap·pro·pri·ate (ə-prō'prē-ĭt)
Adjective
Suitable for a particular person, condition, occasion, or place; fitting.
Transitive Verb, -at·ed, -at·ing, -ates. (-āt')
1. To set apart for a specific use: appropriating funds for education.
2. To take possession of or make use of exclusively for oneself, often without permission: Lee appropriated my unread newspaper and never returned it.
[Middle English appropriat, from Late Latin appropriātus, past participle of appropriāre, to make one's own : Latin ad-, ad- + Latin proprius, own.]
EXTRA CREDIT
DO YOU KNOW WHAT LANGUAGE THE WORD "PUTSCHE" ORIGINALLY COMES FROM?
BIG BIG EXTRA CREDIT
WHAT WAS THE BEER HALL PUTSCH?
Editorial: New York Times
Published: April 24, 2007
BORIS YELTSIN'S BEQUEST
It is in the nature of men who lead revolutions that they rarely prove to be effective leaders of governments. So it was with Boris Yeltsin.
[WHAT IS THE MAIN IDEA?]
He was a Communist Party man who engineered the dissolution of both the party and the Soviet Union, then became Russia’s first democratically elected leader. He struggled to introduce Western political and economic values and tried to ensure that there would be no turning back. But his shock therapy led to the collapse of Russia’s economy and left much of its wealth in the hands of oligarchs.
[WHAT DOES THE WORD "PARTY" MEAN HERE? IS IT A BIRTHDAY PARTY? A SALSA PARTY?]
[WHY IS THE WORD "WESTERN" CAPITALIZED?]
[WHAT IS SHOCK THERAPY?]
His constant political and personal roiling — including bouts of drunkenness — left many in his country yearning for a traditional strongman, which is what they got with Mr. Yeltsin’s handpicked successor, Vladimir Putin.
[WHY DID THE RUSSIAN PEOPLE BEGIN TO WANT A STRONG LEADER?]
Perhaps the most accurate judgment of Mr. Yeltsin is the one he passed on himself when he abruptly resigned on the last day of 1999: “I want to ask for your forgiveness. For the fact that many of the dreams we shared never came true.”
[WHY DID YELTSIN ASK FOR FORGIVENESS?]
[WHAT DOES THE COLLOCATION "TO PASS JUDGEMENT" MEAN?]
Mr. Yeltsin was a huge figure in an extraordinary time. Brought into the ruling Politburo by Mikhail Gorbachev at the dawn of perestroika— the restructuring that couldn’t save the system — Mr. Yeltsin electrified Muscovites with his openness and accessibility. His defiance of the Communist Party was a deadly blow to its rule, and when party loyalists staged their putsch in August 1991, Mr. Yeltsin’s speech from atop a tank collapsed the rebellion.
[POLITBURO AND PERESTROIKA ARE BOTH RUSSIAN WORDS WHICH THE ENGLISH LANGUAGE HAS APPROPRIATED*. WHAT DO THEY MEAN?]
[WHAT HAPPENED IN 1991?]
As president, Mr. Yeltsin tolerated brazen corruption, ended a 1993 rebellion by ordering tanks to fire on the Parliament and launched the brutal military campaign in Chechnya. The deals he made to ensure his 1996 re-election undermined the democracy he championed. The country he turned over to Mr. Putin was a mess. Looking back, we can identify the most egregious failings of this man. But without Mr. Yeltsin, the death throes of that terrible dictatorship could have been far worse.
[THIS PARAGRAPH IDENTIFIES 4 THINGS WHICH HAVE HURT YELTSIN'S LEGACY--the way he is remembered--WHAT ARE THEY?]
[WHAT DOES THE LAST SENTENCE SIGNIFY?]
[*LOOK AT THE DEFINITION OF "APPROPRIATE" BELOW. WHICH OF THE 3 MEANINGS DO I USE IN ONE OF MY QUESTIONS? WHAT LANGUAGE DID THE WORD ORIGINALLY COME FROM? AND HOW DO YOU THINK THIS WORD FROM ANOTHER LANGUAGE GOT INTO ENGLISH?]
ap·pro·pri·ate (ə-prō'prē-ĭt)
Adjective
Suitable for a particular person, condition, occasion, or place; fitting.
Transitive Verb, -at·ed, -at·ing, -ates. (-āt')
1. To set apart for a specific use: appropriating funds for education.
2. To take possession of or make use of exclusively for oneself, often without permission: Lee appropriated my unread newspaper and never returned it.
[Middle English appropriat, from Late Latin appropriātus, past participle of appropriāre, to make one's own : Latin ad-, ad- + Latin proprius, own.]
EXTRA CREDIT
DO YOU KNOW WHAT LANGUAGE THE WORD "PUTSCHE" ORIGINALLY COMES FROM?
BIG BIG EXTRA CREDIT
WHAT WAS THE BEER HALL PUTSCH?
ON WEDNESDAY GO TO THE LIBRARY
ON WEDNESDAY MEET IN THE LIBRARY ON THE COUCHES JUST INSIDE THE DOORS. MARGARET PERKINS WILL BE TEACHING YOU
THE SNIPER
"The Irish Civil War (June 28, 1922 – May 24, 1923) was a conflict between supporters and opponents of the Anglo-Irish Treaty of December 6, 1921, which established the Irish Free State, precursor of today's Republic of Ireland. Opponents of the treaty objected to the fact that it retained constitutional links between the United Kingdom and Ireland and that the six counties of Northern Ireland would not be included in the Free State. The Civil War cost the lives of more than had died in the War ofIndependence that preceded it and left Irish society deeply divided. Its influence in Irish politics remains evident today" ("Irish Civil War" Wikipedia intro.)
The Sniper
by LIAM O'FLAHERTY
The long June twilight faded into night. Dublin lay enveloped in darkness but for the dim light of the moon that shone through fleecy clouds, casting a pale light as of approaching dawn over the streets and the dark waters of the Liffey. Around the beleaguered Four Courts the heavy guns roared. Here and there through the city, machine guns and rifles broke the silence of the night, spasmodically, like dogs barking on lone farms. Republicans and Free Staters were waging civil war.
On a rooftop near O'Connell Bridge, a Republican sniper lay watching. Beside him lay his rifle and over his shoulders was slung a pair of field glasses. His face was the face of a student, thin and ascetic, but his eyes had the cold gleam of the fanatic. They were deep and thoughtful, the eyes of a man who is used to looking at death.
He was eating a sandwich hungrily. He had eaten nothing since morning. He had been too excited to eat. He finished the sandwich, and, taking a flask of whiskey from his pocket, he took a short draught. Then he returned the flask to his pocket. He paused for a moment, considering whether he should risk a smoke. It was dangerous. The flash might be seen in the darkness, and there were enemies watching. He decided to take the risk.
Placing a cigarette between his lips, he struck a match, inhaled the smoke hurriedly and put out the light. Almost immediately, a bullet flattened itself against the parapet of the roof. The sniper took another whiff and put out the cigarette. Then he swore softly and crawled away to the left.
Cautiously he raised himself and peered over the parapet. There was a flash and a bullet whizzed over his head. He dropped immediately. He had seen the flash. It came from the opposite side of the street.
He rolled over the roof to a chimney stack in the rear, and slowly drew himself up behind it, until his eyes were level with the top of the parapet. There was nothing to be seen--just the dim outline of the opposite housetop against the blue sky. His enemy was under cover.
Just then an armored car came across the bridge and advanced slowly up the street. It stopped on the opposite side of the street, fifty yards ahead. The sniper could hear the dull panting of the motor. His heart beat faster. It was an enemy car. He wanted to fire, but he knew it was useless. His bullets would never pierce the steel that covered the gray monster.
Then round the corner of a side street came an old woman, her head covered by a tattered shawl. She began to talk to the man in the turret of the car. She was pointing to the roof where the sniper lay. An informer.
The turret opened. A man's head and shoulders appeared, looking toward the sniper. The sniper raised his rifle and fired. The head fell heavily on the turret wall. The woman darted toward the side street. The sniper fired again. The woman whirled round and fell with a shriek into the gutter.
Suddenly from the opposite roof a shot rang out and the sniper dropped his rifle with a curse. The rifle clattered to the roof. The sniper thought the noise would wake the dead. He stooped to pick the rifle up. He couldn't lift it. His forearm was dead. "I'm hit," he muttered.
Dropping flat onto the roof, he crawled back to the parapet. With his left hand he felt the injured right forearm. The blood was oozing through the sleeve of his coat. There was no pain--just a deadened sensation, as if the arm had been cut off.
Quickly he drew his knife from his pocket, opened it on the breastwork of the parapet, and ripped open the sleeve. There was a small hole where the bullet had entered. On the other side there was no hole. The bullet had lodged in the bone. It must have fractured it. He bent the arm below the wound. the arm bent back easily. He ground his teeth to overcome the pain.
Then taking out his field dressing, he ripped open the packet with his knife. He broke the neck of the iodine bottle and let the bitter fluid drip into the wound. A paroxysm of pain swept through him. He placed the cotton wadding over the wound and wrapped the dressing over it. He tied the ends with his teeth.
Then he lay still against the parapet, and, closing his eyes, he made an effort of will to overcome the pain.
In the street beneath all was still. The armored car had retired speedily over the bridge, with the machine gunner's head hanging lifeless over the turret. The woman's corpse lay still in the gutter.
The sniper lay still for a long time nursing his wounded arm and planning escape. Morning must not find him wounded on the roof. The enemy on the opposite roof coverd his escape. He must kill that enemy and he could not use his rifle. He had only a revolver to do it. Then he thought of a plan.
Taking off his cap, he placed it over the muzzle of his rifle. Then he pushed the rifle slowly upward over the parapet, until the cap was visible from the opposite side of the street. Almost immediately there was a report, and a bullet pierced the center of the cap. The sniper slanted the rifle forward. The cap clipped down into the street. Then catching the rifle in the middle, the sniper dropped his left hand over the roof and let it hang, lifelessly. After a few moments he let the rifle drop to the street. Then he sank to the roof, dragging his hand with him.
Crawling quickly to his feet, he peered up at the corner of the roof. His ruse had succeeded. The other sniper, seeing the cap and rifle fall, thought that he had killed his man. He was now standing before a row of chimney pots, looking across, with his head clearly silhouetted against the western sky.
The Republican sniper smiled and lifted his revolver above the edge of the parapet. The distance was about fifty yards--a hard shot in the dim light, and his right arm was paining him like a thousand devils. He took a steady aim. His hand trembled with eagerness. Pressing his lips together, he took a deep breath through his nostrils and fired. He was almost deafened with the report and his arm shook with the recoil.
Then when the smoke cleared, he peered across and uttered a cry of joy. His enemy had been hit. He was reeling over the parapet in his death agony. He struggled to keep his feet, but he was slowly falling forward as if in a dream. The rifle fell from his grasp, hit the parapet, fell over, bounded off the pole of a barber's shop beneath and then clattered on the pavement.
Then the dying man on the roof crumpled up and fell forward. The body turned over and over in space and hit the ground with a dull thud. Then it lay still.
The sniper looked at his enemy falling and he shuddered. The lust of battle died in him. He became bitten by remorse. The sweat stood out in beads on his forehead. Weakened by his wound and the long summer day of fasting and watching on the roof, he revolted from the sight of the shattered mass of his dead enemy. His teeth chattered, he began to gibber to himself, cursing the war, cursing himself, cursing everybody.
He looked at the smoking revolver in his hand, and with an oath he hurled it to the roof at his feet. The revolver went off with a concussion and the bullet whizzed past the sniper's head. He was frightened back to his senses by the shock. His nerves steadied. The cloud of fear scattered from his mind and he laughed.
Taking the whiskey flask from his pocket, he emptied it a drought. He felt reckless under the influence of the spirit. He decided to leave the roof now and look for his company commander, to report. Everywhere around was quiet. There was not much danger in going through the streets. He picked up his revolver and put it in his pocket. Then he crawled down through the skylight to the house underneath.
When the sniper reached the laneway on the street level, he felt a sudden curiosity as to the identity of the enemy sniper whom he had killed. He decided that he was a good shot, whoever he was. He wondered did he know him. Perhaps he had been in his own company before the split in the army. He decided to risk going over to have a look at him. He peered around the corner into O'Connell Street. In the upper part of the street there was heavy firing, but around here all was quiet.
The sniper darted across the street. A machine gun tore up the ground around him with a hail of bullets, but he escaped. He threw himself face downward beside the corpse. The machine gun stopped.
Then the sniper turned over the dead body and looked into his brother's face.
VOCABULARY only the words in Bold will be tested
fleecy
beleaguered
spasmodically
to wage war (Collocation: again notice the alliteration)
sniper
ascetic
fanatic (the word "fan," as in sports fan, is derived from this word, yet softer)
draught (Ah, those crazy--MAD--Irish and Brits. They spell draft as draught. Here it means a sip of something, not a bit of wind)
parapet
panting
turret
oozing
to grind one's teeth
paroxysm
muzzle
ruse
silhouette
nostrils
death agony
grasp
bitten by remorse (A very common collocation: filled with remorse)
revolted
gibber
concussion
QUESTIONS
1. What sort of man was the sniper at the start of the story? Reread the paragraphs down to, "Then he thought of a plan." What do these things reveal about his character:
a) The look in his eyes.
b) Killing an old woman in cold blood.
c) The dressing of his wounded arm.
2. the Sniper did not give a second thought to the old woman, or the man in the car whom he had killed. Why do you think he was so curious about the other sniper he had killed?
3. What did you think of the ending?
4. Describe, in as much detail as you can, the setting of this story. Is the setting important to the events that occur in this story? Explain your answer.
5. Before you can answer question 5, you need to understand that there are 5 traditional POINTS OF VIEW in literature. In the First Person Point of View the narrator tells his own story. In the Second Person Point of View the author tells the story as if it is happening to the reader. In the Third Person Point of View the
author tells what each character does or says but does not let us look into their minds and thoughts. In the Third Person Omniscient Point of View the author not only shows us what characters do but also lets us see their thoughts. A variation is the Third Person Limited Omniscient Point of View where we see into some of the character's minds but not all of them.
Now that you know all this, what point of view does the author use to tell this story? How do you know?
6. Identify and describe one example from the story for each of the following kinds of conflict:
a) Man vs. Man
b) Man vs. Himself
c) Man vs. Circumstance
The Sniper
by LIAM O'FLAHERTY
The long June twilight faded into night. Dublin lay enveloped in darkness but for the dim light of the moon that shone through fleecy clouds, casting a pale light as of approaching dawn over the streets and the dark waters of the Liffey. Around the beleaguered Four Courts the heavy guns roared. Here and there through the city, machine guns and rifles broke the silence of the night, spasmodically, like dogs barking on lone farms. Republicans and Free Staters were waging civil war.
On a rooftop near O'Connell Bridge, a Republican sniper lay watching. Beside him lay his rifle and over his shoulders was slung a pair of field glasses. His face was the face of a student, thin and ascetic, but his eyes had the cold gleam of the fanatic. They were deep and thoughtful, the eyes of a man who is used to looking at death.
He was eating a sandwich hungrily. He had eaten nothing since morning. He had been too excited to eat. He finished the sandwich, and, taking a flask of whiskey from his pocket, he took a short draught. Then he returned the flask to his pocket. He paused for a moment, considering whether he should risk a smoke. It was dangerous. The flash might be seen in the darkness, and there were enemies watching. He decided to take the risk.
Placing a cigarette between his lips, he struck a match, inhaled the smoke hurriedly and put out the light. Almost immediately, a bullet flattened itself against the parapet of the roof. The sniper took another whiff and put out the cigarette. Then he swore softly and crawled away to the left.
Cautiously he raised himself and peered over the parapet. There was a flash and a bullet whizzed over his head. He dropped immediately. He had seen the flash. It came from the opposite side of the street.
He rolled over the roof to a chimney stack in the rear, and slowly drew himself up behind it, until his eyes were level with the top of the parapet. There was nothing to be seen--just the dim outline of the opposite housetop against the blue sky. His enemy was under cover.
Just then an armored car came across the bridge and advanced slowly up the street. It stopped on the opposite side of the street, fifty yards ahead. The sniper could hear the dull panting of the motor. His heart beat faster. It was an enemy car. He wanted to fire, but he knew it was useless. His bullets would never pierce the steel that covered the gray monster.
Then round the corner of a side street came an old woman, her head covered by a tattered shawl. She began to talk to the man in the turret of the car. She was pointing to the roof where the sniper lay. An informer.
The turret opened. A man's head and shoulders appeared, looking toward the sniper. The sniper raised his rifle and fired. The head fell heavily on the turret wall. The woman darted toward the side street. The sniper fired again. The woman whirled round and fell with a shriek into the gutter.
Suddenly from the opposite roof a shot rang out and the sniper dropped his rifle with a curse. The rifle clattered to the roof. The sniper thought the noise would wake the dead. He stooped to pick the rifle up. He couldn't lift it. His forearm was dead. "I'm hit," he muttered.
Dropping flat onto the roof, he crawled back to the parapet. With his left hand he felt the injured right forearm. The blood was oozing through the sleeve of his coat. There was no pain--just a deadened sensation, as if the arm had been cut off.
Quickly he drew his knife from his pocket, opened it on the breastwork of the parapet, and ripped open the sleeve. There was a small hole where the bullet had entered. On the other side there was no hole. The bullet had lodged in the bone. It must have fractured it. He bent the arm below the wound. the arm bent back easily. He ground his teeth to overcome the pain.
Then taking out his field dressing, he ripped open the packet with his knife. He broke the neck of the iodine bottle and let the bitter fluid drip into the wound. A paroxysm of pain swept through him. He placed the cotton wadding over the wound and wrapped the dressing over it. He tied the ends with his teeth.
Then he lay still against the parapet, and, closing his eyes, he made an effort of will to overcome the pain.
In the street beneath all was still. The armored car had retired speedily over the bridge, with the machine gunner's head hanging lifeless over the turret. The woman's corpse lay still in the gutter.
The sniper lay still for a long time nursing his wounded arm and planning escape. Morning must not find him wounded on the roof. The enemy on the opposite roof coverd his escape. He must kill that enemy and he could not use his rifle. He had only a revolver to do it. Then he thought of a plan.
Taking off his cap, he placed it over the muzzle of his rifle. Then he pushed the rifle slowly upward over the parapet, until the cap was visible from the opposite side of the street. Almost immediately there was a report, and a bullet pierced the center of the cap. The sniper slanted the rifle forward. The cap clipped down into the street. Then catching the rifle in the middle, the sniper dropped his left hand over the roof and let it hang, lifelessly. After a few moments he let the rifle drop to the street. Then he sank to the roof, dragging his hand with him.
Crawling quickly to his feet, he peered up at the corner of the roof. His ruse had succeeded. The other sniper, seeing the cap and rifle fall, thought that he had killed his man. He was now standing before a row of chimney pots, looking across, with his head clearly silhouetted against the western sky.
The Republican sniper smiled and lifted his revolver above the edge of the parapet. The distance was about fifty yards--a hard shot in the dim light, and his right arm was paining him like a thousand devils. He took a steady aim. His hand trembled with eagerness. Pressing his lips together, he took a deep breath through his nostrils and fired. He was almost deafened with the report and his arm shook with the recoil.
Then when the smoke cleared, he peered across and uttered a cry of joy. His enemy had been hit. He was reeling over the parapet in his death agony. He struggled to keep his feet, but he was slowly falling forward as if in a dream. The rifle fell from his grasp, hit the parapet, fell over, bounded off the pole of a barber's shop beneath and then clattered on the pavement.
Then the dying man on the roof crumpled up and fell forward. The body turned over and over in space and hit the ground with a dull thud. Then it lay still.
The sniper looked at his enemy falling and he shuddered. The lust of battle died in him. He became bitten by remorse. The sweat stood out in beads on his forehead. Weakened by his wound and the long summer day of fasting and watching on the roof, he revolted from the sight of the shattered mass of his dead enemy. His teeth chattered, he began to gibber to himself, cursing the war, cursing himself, cursing everybody.
He looked at the smoking revolver in his hand, and with an oath he hurled it to the roof at his feet. The revolver went off with a concussion and the bullet whizzed past the sniper's head. He was frightened back to his senses by the shock. His nerves steadied. The cloud of fear scattered from his mind and he laughed.
Taking the whiskey flask from his pocket, he emptied it a drought. He felt reckless under the influence of the spirit. He decided to leave the roof now and look for his company commander, to report. Everywhere around was quiet. There was not much danger in going through the streets. He picked up his revolver and put it in his pocket. Then he crawled down through the skylight to the house underneath.
When the sniper reached the laneway on the street level, he felt a sudden curiosity as to the identity of the enemy sniper whom he had killed. He decided that he was a good shot, whoever he was. He wondered did he know him. Perhaps he had been in his own company before the split in the army. He decided to risk going over to have a look at him. He peered around the corner into O'Connell Street. In the upper part of the street there was heavy firing, but around here all was quiet.
The sniper darted across the street. A machine gun tore up the ground around him with a hail of bullets, but he escaped. He threw himself face downward beside the corpse. The machine gun stopped.
Then the sniper turned over the dead body and looked into his brother's face.
VOCABULARY only the words in Bold will be tested
fleecy
beleaguered
spasmodically
to wage war (Collocation: again notice the alliteration)
sniper
ascetic
fanatic (the word "fan," as in sports fan, is derived from this word, yet softer)
draught (Ah, those crazy--MAD--Irish and Brits. They spell draft as draught. Here it means a sip of something, not a bit of wind)
parapet
panting
turret
oozing
to grind one's teeth
paroxysm
muzzle
ruse
silhouette
nostrils
death agony
grasp
bitten by remorse (A very common collocation: filled with remorse)
revolted
gibber
concussion
QUESTIONS
1. What sort of man was the sniper at the start of the story? Reread the paragraphs down to, "Then he thought of a plan." What do these things reveal about his character:
a) The look in his eyes.
b) Killing an old woman in cold blood.
c) The dressing of his wounded arm.
2. the Sniper did not give a second thought to the old woman, or the man in the car whom he had killed. Why do you think he was so curious about the other sniper he had killed?
3. What did you think of the ending?
4. Describe, in as much detail as you can, the setting of this story. Is the setting important to the events that occur in this story? Explain your answer.
5. Before you can answer question 5, you need to understand that there are 5 traditional POINTS OF VIEW in literature. In the First Person Point of View the narrator tells his own story. In the Second Person Point of View the author tells the story as if it is happening to the reader. In the Third Person Point of View the
author tells what each character does or says but does not let us look into their minds and thoughts. In the Third Person Omniscient Point of View the author not only shows us what characters do but also lets us see their thoughts. A variation is the Third Person Limited Omniscient Point of View where we see into some of the character's minds but not all of them.
Now that you know all this, what point of view does the author use to tell this story? How do you know?
6. Identify and describe one example from the story for each of the following kinds of conflict:
a) Man vs. Man
b) Man vs. Himself
c) Man vs. Circumstance
Saturday, April 21, 2007
TWO SHORT POEMS BY SHEL SILVERSTEIN
NOBODY by Shel Silverstein
Nobody loves me,
Nobody cares,
Nobody picks me peaches and pears.
Nobody offers me candy and Cokes,
Nobody listens and laughs at me jokes.
Nobody helps when I get in a fight,
Nobody does all my homework at night.
Nobody misses me,
Nobody cries,
Nobody thinks I'm a wonderful guy.
So if you ask me who's my best friend, in a whiz,
I'll stand up and tell you that Nobody is.
But yesterday night I got quite a scare,
I woke up and Nobody just wasn't there.
I called out and reached out for Nobody's hand,
In the darkness where Nobody usually stands.
Then I poked through the house, in each cranny and nook,
But I found somebody each place that I looked.
I searched till I'm tired, and now with the dawn,
There's no doubt about it-
Nobody's gone!
VOCABULARY
in a whiz
in each cranny and nook
dawn
QUESTIONS
1. After reading the poem, how do you think the person was feeling, and why?
2. What does the person realize about being alone? How do you know?
3. Write about a time you might have felt alone and in need of a friend. How did you feel? Who made you feel better and how did you do it? If you never felt alone before, or even if you have, how could you help someone who may feel this way?
***********************************************************************************
NOTE: the next poem uses the word "bear." Here it does not mean "to carry". What does it mean? Hint: it's a noun.
BEAR IN THERE by Shell Silverstein
There's a Polar Bear
In our Frigidaire--
He likes it 'cause it's cold in there.
With his seat in the meat
And his face in the fish
And his big hairy paws
In the buttery dish,
He's nibbling the noodles,
He's munching the rice,
He's slurping the soda,
He's licking the ice.
And he lets out a roar
If you open the door.
And it gives me a scare
To know he's in there--
That Polary Bear
In our Fridgitydaire
VOCABULARY
polar
Frigidaire (Why is Frigidaire capitalized? Do you know the word "trademark"?)
nibbling
munching
slurping
roar
Nobody loves me,
Nobody cares,
Nobody picks me peaches and pears.
Nobody offers me candy and Cokes,
Nobody listens and laughs at me jokes.
Nobody helps when I get in a fight,
Nobody does all my homework at night.
Nobody misses me,
Nobody cries,
Nobody thinks I'm a wonderful guy.
So if you ask me who's my best friend, in a whiz,
I'll stand up and tell you that Nobody is.
But yesterday night I got quite a scare,
I woke up and Nobody just wasn't there.
I called out and reached out for Nobody's hand,
In the darkness where Nobody usually stands.
Then I poked through the house, in each cranny and nook,
But I found somebody each place that I looked.
I searched till I'm tired, and now with the dawn,
There's no doubt about it-
Nobody's gone!
VOCABULARY
in a whiz
in each cranny and nook
dawn
QUESTIONS
1. After reading the poem, how do you think the person was feeling, and why?
2. What does the person realize about being alone? How do you know?
3. Write about a time you might have felt alone and in need of a friend. How did you feel? Who made you feel better and how did you do it? If you never felt alone before, or even if you have, how could you help someone who may feel this way?
***********************************************************************************
NOTE: the next poem uses the word "bear." Here it does not mean "to carry". What does it mean? Hint: it's a noun.
BEAR IN THERE by Shell Silverstein
There's a Polar Bear
In our Frigidaire--
He likes it 'cause it's cold in there.
With his seat in the meat
And his face in the fish
And his big hairy paws
In the buttery dish,
He's nibbling the noodles,
He's munching the rice,
He's slurping the soda,
He's licking the ice.
And he lets out a roar
If you open the door.
And it gives me a scare
To know he's in there--
That Polary Bear
In our Fridgitydaire
VOCABULARY
polar
Frigidaire (Why is Frigidaire capitalized? Do you know the word "trademark"?)
nibbling
munching
slurping
roar
Wednesday, April 18, 2007
My Papa's Waltz
by Theodore Roethke
The whiskey on your breath
Could make a small boy dizzy;
But I hung on like death:
Such waltzing was not easy.
We romped until the pans
Slid from the kitchen shelf;
My mother's countenance
Could not unfrown itself.
The hand that held my wrist
Was battered on one knuckle;
At every step you missed
My right ear scraped a buckle.
You beat time on my head
With a palm caked hard by dirt,
Then waltzed me off to bed
Still clinging to your shirt.
The whiskey on your breath
Could make a small boy dizzy;
But I hung on like death:
Such waltzing was not easy.
We romped until the pans
Slid from the kitchen shelf;
My mother's countenance
Could not unfrown itself.
The hand that held my wrist
Was battered on one knuckle;
At every step you missed
My right ear scraped a buckle.
You beat time on my head
With a palm caked hard by dirt,
Then waltzed me off to bed
Still clinging to your shirt.
On a Quiet Night
by Li Po
I saw the moonlight before my couch,
And wondered if it were not frost on the ground.
I raised my head and looked out on the bright moon;
I bowed my head and thought of my far-off home.
I saw the moonlight before my couch,
And wondered if it were not frost on the ground.
I raised my head and looked out on the bright moon;
I bowed my head and thought of my far-off home.
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