8th ELA- continue new reading log;   memorize speech by April 1;   finish all the questions for the story “Flowers for Algernon”  Use the link: https://www.sdfo.org/gj/stories/flowersforalgernon.pdf

Questions: 

Progress Report 1

1. Who is Charlie Gordon?
2. How old is he?
3. What can be inferred about his intelligence level based on his writing?

Progress Report 2

1. From Charlie’s report, what do you think he is supposed to do on the Rorschach test?
2. What does Charlie’s reaction to the test reveal about him?
3. How would you describe Charlie’s character?

Progress Report 3

1. What has Charlie wanted to be all his life?
2. Who is Miss. Kinnian?
3. Does Charlie fully understand that the surgery’s effects will be temporary? Why or why not?
4. How does Charlie feel about the test?
5. Who is Algernon?

Progress Report 4

1. Why does Dr. Strauss think that Charlie is a good candidate for the experiment?
2. How does this make Charlie feel?

Progress Report 5

1. On pg. 49, why might the author have included the bad luck omen of the black cat at this point in the story? (What does this foreshadow?)
2. How does Charlie think the operation will affect him?

Progress Report 6

1. Why does Charlie want so badly to be smart?

Religion- test Monday on Chapter 8

Letters for High School Round 1 need to brought in  by Wed.

7th ELA-  continue new reading log;  memorize speech by March 28;      Complete the sentences for the story we will be reading in class for “The Naming of Names”   and finish the 3rd passage essay for he NYS prep in notebook.  It will be checked on Mon.

Sentences: Students have the voc. words in notebook.

1. The ____ were swinging back and forth.
2. A British submarine was ____ in the Pacific Ocean.
3. The material was so ____ it was breaking apart.
4. German soldiers ____ their attack on the enemy.
5. The waters ____ back into the ocean after the tsunami.
6. The light ____ in the night.
7. The ____ of the car was filled with garbage.
8. Museum of Natural History is filled with ____ pictures.
9. He forced himself to be ____ because he didn’t really like them.
10. Something felt ____ when John didn’t return on time.
11. The different ____ of the country were ruled by different people.
12. The cathedral had to be made by using _____ to support the ceiling.
13. The product is ____ sealed to keep it fresh.
14. It would be an ____ to think of Francis as a philanthropist or a “social worker” or a revivalist preacher, though he fulfilled the best functions of all these.
15. “I remember it all like it was yesterday,” he answered in a ____ tone.

Passage for NYS prep:

Excerpt from “Who Are You Today, María?” from Call Me María      by Judith Ortiz Cofer
     Abuela knocks on my bedroom door. She has come to my room this morning to
watch me choose my outfit for Who You Are Day at school. This is a day when we are
allowed to dress in clothes that we think tell the world who we really are. (Within reason,
our principal warned—no extremes will be tolerated. I hope that her definition of the
word extreme is the same as my friend Whoopee’s. Nothing that she will put on this
morning has ever been seen on this planet, much less at school.)
     Abuela makes herself comfortable on my bed as I put on my costume of myself made
up of pieces of my life. I thought about my Who You Are Day outfit a lot. Mr. Golden told
us in English class to think about our choices: are you going to walk around as a joke or as
 a poem? I have a suspicion that our teachers have allowed us this chance to dress up as
ourselves for a reason. Our school is already a united nations, a carnival, and a parade all
at once. There are students from dozens of different countries, and we do not always get
along. Most of us are too shy to talk to others outside our little circles, and so
misunderstandings come up. The principal has tried almost everything. The Who You Are
      Day is another of her crazy ideas to get us to communicate. In each of my classes, the
teacher said, let us know something about what has made you who you are by what you
wear to school tomorrow. It all sounds like a conspiracy to me. But I like dressing up so I
do not complain like the boys have been doing. Most of them hate the idea!
    Abuela looks at my choices hanging on the door and shakes her head, smiling, like she did when we went to see Cats. It is a smile that says, I do not understand, but if it is important to María, I will bear it the best I can. She is elegant even at 7:00 A.M. in her embroidered silk robe and red velvet slippers. She has wrapped a shawl over her shoulders because she is always cold in our cueva, as she calls the apartment. The shawl was handmade by her mother and it is Abuela’s most prized possession. As a little girl, I liked  to put it over my head because the pattern of sequins made a night sky full of stars and
because it smelled like Abuela.

Abuela sips from her cup of café con leche as she watches me.
I feel a little strange about being in my underwear in front of her and go in my closet
with my choices, which are:
 My mother’s red skirt that she wore when she had a part in a musical play on the Island. I have played dress-up with it since I was five years old, but it finally fits me perfectly. It is the kind of skirt that opens like an umbrella when you turn in circles.

A top I sewed together from an old sari Uma’s mother was going to throw away. It is turquoise blue with silver edges.
And finally, over my sari, I will wear my father’s sharkskin suit jacket—it’s big on me
but I can roll up the sleeves. It is what he likes to wear when he sings at rent parties. 
Under the light, it changes colors and seems to come alive as the design shifts and moves.
Papi says it is great for dancing; you don’t even need a partner.
   And finally, tall platform shoes we found buried deep in Whoopee’s closet, circa 1974,  she told me. Whoopee collects antique shoes to go with her science fiction outfits. It is a fashion statement; she will tell anyone who asks. No one knows what the statement means,
and that is just fine with Whoopee. When I part the clothes in my closet and come out like an actor in a play, Abuela’s eyes open wide. Before she can say anything, I point to each piece of my outfit and say a
 name: Mami, Papi, Uma, and Whoopee.   Abuela’s face changes as she begins to understand the meaning of my fashionstatement.

“Ahora sé quié n eres, María, y quién puedes ser, si quieres. Ven acá, mi amor.”
Abuela says that she knows who I am and who I may be if I choose. I have heard
 those words before but I don’t remember when or where. Abuela embraces me and kisses
my face several times. This is a Puerto Rican thing. It goes on for a while. I close my eyes
to wait it out and I suddenly inhale a familiar scent. When I open my eyes, I see a starry
sky. Abuela has put her shawl over my head.
“Algo mío para tu día de ser quien eres, mi hija,” she tells me. Something of mine for
 your day of being who you are. She is letting me borrow her mother’s beautiful shawl!
All day at school, I feel elegant. Whenever anyone tries to make fun of my costume, I
think of the words my grandmother quoted to me: I know who you are and who you may
be if you choose. And when I go into Mr. Golden’s class and his eyes ask me, Who are you
today, María? I will say by the way I walk in, head held high, that today I am a poem.

 

Excerpt from The Watcher
by James Howe
Evan hated Holden Caulfield. Really hated him. Maybe he was only a character in a
book but to Evan he felt real, like one of those people you get stuck sitting next to on an
airplane and they won’t shut up about their totally unfascinating lives. Evan could in no
way understand why his father had been shoving this book at him for the entire past year,
insisting he read it, telling him it was one of the most important books of the twentieth
century. His father got like that sometimes.
He decided to read it anyway. He’d seen it on his freshman reading list so he figured
why not get it over with and get his father off his back at the same time. Two birds,
one stone. In a weak moment, he’d admitted to his father that he hated Holden with a
passion, and his father had given him this solemn look and said, “My guess is that this
book is touching something deep inside you, Evan.” To which he’d said, “Yeah, right, Dad.”
But sometimes in the middle of the night when he couldn’t sleep, Evan wondered if maybe
what his father said was true.
He was down at the beach reading the book one Friday afternoon when someone
came up and said hey and asked if he wanted to hang out. It was Shane, one of what Evan
referred to as the “boys in black.” Evan often labeled people. He liked to think this was the
product of a creative mind, but his best friend last year in eighth grade, right before he
stopped being his best friend, had told Evan he thought he was basically a snob. Which
Evan knew for a certifiable fact wasn’t true, although no matter how many times he
replayed the conversation in his head he couldn’t come up with what he was , if he wasn’t
a snob.
The boys in black had caught Evan’s attention the first week he and his family were
out at the beach house. It was five o’clock, and like every other day at five o’clock, after the
lifeguards blew their whistles and waved their arms to let everybody know they were
going off duty, little kids in bunches, Callie included, ran to the abandoned lifeguard
stand to clamber to the top, hurl themselves off onto the huge pile of sand at the base,
then repeat the process over and over until they were called away for dinner.
“Watch me, Evan!” Callie shouted. Evan watched, at the same time keeping an eye on
the retreating figure of the lifeguard named Chris who secretly Evan thought was the
coolest guy on the beach. Who secretly Evan wished he could be. Evan admired Chris’s
mirrored sunglasses and had decided he was going over to Fair Harbor one of these days
to get a pair just like them. The only question was whether he’d have the nerve to wear
them to the beach, although he wasn’t sure why this was even a question.

Evan was imagining himself sitting up on top of the lifeguard stand in his mirrored
sunglasses, twirling a whistle cord around his index finger and looking seriously cool,
when five boys in black wet suits, shiny and snug as coats of fresh paint, raced past and
plunged into the water. Once in, they pulled themselves onto their surfboards and paddled
furiously over and through the rolling waves, calling to each other all the while like crows
cawing. Everything about them worked together as one: their bodies, their suits, their
 boards, the water, their coded calls. Evan wished he could be out there with them, envying
not their surfboards but their ease with themselves and one another.
He saw them other times after that, other places. Sometimes there’d be just one of
them, eating an ice cream out in front of the all-purpose store in town, or two of them,
with fishing poles in hand, headed for the bay. But most times he saw all five, moving
 shoulder-to-shoulder along the boardwalks, a basketball in constant play, looking, in their
high-style shorts and ankle bracelets and backward baseball caps, like a pack of Gap-ad
Huckleberry Finns.
At the beginning of their vacation his mother had been bugging him. “Why don’t you
make some friends, Evan? Those boys, you know the ones I mean, they look nice, don’t
 you think?” He had come up with reasons, then excuses, and finally had just ignored his
mother until she backed off.
Then there he was, hearing somebody say hey, and looking up at this tall, tightly
muscled kid with shoulder-length dirty-blond hair whom he recognized immediately as
the one he’d heard the others call Shane.
 “I see you sittin’ here,” Shane said, squinting down at Evan. “How come you’re always
sittin’ here reading?”
“I’m not always reading.”
“I never see you in the water.”
“I go in the water. Maybe not when you’re looking.”
 Evan’s cheeks were hot. He prayed that his mother, stretched out on a towel several
feet behind him, was plugged into her music or one of those meditation tapes she was
always listening to these days and wasn’t paying attention to this conversation.
“So what’s your name?” he heard Shane ask.
“Evan. What’s yours?”
 “Shane,” Shane said in a bored voice. “So you want to hang out? I mean, you know,
you want to hang out?”
“I guess,” Evan said. His eyes were level with Shane’s knees. He noticed now many
pink scars and scabs dotted the landscape of the other boy’s sun-brown legs. He imagined
all the falls and mishaps it must have taken to create so many scars and felt a deep sense
 of shame that at fourteen his own body revealed so little history.

María in “Excerpt from ‘Who Are You Today, María?’ from Call Me María” and
Evan in “Excerpt from The Watcher” are each affected by conversations with family
members. How is María affected by her grandmother’s words? How is Evan affected
by his mother’s words? How are the reactions of the two characters different?
Use details from both stories to support your response.
In your response, be sure to
• explain how her grandmother’s words affect María
• explain how his mother’s words affect Evan
• describe how the reactions of the two characters are different
• use details from both stories to support your response

Reminders: 

• Unfinished classwork must be completed for homework. 
• Bring a book to read every day.  

7th grade Social Studies: 

• Complete 3a-b and 4 from page 283

8th grade Social Studies:

• Copy and define Key Terms and People from page 784
• Read pages 784-785, answer reading check from page 785

Google Classroom assignment
Workbook p 272-282
Read and complete part 1 and 2 (1-8)
Copy 2 questions and answer p. 282