ELA Grade 12 Module 2

Last updated: 3/23/2014

ELA Grade 12 Module 2

Subject

English Language Arts

Grade

12

Module

2

Suggested Timeline

6-8 weeks

Grade Level Summary

In twelfth grade, students move towards academic independence and college-and-career readiness. Students grapple with demanding texts by integrating previously learned skills to analyze and evaluate the writer’s premise, purpose, and argument in both informational and literary text. Students conduct sustained research and engage in sharp distinctive writing while making informed decisions, solving problems, evaluating the credibility and accuracy of sources, and noting discrepancies among the resources.

Using previously learned competencies, students master skills such as asking their own questions, solving their own problems, and leading their own class discussions. Finally, students continue to develop the skills in reading, writing, speaking, and listening to master purposeful and independent expression.

Grade Level Modules

Module 1: Making A Difference in the Lives of Others Module 2: Pivotal Choices

Module 3: Intentions and Integrity Module 4: Creating a Legacy Module 5: Adventures and Advice

Module Title

Module 2: Pivotal Choices

Module Overview

In this module, reading, writing, speaking, and listening are focused around the big idea of mastering purposeful and independent expression. Instruction will center around an essential question: What are the essential character traits and behaviors that help humans overcome adversity? Students read from, and write to, informational text as well as classic and contemporary literature. Students engage in class discussions involving the informational text and literature to interpret diverse perspectives.

Students apply a broad range of reading, writing, speaking, and listening skills. Students address how a writer influences the view and opinions of his or her

audience. Key outcomes include integrating and evaluating multiple sources of information presented in different media or formats; analyzing the interaction a nd
development of a complex set of ideas; creating a smooth progression of experiences or events using a variety of techniques to sequence events so that they build on one another to create a coherent whole and build toward a particular tone and outcome; writing with an awareness of the stylistic apsects of writing; conducting short as well as more sustained research projects to answer a question or solve a problem.
Module Objectives
At the end of this module, students will be able to independently use thier learning to:
Integrate and evaluate multiple sources of information presented in different media or formats Analyze the interaction and development of a complex set of ideas
Create a smooth progression of experiences or events using a varitey of techniques to sequence events so that they build on one another to create a coherent whole and build toward a particular tone and outcome
Write with an awareness of the stylistic aspects of writing
Conduct short as well as more sustained research project to answer a question or solve a problem
Focus Standards Addressed in this Module
Important Standards Addressed in this Module
Misconceptions
Students may have misconceptions with the awareness of the stylistic aspects of writing. For example, students may have misunderstandings about how to / Proper Conceptions
Teachers should define how to write with an awareness of the stylistic aspects of writing.
write using parallel structure and precise language to manage the complexity of the topic.
Concepts
Text Analysis Organization for Writing Writing Style Conducting Research Evaluating Information / Competencies
Analyze the interaction and development of a complex set of ideas, sequence of events, or specific individuals over the course of the text.
Write with an awareness of the stylistic aspects of composition.
Informational: Organize complex ideas, concepts, and information so that each new element builds on that which precedes it to create whole; use appropriate and varied transitions and syntax to link the major sections of the text; provide a concluding statement or section that supports the information presented; include formatting when useful to aiding comprehension. Argumentative: Create organization that logically sequences claim(s), counterclaims, reasons, and evidence; Use words,
phrases, and clauses as well as varied syntax to link the major sections of the text create cohesion, and clarify the relationships between claim(s) and reasons, between reasons and evidence, and between claim(s) and counterclaims; provide a concluding statement or section that follows from and supports the argument presented. Narrative: Create a smooth progression of experiences or events using a variety of techniques to sequence events so that they build on one another to create a coherent whole and build toward a particular tone and outcome; provide a conclusion that follows from and reflects on what is experienced, observed, or resolved over the course of the narrative.
Conduct short as well as more sustained research projects to answer a question (including a self generated question) or solve a problem; narrow or broaden the inquiry when appropriate; synthesize multiple sources on the subject, demonstrating understanding of the subject under investigation.
Integrate multiple sources of information presented in diverse formats and media (e.g. visually, quantitative, orally) in order to make informed decisions and solve problems, evaluating the credibility and accuracy of each source and noting any discrepancies among the data. / Vocabulary
Integrate academic vocabulary as the everyday discourse of the classroom, making a point to use these robust, high utility words in speech and writing and encouraging students to do so as well.
Vocabulary: Interaction, Complex, Implicit, Visually, Quantitatively, Tone, Narrative, Parallel Structure, Metaphor, Similie, Analogy, Synthesize
Assessments
The assessments below include summative assessments (Formative assessment examples are located in the "Suggested Strategies to Support Design of Coherent Instruction"). The assessments in this module address author's purpose, central idea of text, drawing evidence from text, and argumentative writing.
Multiple Choice Assessment
After students have read the short passage, have them respond to multiple choice questions that focus on author's purpose, central idea of text, and drawing evidence from text.
Text for the following Multiple Choice Assessment
Passage 1 - My Beloved from My Beloved World By Sonia Sotomayor
From Chapter 11 I was working my way through the summer reading list when Lord of the Flies brought me to a halt. I wasn’t ready to start another book when I finished that one. I’d never read anything so layered with meaning: it haunted me, and I needed to think about it some more. But I didn’t want to spend the whole break doing nothing but reading and watching TV. Junior was happy shooting baskets all the daylight hours, but there wasn’t much else going on around the projects if you were too old for the playground and not into drugs. Orchard Beach still beckoned, roasting traffic and all, but getting there was a trek you couldn’t make every day. Besides, without Abuelita’s laugh and the anticipation of her overgenerous picnic in the trunk, without Gallego gunning the engine of a car packed with squirming kids, somehow it just wasn’t the same. So I decided to get a job. Mami and Titi Carmen were sitting in Abuelita’s kitchen over coffee when I announced my plan. There were no shops or businesses in the projects, but maybe I could find someone to hire me in Abuelita’s old neighborhood. Titi Carmen still lived on Southern Boulevard and worked nearby at United Bargains. The momandpop stores under the El wouldn’t hire kids—leaning on family labor rather than paying a stranger—but the bigger retailers along Southern Boulevard might. I proposed to walk down the street and inquire in each one. “Don’t do that,” said Titi Carmen. “Let me ask Angie.” Angie was Titi Carmen’s boss. My mother meanwhile looked stricken and bit her lip. She didn’t say anything until Titi had gone home. Then, for the first time, she told me a little bit about her own childhood: about sewing and ironing handkerchiefs for Titi Aurora since before she could remember, for hours every day. “I resented it, Sonia. I don’t want you to grow up feeling like I did.” She went on to apologize for being unable to buy us more things but still insisted it would be even worse if I blamed her one day for depriving me of a childhood. I didn’t see that coming. Nobody was forcing me to work. Sure, a little pocket money would be nice, but that wasn’t the main motivation. “Mami, I want to work,” I told her. She’d worked too hard all her life to appreciate that leisure could mean boredom, but that’s what I knew I’d be facing if I sat home all summer. I promised never to blame her. In that moment, I began to understand how hard

my mother’s life had been. Titi Carmen reported back that Angie was willing to hire me for a dollar an hour. That was less than minimum wage, but since I wasn’t old enough to work legally anyway, they would just pay me off the books. I would take the bus, meet Titi Carmen at her place, and then we’d walk over to United Bargains together. That became our routine. It wasn’t a neighborhood where you walked alone. United Bargains sold women’s clothing. I pitched in wherever needed: restocking, tidying up, monitoring the dressing rooms. I was supposed to watch for the telltale signs of a shoplifter trying to disappear behind the racks, rolling up merchandise to stuff in a purse. Junkies were especially suspect. They were easy to spot by the shadow in their eyes, though the

tracks on their arms were hidden under long sleeves even in summer. There was never an argument, never a scene. Once in a while I had to say, “Take it out.” Most of the time I didn’t need to utter a word. She would pull the garment out of her bag, put it back on the hanger, or maybe hand it to me, our eyes never meeting as she slinked out. We always let them go. There wasn’t much choice: in a precinct that had come to be known as Fort Apache, the Wild West, the cops had their hands full dealing with the gangs. Besides, the management understood that the shame and pity were punishment enough, and I naturally agreed. I abhorred feeling pitied, that degrading secondhand sadness I would always associate with my family’s reaction to the news I had diabetes. To pity someone else feels no better. When someone’s dignity shatters in front of you, it leaves a hole that any feeling heart naturally wants to fill, if only with its own sadness. On Saturday nights the store was open late, and it was dark by the time we rolled down the gates. Two patrol officers would meet us at the door and escort us home. I don’t know how this was arranged, whether it was true that one of the saleswomen was sleeping with one of these cops, but I was glad of it anyway. As we walked, we could see the SWAT team on the roofs all along Southern Boulevard, their silhouettes bulging with body armor, assault rifles bristling. One by one the shops would darken, and we could hear the clatter of the graffiti-covered gates being rolled down, trucks driving off, until we were the only ones walking. Even the prostitutes had vanished. You might trip on tourniquets and empty glassine packets when you got into the courtyard area at Titi Carmen’s, but you wouldn’t run into any neighbors. I would spend the night there, talking the night away with Miriam. I wished Nelson were there too, but he was never home anymore. I remember falling asleep thinking again about Lord of the Flies. It was as if the fly-crusted sow’s head on a stick were planted in a crack of the sidewalk on Southern Boulevard. The junkies haunting the alley were little boys smeared with war paint, abandoned on a hostile island, and the eyes of the hunters cruising slowly down the street glowed with primitive appetites. The cops in their armor were only a fiercer tribe. Where was the conch? The next morning, in daylight, Southern Boulevard was less threatening. The street vendors were out, shop fronts were open, people were coming and going. On the way home I stopped at a makeshift fruit cart to buy a banana for a snack. I was standing there peeling my purchase when a police car rolled up to the curb. The cop got out and pointed here and there to what he wanted—there was a language barrier—and the vendor loaded two large shopping bags with fruit. The cop made as if to reach for his wallet, but it was only a gesture, and the vendor waved it off. When the cop drove away, I asked the man why he didn’t take the money. “Es el precio de hacer negocios. If I don’t give the fruit, I can’t sell the fruit.” My heart sank. I told him I was sorry it was like that. “We all have to make a living,” he said with a shrug. He looked more ashamed than aggrieved. Why was I so upset? Without cops our neighborhood would be even more of a war zone than it was. They worked hard at a dangerous job with little thanks from the people they protected. We needed them. Was I angry because I held the police to a higher standard, the same way I did

Father Dolan and the nuns? There was something more to it, beyond the betrayal of trust, beyond the corruption of someone whose uniform is a symbol of the civic order. How do things break down? In Lord of the Flies, the more mature of those lost boys start off with every intention of building a moral, functional society on their island, drawing on what they remember—looking after the “littluns,” building the shelters, keeping the signal fire burning. Their little community gradually breaks down all the same, battered by those who are more self-indulgent, those who are driven by ego and fear. Which side was the cop on? The boys need rules, law, order, to keep their worst instincts in check. The conch they blow to call a meeting or hold for the right to speak stands for order, but it holds no power in itself. Its only power is what they agree to honor. It is a beautiful thing, but fragile. When I was much younger, on summer days I would sometimes go along with Titi Aurora to the place where she worked as a seamstress. Those must have been days when Mami was working the day shift and, for some reason, I couldn’t go to Abuelita’s. That room with the sewing machines whirring was a vision of hell to me: steaming hot, dark, and airless, with the windows painted black and the door shut tight. I was too young to be useful, but I tried to help anyway, to pass the time. Titi Aurora would give me a box of zippers to untangle, or I’d stack up hangers, sort scraps by color, or fetch things for the women sewing. All day long I’d keep an eye out for anyone heading toward the door. As soon as it opened, I’d race over and stick my head out for a breath of air, until Titi saw me and shooed me back in. I asked her why they didn’t just keep the door open. “They just can’t,” she would say. Behind the closed door and the blackened windows, all those women were breaking the law. But they weren’t criminals. They were just women toiling long hours under miserable conditions to support their families. They were doing what they had to do to survive. It was my first inkling of what a tough life Titi Aurora had had. Titi never got the schooling that Mami got, and she’d borne the brunt of the father Mami was spared from knowing. Her married life would have many challenges and few rewards. Work was the only way she knew to keep going, and she never missed a day. And though Titi was also the most honest person I