Volodymyr-Volyns’kyi pedagogical college
named after A.Y.Kryms’kyi
Home Readings
Prepared by:
Maltseva Yulia
Aidan Reneghan
2011
Table of Contents
No News by Connie Blake-Regan and Barbara Freeman ……………………………………………………1
Birthday Box by Jane Yolen ……………………………………………………………………………………...4
Hansel and Gretel (Part 1) …………………………………………………………………………………….…8
Hansel and Gretel (Part 2) ……………………………………………………………….……………………..10
Heroes by Erma Bombeck ……………………………………………………………………………………...12
Hints on Pronunciation for Foreigners by TSW (Anonymous)……………………………………………....14
Fish Cheeks by Amy Tan …………………………………………………………………………………….…17
The Boy and his Grandfather by Rudolfo A. Anaya ………………………………………………………….19
Birdfoot’s Grandpa by Joseph Bruchac ……………………………………………………………………….19
Strawberries by Gayle Ross ……………………………………………………………………………………21
Growing Pains by Jean Little …………………………………………………………………………………...23
Anansi and his Visitor, Turtle by Edna Mason Kuala ……………………………………………………….25
Forest Fire by Anais Nin ………………………………………………………………………………………...27
The Road Not Taken by Robert Frost …………………………………………………………………………31
Key Item by Isaac Asimov ………………………………………………………………………………………33
The Gift of the Magi by O. Henry ………………………………………………………………………………36
The Bunyans by Audrey Wood………………………………………………………………………………….41
I Have A Dream by Martin Luther King, Jr. .……………………………………………………………....…..44
Icarus and Daedalus by Josephine Preston Peabody …………….…...…………………………………...46
The Tell Tale Heart by Edgar Allan Poe ……………………………………………………………………....48
Miracles by Walt Whitman ………………………………………………………………………………………51
To Build A Fire by Jack London ……………………………………………………………………………...... 53
The Cask of Amontillado by Edgar Allan Poe …………………………………………………………...... 56
A Clean, Well-Lighted Placeby Ernest Hemingway …………………………………………………………59
The Lottery by Shirley Jackson ………………………………………………………………………………...65
Little Paul and His Father (Part 1) by Charles Dickens ……………………………………………………...72
Little Paul and His Father (Part 2) by Charles Dickens ……………………………………………………...75
John Barton Becomes Unemployed (Part 1) by Elizabeth Gaskell ………………………………………...77
John Barton Becomes Unemployed (Part 2) by Elizabeth Gaskell ………………………………………...79
“No News” by Connie Regan-Blake and Barbara Freeman
Connie Regan-Blake and Barbara Freeman are cousins. They are also master storytellers. The two cousins learned storytelling from their grandmother. As children, they would stay up at night coming up with more stories to tell. As adults, the two decided to record some of the stories from their childhood. They wrote a book together and began telling the stories at schools and libraries. The concerts were so successful they decided to make it a career. The two women bought a bus and traveled around the USA collecting traditional stories. Their group, ‘Folktellers’ participates in the National Storytelling Festival every year. This story, as with many of the others they tell, is a traditional story from the Deep South of the USA.
A certain Southern lady was returning home after recuperating in the mountains for three months. Her friend Georgeanne met her at the railway station.
““Georgeanne, has there been any news while I’ve been away?”
“Oh, no, there’s no news.”
“No news? Surely something has occurred in my absence. Why, I’ve been gone for nearly three months, and I’m anxious for any little bit of news you may have.”
“Oh, now, since you mentioned it – ‘course[1] it don’t amount to much – but since you’ve been away, your dog died.”
“My dog died? How did my dog die?”
“He ate some of the burnt horseflesh, and that’s what killed the dog.”
“Burnt horseflesh?”
“Well, after the fire cooled off, the dog ate some of the burnt horseflesh and that’s what killed the dog.”
“Fire cooled off?”
“Well, the barn burned down, burned up all of the cows and horses, and when the fire cooled down, the dog ate some of the burnt horseflesh, and that’s what killed the dog.”
“My barn burned down? How did my barn burn down?”
“Oh, it was a spark from the house. Blew over, lit the roof of the barn, burned down the barn, burned up all the cows and horses, and when the fire cooled off, the dog ate some of the burnt horseflesh, and that’s what killed the dog.”
“A spark from the house?
“Oh, yes, now that’s completely burned down.”
“But how did my house burn down?”
“It was the candle flame that lit the curtains, shot up the side of the wall, and burned down the house; a spark flew over on the roof of the barn, burned down the barn, burned up all of the cows and horses, and when the fire cooled off, the dog ate some of the burnt horseflesh, and that’s what killed the dog.”
“Candles? I don’t even allow candles in my house. How did the candles get into my house?”
“Oh, they were around the coffin.”
“Coffin? Who died?”
“Oh, now you needn’t[2] worry about that. Since you’ve been away, your mother-in-law died.”
“Oh, my mother-in-law. What a pity. How did she die?”
“Well, some folks say that it was the shock of hearing that your husband had run away with the choir leader. But other than that, there ain’t[3] been no news.”
Vocabulary
Translate the word into Ukrainian. Also write the transcription of each word.
1
Recuperating
To be away
News
To occur
Absence
Nearly
Anxious
To mention
Amount
Since
Burnt
Flesh
To kill
To cool
To burn
Spark
To blow
To light
Completely
Flame
Curtains
To allow
Coffin
Mother-in-law
Shock
To run away
Choir
1
Fill in the Blanks
Fill in the blank space of the sentence with a vocabulary word (in the correct tense). Then translate the sentence into Ukrainian
1) My ______is so mean. I did not know that when I married my wife I married her mother too.
2) Can you please ______the stove so that we can cook dinner?
3) Close the ______! The sun is shining brightly through the windows.
4) I have lived in Volodymyr-Volynski ______I was born.
5) I just took that cake out of the oven and it is very hot. It needs time to ______.
6) You make me so angry sometimes I think I could ______you!
7) After a person dies they are buried in a ______underground.
8) Every night my parents watch the ______to see what has happened today.
9) I have to ______my kolonka with a match before I use the bathtub.
10) We have been married for twenty years and you never ______that you hate beets. I had no idea.
True and False
Read the sentence and write whether it is true or false. If the sentence is false, rewrite it so that it is true.
1) This story is set in the northeast part of America.
2) Georgeanne has just returned from the mountains.
3) The lady’s friend Georgeanne picks her up from the railway station
4) The Southern lady has been gone for almost three years.
5) The lady’s cat died from eating a dead cow.
6) Both the lady’s house and her barn burned down.
7) A candle was lit in the lady’s house because the electricity wasn’t working.
8) The lady’s mother-in-law died while she was away.
9) The lady’s husband ran away with a shop attendant.
10) There a lot of good things happened while the lady was away and she was happy to be home.
Short Answer Questions
Answer these questions in full sentences
1) Why was the Southern lady away for three months?
2) Who picked the lady up from her journey?
3) What relative of the Southern died while she was away?
4) How did the house burn down? How did the barn burn down?
5) Do you think this story is funny or sad? Why?
Long Answer Questions
1) Rewrite the story but write it forwards instead of backwards. Start with the husband running away and end with the dog dying. (10-15 sentences)
2) Write your own story like this. Pick 6 or 7 events that are all connected and make a dialogue where you explain what happened to your friend. (10-15 sentences)
Ex: “I got a 2 on my exam.” “Why?” “Somebody stole my textbook.” “When?” etc.
Birthday Box by Jane Yolen
Jane Yolen is one of the most famous children’s book writers in the USA. She published her first books before the 9th form. Since then, she has published over 300 books. She writes stories in every genre, including comedy, drama, romance, science fiction and fantasy. She has also published over 4,000 poems. She wrote the story ‘Birthday Box’ for an anthology of stories. The editor asked 15 authors to write a story where a child receives a beautiful box for their birthday. When they open the box, it is empty. Jane Yolen wrote this story of a girl who celebrates her tenth birthday on the day her mother dies.
I was ten years old when my mother died. Ten years old on that very day. Still she gave me a party of sorts. Sick as she was, Mama had seen to it, organizing it at the hospital. She made sure the doctors and the nurses all brought me presents. We were good friends with them all by that time, because Mama had been in the hospital for so long.
The head nurse, V. Louise Higgins (I never did know what the V. stood for), gave me a little box, which was sort of funny because she was the biggest of all the nurses there. I mean she was tremendous. And she was the only one who insisted on wearing all white. Mama had called her the great white shark when she was first admitted, only not to V. Louise’ face. “All those needles,” Mama had said. “Like teeth.” But V. Louise was sweet, not sharklike at all, and she’d been so gentle with Mama.
I opened the little present first. It was a fountain pen, a real one, not a fake one like you get at Kmart.[4]
“Now you can write beautiful stories, Katie,” V. Louise said to me.
“I didn’t say that stories come out of your head, not out of a pen. That wouldn’t have been polite, and Mama – even sick – was real big on politeness.
“Thanks, V. Louise,” I said.
The Stardust Twins – which is what Mama called Patty and Tracey-Lynn because they reminded her of dancers in an old-fashioned ballroom – gave me a present together. It was a diary[5] and had a picture of a little girl in pink, reading in a garden swing. A little young for me, a little too cute. I mean, I read Stephen King[6] and want to write like him. But as Mama always reminded me whenever Dad finally remembered to send me something, it was the thought that counted, not the actual gift.
“It’s great,” I told them. “I’ll write in it with my new pen.” And I wrote my name on the first page just to show them I meant it.
They hugged me and winked at Mama. She tried to wink back but was just too tired and shut both her eyes instead.
Lily, who is from Jamaica, had baked me some sweet bread. Mary Margaret gave me a gold cross blessed by the pope, which I put on even though mama and I weren’t churchgoers. That was Dad’s thing.
Then Dr. Dann, the intern[7] who was on days, and Dr. Pucci, the oncologist (which is the fancy name for cancer doctor) gave me a big box filled to the top with little presents, each wrapped up individually. All things they knew I’d love – paperback books and writing paper and erasers with funny animal heads and colored paper clips and a rubber stamp that printed FROM KATIE’S DESK and other stuff. They must have raided a stationary store.
There was one box, though, they held out till the end. It was about the size of a large top hat. The paper was deep blue and covered with stars, not fake stars but real stars, I mean, like a map of the night sky. The ribbon was two shades of blue with silver threads running through. There was no name on the card.
“Who’s it from?” I asked.
None of the nurses answered, and the doctors both suddenly were studying the ceiling tiles with the kind of intensity they usually reserve for X rays. No one spoke. In fact the only sound for the longest time was Mama’s breathing machine going in and out and in and out. It was a harsh, horrible, insistent sound, and usually I talked and talked to cover up the noise. But I was waiting for someone to tell me.
At last V. Louise said, “It’s from your mama, Katie. She told us what she wanted. And where to get it.”
I turned and looked at Mama then, and her eyes were open again. Funny, but sickness had made her even more beautiful than good health had. Her skin was like that old paper, the kind they used to write on with quill pens, and stretched out over her bones so she looked like a model. Her eyes, which had been a deep, brilliant blue, were now like the fall sky, bleached and softened. She was like a faded photograph of herself. She smiled a very small smile at me. I knew it was an effort.
“It’s you,” she mouthed. I read her lips. I had gotten real good at that. I thought she meant it was a present for me.
“Of course it is,” I said cheerfully. I had gotten good at that, too, being cheerful when I didn’t feel like it. “Of course it is.”
I took the paper off the box carefully, not tearing it but folding it into a tidy packet. I twisted the ribbons around my hand and then put them on the pillow by her hand. It made the stark white hospital bed look almost festive.
Under the wrapping, the box was beautiful itself. It was made of heavy cardboard and covered with a linen material that had a pattern of cloud-filled skies.
I opened the box slowly and…
“It’s empty,” I said. “Is this a joke?” I turned to ask Mama, but she was gone. I mean, her body was there but she wasn’t. It was as if she was as empty as the box.
Dr. Pucci leaned over her and listened with a stethoscope, then almost absently patted Mama’s head. Then, with infinite care, V. Louise closed Mama’s eyes, ran her hand across Mama’s cheek, and turned off the breathing machine.
“Mama!” I cried. And to the nurses and doctors, I screamed, “Do something!” And because the room had suddenly become so silent, my voice echoed back at me. “Mama, do something.”
*****
I cried steadily for, I think, a week. Then I cried at night for a couple of months. And then for about a year I cried at anniversaries, like Mama’s birthday, or mine, at Thanksgiving, on Mother’s Day[8]. I stopped writing. I stopped reading except for school assignments. I was pretty mean to my half brothers and totally rotten to my stepmother and Dad. I felt empty and angry, and they all left me pretty much alone.
And then one night, right after my first birthday without Mama, I woke up remembering how she had said, “It’s you.” Not, “It’s for you,” just “It’s you.” Now Mama had been a high school[9] English teacher and a writer herself. She’d had poems published in little magazines. She didn’t use words carelessly. In the end she could hardly use any words at all. So – I asked myself in that dark room – why had she said, “It’s you.” Why were they the very last words she had ever said to me, forced out with her last breath?
I turned on the bedside light and got out of bed. The room was full of shadows, not all of them real.
Pulling the desk chair over to my closet, I climbed up and felt along the top shelf, and against the back wall, there was the birthday box, just where I had thrown it the day I had moved in with my dad.
I pulled it down and opened it up. It was as empty as the day I had put it away.
“It’s you,” I whispered to the box.
And then suddenly I knew.
Mama had meant that I was the box, solid and sturdy, maybe even beautiful or at least interesting on the outside. But I had to fill up the box to make it all it could be. And I had to fill me up as well. She had guessed what might happen to me, had told me in a subtle way. In the two words she could manage.
I stopped crying and got some paper out of the desk drawer. I got out my fountain pen. I started writing, and I haven’t stopped since. The first thing I wrote was about that birthday. I put it in the box, and pretty soon that box was overflowing with stories. And poems. And memories.
And so was I.
And so was I.
Vocabulary
Translate the word into Ukrainian. Also write the transcription of each word.
1
To die
To organize
Tremendous
To insist
Needle
Gentle
Beautiful
Polite
Twins
To remind
Swing
To hug
To wink
Instead
To bake
Cross
Cancer
Individually
Map
Sky
Ribbon
To answer
Sound
Horrible
To turn
Sickness
Model
Faded
Effort
Pattern
Empty
Joke
Breath
Machine
Steadily
Carelessly
End
Shadow
To whisper
Suddenly
To fill
To guess
Subtle
To overflow
Stories
Poems
Memories
1