Final Review / 9.1A

The following will appear on the final exam:

Literary Elements:

  • Theme
  • Similes – LIKE or AS Alex Bales kicks the ball as if he were on steroids.
  • Metaphors – Comparison DOES NOT USE LIKE/AS – Stoops is a raging bull on the rugby pitch.
  • Allusions – reference to a specific historical person, place, work of art/literature
  • Main idea
  • Symbol
  • Point of view—First person (I), third person
  • Inferences
  • Vocabulary in context
  • Imagery
  • Irony—situational and verbal
  • Major/minor characters
  • Static/dynamic characters

Writing:

  • Reading prompts
  • Writing ASSERTIONS
  • AXES paragraph—Assertion, Example, eXplanation, Significance
  • Parts of MLA format—header, heading, size, font, spacing
  • Using quotes to support major points
  • Paragraph structure: topic sentences, explanation, transitions

Grammar:

  • Combining sentences with conjunctions
  • Recognizing correct sentences
  • Recognizing and correcting fragments and run-ons
  • Recognizing and knowing how to punctuate the conjunctions
  • Coordinating conjunctions (FANBOYS)
  • Subordinating conjunctions (AAAWWWUUBBIS)

READING COMPREHENSION & LITERARY TERMS

Directions: Read the following passage from Speak and answer the following questions.

SPOTLIGHT

(1)I find my locker after social studies. The lock sticks a little, but I open it. I dive into the stream of fourth-period lunch students and swim down the hall to the cafeteria.

(2)I know enough not to bring lunch on the first day of high school. There is no way of telling what the acceptable fashion will be. Brown bags—humble testament to suburbia, or terminal geek gear? Insulated lunch bags—hip way to save the planet, or sign of an overinvolved mother? Buying is the only solution. And it gives me time to scan the cafeteria for a friendly face or an inconspicuous corner.

(3)The hot lunch is turkey with reconstituted dried mashed potatoes and gravy, a damp green vegetable, and a cookie. I'm not sure how to order anything else, so I just slide my tray along and let the lunch drones fill it. This eight-foot senior in front of me somehow gets three cheeseburgers, French fries, and two Ho-Hos without saying a word. Some sort of Morse code with his eyes, maybe. Must study this further. I follow the Basketball Pole into the cafeteria.

(4)I see a few friends—people I used to think were my friends—but they look away. Think fast, think fast. There's that new girl, Heather, reading by the window. I could sit across from her. Or I could crawl behind a trash can. Or maybe I could dump my lunch straight into the trash and keep moving right on out the door.

(5)The Basketball Pole waves to a table of friends. Of course. The basketball team. They all swear at him—a bizarre greeting practiced by athletic boys with zits. He smiles and throws a Ho-Ho. I try to scoot around him.

(6)Thwap! A lump of potatoes and gravy hits me square in the center of my chest. All conversation stops as the entire lunchroom gawks, my face burning into their retinas. I will be forever known as "that girl who got nailed by potatoes the first day." The Basketball Pole apologizes and says something else, but four hundred people explode in laughter and I can't read lips. I ditch my tray and bolt for the door.

(7)I motor so fast out of the lunchroom the track coach would draft me for varsity if he were around. But no, Mr. Neck has cafeteria duty. And Mr. Neck has no use for girls who can run the one hundred in under ten seconds, unless they're willing to do it while holding on to a football.

(8)Mr. Neck: "We meet again."

Me:

Would he listen to "I need to go home and change," or "Did you see what that bozo did"? Not a chance. I keep my mouth shut.

Mr. Neck: "Where do you think you're going?"

Me:

(9)It is easier not to say anything. Shut your trap, button your lip, can it. All that crap you hear on TV about communication and expressing feelings is a lie. Nobody really wants to hear what you have to say.

(10) Mr. Neck makes a note in his book. "I knew you were trouble the first time I saw you. I've taught here for twenty-four years and I can tell what's going on in a kid's head just by looking in their eyes. No more warnings. You just earned a demerit for wandering the halls without a pass."

Reading Comprehension

  1. What literary term best describes the comparison in paragraph 1?
  2. simile
  3. style
  4. metaphor
  5. What can you infer from the dialogue in paragraph 8 between Mr. Neck and Melinda?
  6. Melinda has a crush onMr. Neck.
  7. Melinda has no respect for Mr. Neck.
  8. Melinda believes that Mr. Neck won’t listen to her.
  9. Choose the best meaning for the word reconstituted as used in paragraph 3.
  10. soggy
  11. odorous
  12. unappetizing
  13. Which of the following is the best theme of the passage?
  14. Teachers are out to get all students.
  15. School lunches are a disgusting and problematic school ritual.
  16. Speaking up isn’t worth it if no one is going to listen.
  1. Melinda’s lunch line behavior in paragraph 3 is symbolic of her school year because _____
  2. Melinda is a nerdy new student who is always getting picked on.
  3. Melinda is unable to speak up to say what she wants.
  4. Melinda brings a lunchbox to school and gets made fun of.

Grammar

Directions: Read the following sentences and choose which one is correct.

  1. a. Speak is one of my favorite books; because it is relevant to my life.

b. Speak is one of my favorite books; it is relevant to my life.

c. Speak is one of my favorite books. because it is relevant to my life.

  1. a. Melinda a struggling ninth grader is not enjoying the start of her high school career.

b. Melinda: a struggling ninth grader is not enjoying the start of her high school career.

c. Melinda, a struggling ninth grader, is not enjoying the start of her high school career.

  1. a. Mr. Neck a mean teacher.

b. Mr. Neck a mean teacher yelled at Melinda for something that was not her fault being late.

c. Mr. Neck is a mean teacher who yelled at Melinda for being late, even though it was not her fault.

Directions:Read the following passage from Speak and answer the questions that follow.

REAL SPRING

(1) May is finally here and it has stopped raining. Good thing, too—the mayor of Syracuse was about to put out a call for a guy named Noah.The sun appears butter-yellow and so warm it coaxes tulips out of the crusty mud. A miracle.

(2) Our yard is a mess. All our neighbors have these great magazine-cover yards with flowers that match their shutters and expensive white rocks that border fresh mounds of mulch. Ours has green bushes that just about cover the front windows, and lots of dead leaves.

(3) Mom is already gone. Saturday is the biggest selling day of the week at Effert’s. Dad snores upstairs. I put on old jeans and unearth a rake from the back of the garage. I start on the leaves suffocating the bushes. I bet Dad hasn’t cleaned them out for years. They look harmless and dry on top, but under that top layer they’re wet and slimy. White mold snakes from one leaf to the next. The leaves stick together like floppy pages in a decomposing book. I rake a mountain into the front yard and there are still more, like the earth pukes up leaf gunk when I’m not looking. I have to fight the bushes. They snag the tines of the rake and hold them—they don’t like me cleaning out all that rot.

(4) It takes an hour. Finally the rake scrapes its metal fingernails along the damp brown dirt. I get down on my knees to reach behind and drag out the last leaves. Ms. Keen would be proud of me. I observe. Worms caught in the sun squirm for cover. Pale green shoots of something alive have been struggling under the leaves. As I watch, they straighten to face the sun. I swear I can see them grow.

(5) The garage door opens and Dad backs out the Jeep. He stops in the driveway when he sees me. He turns off the engine and gets out. I stand up and brush the dirt off my jeans. My palms are blistered and my arms are already sore from the raking. I can’t tell if he’s angry or not. Maybe he likes the front of the house looking like crap.

(6) Dad: “That’s a lot of work.”

(7) Me:

(8) Dad: “I’ll get some leaf bags at the store.”

(9) Me:

(10) We both stand there with our arms crossed, staring at the little baby plants trying to grow in the shade of the house-eating bushes. The sun goes behind a cloud and I shiver. I should have worn a sweatshirt. The wind rustles dead lives still clinging to the oak branches by the street. All I can think of is that the rest of the leaves are going to drop and I’ll have to keep raking.

(11) Dad: “Looks a lot better. Cleaned out like that, I mean.”

(12) The wind blows again. The leaves tremble.

(13) Dad: “I suppose I should trim back the bushes. If course then you’d see the shutters and they need paint. And if I paint these shutters, I’ll have to paint all the shutters, and the trim needs work, too. And the front door.”

(14) Me:

(15) Tree: “Hust rustle chitachita shhhh…”

(16) Dad turns to listen to the tree. I’m not sure what to do.

(17) Dad: “And that tree is sick. See how the branches on the left don’t have any buds? I should call someone to take a look at it. Don’t want it crashing into your room during a storm.”

(18) Thanks, Dad. Like I’m not already having a hard time sleeping. Worry #64: flying tree limbs. I shouldn’t have raked anything. Look what I started. I shouldn’t have tried something new. I should have stayed in the house. Watched cartoons with a double-sized bowl of Cheerios. Should have stayed in my room. Stayed in my head.

(19) Dad: “I guess I’m going to the hardware store. Want to come?”

(20) The hardware store. Seven acres of unshaven men and bright-eyed women in search of the perfect screwdriver, week killer, volcanic gas grills. Noise. Lights. Kids running down the aisle with hatchets and axes and saw blades. People fighting about the right color to paint the bathroom. No thank you.

(21) I shake my head. I pick up the rake and start making the dead-leaf pile neater. A blister pops and stains the rake handle like a tear. Dad nods and walks to the Jeep, keys jangling in his fingers. A mocking bird lands on a low oak branch and scolds me. I rake the leaves out of my throat.

(22) Me: “Can you buys some seeds? Flower seeds?”

9. Which of the following lines is NOT an example of imagery?

a. A blister pops and stains the rake handle like a tear.

b. Kids running down the aisle with hatchets and axes and saw blades.

c. The sun goes behind a cloud and I shiver.

10. Which of the following lines contains an allusion?

a. Good thing, too—the mayor of Syracuse was about to put out a call for a guy named Noah.

b. Tree: “Hust rustle chitachita shhhh…”

c. The hardware store.

11. Which of the following lines contains a simile?

a.They look harmless and dry on top, but under that top layer they’re wet and slimy.

b. The leaves stick together like floppy pages in a decomposing book.

c. People fighting about the right color to paint the bathroom.

12. Which of the following explanations is the best reason why Melinda is a dynamic character?

a. Melinda is a dynamic character because she changes.

b. Melinda is a dynamic character because she realizes she needs to speak out and grow.

c.Melinda is a dynamic character because she starts doing yard work.

13. Which of the following explanations is the best reason why Melinda’s dad is a minor character?

a. Dad is a minor character because he is an antagonist.

b. Dad is a minor character because he does not matter that much to the story.

c. Dad is a minor character because he supports and helps Melinda.

Directions:Read the following selection. Then answer the questions that follow.

The narrator, a dog, has been sold recently to a new family in a new home, where she hassettled in and even given birth to a puppy of her own. Before the narrator left her old home,her mother had said to her, “In memory of me, when there is a time of danger to another donot think of yourself, think of your mother, and do as she would do.”

A Dog’s TalebyMark Twain

Then came the winter. One day I was standing a watch in the nursery. That is tosay, I was asleep on the bed. The baby was asleep in the crib, which was alongside thebed, on the side next the fireplace. It was the kind of crib that has a lofty tent over it madeof a gauzy stuff that you can see through. The nurse was out, and we two sleepers werealone. A spark from the wood-fire was shot out, and it lit on the slope of the tent. Isuppose a quiet interval followed, then a scream from the baby woke me, and there wasthat tent flaming up toward the ceiling! Before I could think, I sprang to the floor in myfright, and in a second was half-way to the door; but in the next half-second my mother’sfarewell was sounding in my ears, and I was back on the bed again. I reached my head through the flames and dragged the baby out by the waistband, and tugged it along, andwe fell to the floor together in a cloud of smoke; I snatched a new hold and dragged thescreaming little creature along and out at the door and 10around the bend of the hall, andwas still tugging away, all excited and happy and proud, when the master’s voiceshouted:

“Begone, you cursed beast!” and I jumped to save myself; but he was wonderfullyquick, and chased me up, striking furiously at me with his cane, I dodging this way andthat, in terror, and at last a strong blow fell upon my left fore-leg, which made me shriekand fall, for the moment, helpless; the cane went up for another blow, but neverdescended, for the nurse’s voice rang wildly out, “The nursery’s on fire!” and the masterrushed away in that direction, and my other bones were saved.

The pain was cruel, but, no matter, I must not lose any time; he might come backat any moment; so I limped on three legs to the other end of the hall, where there was adark little stairway leading up into a garret where old boxes and such things were kept, asI had heard say, and where people seldom went. I managed to climb up 20there, then Isearched my way through the dark among the piles of things, and hid in the secretest place I could find. It was foolish to be afraid there, yet still I was; so afraid that I held inand hardly even whimpered, though it would have been such a comfort to whimper,because that eases the pain, you know. But I could lick my leg, and that did me somegood.

For half an hour there was a commotion down-stairs, and shoutings, and rushingfootsteps, and then there was quiet again. Quiet for some minutes, and that was gratefulto my spirit, for then my fears began to go down; and fears are worse than pains, —oh,much worse. Then came a sound that froze me! They were calling me—calling me byname—hunting for me!

It was muffled by distance, but that could not take the terror out of it, and it wasthe most dreadful sound to me that I had ever heard. It went all about, everywhere, downthere: along the halls, through all the rooms, in both 30stories, and in the basement and thecellar; then outside, and further and further away—then back, and all about the houseagain, and I thought it would never, never stop. But at last it did, hours and hours after thevague twilight of the garret had long ago been blotted out by black darkness.

Then in that blessed stillness my terror fell little by little away, and I was at peaceand slept. It was a good rest I had, but I woke before the twilight had come again. I wasfeeling fairly comfortable, and I could think out a plan now. I made a very good one;which was, to creep down, all the way down the back stairs, and hide behind the cellar

door, and slip out and escape when the iceman came at dawn, while he was inside fillingthe refrigerator; then I would hide all day, and start on my journey when night came; myjourney to—well, anywhere where they would not know me and betray me to the master.I was feeling almost cheerful now; then suddenly I thought, Why, what would life bewithout my puppy!

40That was despair. There was no plan for me; I saw that; I must stay where I was;stay, and wait, and take what might come—it was not my affair; that was what lifeis—my mother had said it. Then—well, then the calling began again! All my sorrowscame back. I said to myself, the master will never forgive. I did not know what I haddone to make him so bitter and so unforgiving, yet I judged it was something a dog couldnot understand, but which was clear to a man and dreadful.