At this point, all essays are LATE. Anyone who did not take Monday's vocabulary test, needs to make this up. Make sure to turn in your graphic organizer, as well- unless we have had a previous conversation.
In class. part 1 review of the common core exam. class handout / copy below. These will be collected as a participation grade tomorrow, after we go over the responses.
Tomorrow we are also collecting the play The Crucible by Arthur Miller
Note that on Monday, Tuesday and Thursday's after school, there is regents review. This will take place in room 176 through June 19. For everyday you attend- and work productively- you will receive 1 additional point to your base line grade. As well, everyone who shows for the Common Core exam will receive 2 points to his or her base grade.
Lastly, keep in mind that the ELA exam is a line item on your transcript; that means colleges will see this. If you are not content with this score, you should consider retaking the Regents during exam week. Let me know, and I'll get you signed up.
Directions (1–18): Below each of the three passages, there are several multiple-choice questions.
Select the best suggested answer to each question. You may use the margins to take notes as you
read.
Passage A
It was eleven o’clock that night when Mr. Pontellier returned
from Klein’s hotel. He was in an excellent humor, in high spirits,
and very talkative. His entrance awoke his wife, who was in bed and fast asleep when he came in. He talked to her while he undressed, telling her anecdotes and bits of news and gossip that he had gathered during the day. From his trousers pockets he took a fistful of crumpled bank notes and a good deal of silver coin, which he piled on the bureau indiscriminately with keys, knife, handkerchief, and whatever else happened to be in his pockets. She was overcome with sleep, and answered him with little half utterances.
He thought it very discouraging that his wife, who was the sole
object of his existence, evinced so little interest in things which
concerned him, and valued so little his conversation.
Mr. Pontellier had forgotten the bonbons and peanuts for the
boys. Notwithstanding he loved them very much, and went into the
adjoining room where they slept to take a look at them and make
sure that they were resting comfortably. The result of his
investigation was far from satisfactory. He turned and shifted the
youngsters about in bed. One of them began to kick and talk about a basket full of crabs.
Mr. Pontellier returned to his wife with information that Raoul
had a high fever and needed looking after. Then he lit a cigar and
went and sat near the open door to smoke it.
Mrs. Pontellier was quite sure Raoul had no fever. He had gone
to bed perfectly well, she said, and nothing had ailed him all day.
Mr. Pontellier was too well acquainted with fever symptoms to be
mistaken. He assured her the child was consuming
at that moment in the next room.
He reproached his wife with her inattention, her habitual neglect
of the children. If it was not a mother’s place to look after children,
___________________
1 evinced — clearly showed
2 consuming — wasting away
whose on earth was it? He himself had his hands full with his
brokerage business. He could not be in two places at once; making a living for his family on the street, and staying at home to see that no harm befell them. He talked in a monotonous, insistent way.
Mrs. Pontellier sprang out of bed and went into the next room.
She soon came back and sat on the edge of the bed, leaning her head down on the pillow. She said nothing, and refused to answer her husband when he questioned her. When his cigar was smoked out he went to bed, and in half a minute he was fast asleep.
It was then past midnight. The cottages were all dark. A single white light gleamed out of the hallway of the house. There was no sound abroad, except for the hooting of an old owl in the top of the water oak, and the everlasting voice of the sea, that was not uplifted at that hour. It broke like a mournful lullaby upon the night.
Mrs. Pontellier was by that time thoroughly awake. She began
to cry a little, and wiped her eyes on the sleeve of her peignoir.
Blowing out the candle, which her husband had left burning, she
slipped her bare feet into a pair of satin mules at the foot of the bed
and went out on the porch, where she sat down in the wicker chair
and began to rock gently to and fro.
The tears came so fast to Mrs. Pontellier’s eyes that the damp
sleeve of her peignoir no longer served to dry them. She was holding
the back of her chair with one hand; her loose sleeve had slipped
almost to the shoulder of her uplifted arm. Turning, she thrust her
face, steaming and wet, into the bend of her arm, and she went on
crying there, not caring any longer to dry her face, her eyes, her
arms. She could not have told why she was crying. Such experiences
as the foregoing were not uncommon in her married life. They
seemed never before to have weighed much against the abundance
of her husband’s kindness and a uniform devotion which had come
to be tacit and self-understood.
An indescribable oppression, which seemed to generate in some
unfamiliar part of her consciousness, filled her whole being with a
vague anguish. It was like a shadow, like a mist passing across her
soul’s summer day. It was strange and unfamiliar; it was a mood.
She did not sit there inwardly upbraiding her husband, lamenting at
Fate, which had directed her footsteps to the path which they had
taken. She was just having a good cry all to herself. The mosquitoes made merry over her, biting her firm, round arms and nipping at her bare insteps.
The little stinging, buzzing imps succeeded in dispelling a mood
which might have held her there in the darkness half a night longer.
The following morning Mr. Pontellier was up in good time to
take the rockaway which was to convey him to the steamer at the wharf. He was returning to the city to his business, and they would
not see him again at the Island till the coming Saturday. He had
regained his composure, which seemed to have been somewhat
impaired the night before. He was eager to be gone, as he looked
forward to a lively week in Carondelet Street.
Mr. Pontellier gave his wife half of the money which he had
brought away from Klein’s hotel the evening before. She liked
money as well as most women, and accepted it with no little
satisfaction. …
A few days later a box arrived for Mrs. Pontellier from New
Orleans. It was from her husband. It was filled with friandises,
with luscious and toothsome
bits—the finest of fruits, pates, a rare bottle
or two, delicious syrups, and bonbons in abundance.
Mrs. Pontellier was always very generous with the contents of
such a box; she was quite used to receiving them when away from
home. The pates and fruit were brought to the dining-room; the
bonbons were passed around. And the ladies, selecting with dainty
and discriminating fingers and a little greedily, all declared that Mr.
Pontellier was the best husband in the world. Mrs. Pontellier was
forced to admit that she knew of none better.
—Kate Chopin
excerpted from The Awakening, 1899
