First Nine Weeks Unit Test

Identify if the statement is a true or false example of the type of conflict. Man vs. Self :     William felt guilty for locking Margot in the closet.

Identify if the statement is a true or false example of the type of conflict. Man vs. Man :    Gary Soto sits depressingly in the alleyway because he does not like his jacket.

Identify if the statement is a true or false example of the type of conflict. Man vs. Society:    Rachel does not like Sylvia Saldavar’s input on the sweater.

Identify if the statement is a true or false example of the type of conflict. Man vs. Nature:    The school children had to stand under heating lamps because there was a lack of sun exposure

Boar Out There Short story by Cynthia Rylant   1          Everyone in Glen Morgan knew there was a wild boar in the woods over by the Miller farm.  The boar was out beyond the splintery rail fence and past the old black Dodge that somehow had ended up in the woods and was missing most of its parts. 2          Jenny would hook her chin over the top rail of the fence, twirl a long green blade of grass in her teeth and whisper, “Boar out there.” 3          And there were times she was sure she heard him.  She imagined him running heavily through the trees, ignoring the sharp thorns and briars that raked his back and sprang away trembling. 4          She thought he might have a golden horn on his terrible head.  The boar would run deep into the woods, then rise up on his rear hooves, throw his head toward the stars and cry a long, clear, sure note into the air.  The note would glide through the night and spear the heart of the moon.  The boar had no fear of the moon, Jenny knew, as she lay in bed, listening. 5          One hot summer day she went to find the boar.  No one in Glen Morgan had ever gone past the old black Dodge and beyond, as far as she knew.  But the boar was there somewhere, between those awful trees, and his dark green eyes waited for someone. 6          Jenny felt it was she. 7          Moving slowly over damp brown leaves, Jenny could sense her ears tingle and fan out as she listened for thick breathing from the trees.  She stopped to pick a teaberry leaf to chew, stood a minute, then went on. 8          Deep in the woods she kept her eyes to the sky.  She needed to be reminded that there was a world above and apart from the trees - a world of space and air, air that didn’t linger all about her, didn’t press deep into her skin, as forest air did. 9          Finally, leaning against a tree to rest, she heard him for the first time.  She forgot to breathe, standing there listening to the stamping of hooves, and she choked and coughed. 10        Coughed! 11        And now the pounding was horrible, too loud and confusing for Jenny.  Horrible.  She stood stiff with wet eyes and knew she could always pray, but for some reason didn’t. 12        He came through the trees so fast that she had no time to scream or run.  And he was there before her. 13        His large gray-black body shivered as he waited just beyond the shadow of the tree she held for support.  His nostrils glistened, and his eyes; but astonishingly, he was silent.  He shivered and glistened and was absolutely silent. 14        Jenny matched his silence, and her body was rigid, but not her eyes.  They traveled along his scarred, bristling back to his thick hind legs.  Tears spilling and flooding her face, Jenny stared at the boar’s ragged ears, caked with blood.  Her tears dropped to the leaves, and the only sound between them was his slow breathing. 15        Then the boar snorted and jerked.  But Jenny did not move. 16        High in the trees a bluejay yelled, and, suddenly, it was over.  Jenny stood like a rock as the boar wildly flung his head and in terror bolted past her.  17        Past her…. 18        And now, since that summer, Jenny still hooks her chin over the old rail fence, and she still whispers, “Boar out there.”  But when she leans on the fence, looking into the trees, her eyes are full and she leaves wet patches on the splintery wood.  She is sorry for the torn ears of the boar and sorry that he has no golden horn. 19        But mostly she is sorry that he lives in fear of bluejays and little girls, when everyone in Glen Morgan lives in fear of him. PART OF THE EXPOSITION OF THIS STORY IS:

Boar Out There Short story by Cynthia Rylant   1          Everyone in Glen Morgan knew there was a wild boar in the woods over by the Miller farm.  The boar was out beyond the splintery rail fence and past the old black Dodge that somehow had ended up in the woods and was missing most of its parts. 2          Jenny would hook her chin over the top rail of the fence, twirl a long green blade of grass in her teeth and whisper, “Boar out there.” 3          And there were times she was sure she heard him.  She imagined him running heavily through the trees, ignoring the sharp thorns and briars that raked his back and sprang away trembling. 4          She thought he might have a golden horn on his terrible head.  The boar would run deep into the woods, then rise up on his rear hooves, throw his head toward the stars and cry a long, clear, sure note into the air.  The note would glide through the night and spear the heart of the moon.  The boar had no fear of the moon, Jenny knew, as she lay in bed, listening. 5          One hot summer day she went to find the boar.  No one in Glen Morgan had ever gone past the old black Dodge and beyond, as far as she knew.  But the boar was there somewhere, between those awful trees, and his dark green eyes waited for someone. 6          Jenny felt it was she. 7          Moving slowly over damp brown leaves, Jenny could sense her ears tingle and fan out as she listened for thick breathing from the trees.  She stopped to pick a teaberry leaf to chew, stood a minute, then went on. 8          Deep in the woods she kept her eyes to the sky.  She needed to be reminded that there was a world above and apart from the trees - a world of space and air, air that didn’t linger all about her, didn’t press deep into her skin, as forest air did. 9          Finally, leaning against a tree to rest, she heard him for the first time.  She forgot to breathe, standing there listening to the stamping of hooves, and she choked and coughed. 10        Coughed! 11        And now the pounding was horrible, too loud and confusing for Jenny.  Horrible.  She stood stiff with wet eyes and knew she could always pray, but for some reason didn’t. 12        He came through the trees so fast that she had no time to scream or run.  And he was there before her. 13        His large gray-black body shivered as he waited just beyond the shadow of the tree she held for support.  His nostrils glistened, and his eyes; but astonishingly, he was silent.  He shivered and glistened and was absolutely silent. 14        Jenny matched his silence, and her body was rigid, but not her eyes.  They traveled along his scarred, bristling back to his thick hind legs.  Tears spilling and flooding her face, Jenny stared at the boar’s ragged ears, caked with blood.  Her tears dropped to the leaves, and the only sound between them was his slow breathing. 15        Then the boar snorted and jerked.  But Jenny did not move. 16        High in the trees a bluejay yelled, and, suddenly, it was over.  Jenny stood like a rock as the boar wildly flung his head and in terror bolted past her.  17        Past her…. 18        And now, since that summer, Jenny still hooks her chin over the old rail fence, and she still whispers, “Boar out there.”  But when she leans on the fence, looking into the trees, her eyes are full and she leaves wet patches on the splintery wood.  She is sorry for the torn ears of the boar and sorry that he has no golden horn. 19        But mostly she is sorry that he lives in fear of bluejays and little girls, when everyone in Glen Morgan lives in fear of him. The rising action in the Boar Out There is in__________________.  (the numbers on the left indicate the paragraphs)

Boar Out There Short story by Cynthia Rylant   1          Everyone in Glen Morgan knew there was a wild boar in the woods over by the Miller farm.  The boar was out beyond the splintery rail fence and past the old black Dodge that somehow had ended up in the woods and was missing most of its parts. 2          Jenny would hook her chin over the top rail of the fence, twirl a long green blade of grass in her teeth and whisper, “Boar out there.” 3          And there were times she was sure she heard him.  She imagined him running heavily through the trees, ignoring the sharp thorns and briars that raked his back and sprang away trembling. 4          She thought he might have a golden horn on his terrible head.  The boar would run deep into the woods, then rise up on his rear hooves, throw his head toward the stars and cry a long, clear, sure note into the air.  The note would glide through the night and spear the heart of the moon.  The boar had no fear of the moon, Jenny knew, as she lay in bed, listening. 5          One hot summer day she went to find the boar.  No one in Glen Morgan had ever gone past the old black Dodge and beyond, as far as she knew.  But the boar was there somewhere, between those awful trees, and his dark green eyes waited for someone. 6          Jenny felt it was she. 7          Moving slowly over damp brown leaves, Jenny could sense her ears tingle and fan out as she listened for thick breathing from the trees.  She stopped to pick a teaberry leaf to chew, stood a minute, then went on. 8          Deep in the woods she kept her eyes to the sky.  She needed to be reminded that there was a world above and apart from the trees - a world of space and air, air that didn’t linger all about her, didn’t press deep into her skin, as forest air did. 9          Finally, leaning against a tree to rest, she heard him for the first time.  She forgot to breathe, standing there listening to the stamping of hooves, and she choked and coughed. 10        Coughed! 11        And now the pounding was horrible, too loud and confusing for Jenny.  Horrible.  She stood stiff with wet eyes and knew she could always pray, but for some reason didn’t. 12        He came through the trees so fast that she had no time to scream or run.  And he was there before her. 13        His large gray-black body shivered as he waited just beyond the shadow of the tree she held for support.  His nostrils glistened, and his eyes; but astonishingly, he was silent.  He shivered and glistened and was absolutely silent. 14        Jenny matched his silence, and her body was rigid, but not her eyes.  They traveled along his scarred, bristling back to his thick hind legs.  Tears spilling and flooding her face, Jenny stared at the boar’s ragged ears, caked with blood.  Her tears dropped to the leaves, and the only sound between them was his slow breathing. 15        Then the boar snorted and jerked.  But Jenny did not move. 16        High in the trees a bluejay yelled, and, suddenly, it was over.  Jenny stood like a rock as the boar wildly flung his head and in terror bolted past her.  17        Past her…. 18        And now, since that summer, Jenny still hooks her chin over the old rail fence, and she still whispers, “Boar out there.”  But when she leans on the fence, looking into the trees, her eyes are full and she leaves wet patches on the splintery wood.  She is sorry for the torn ears of the boar and sorry that he has no golden horn. 19        But mostly she is sorry that he lives in fear of bluejays and little girls, when everyone in Glen Morgan lives in fear of him. “Jenny’s ears tingle and she listens for thick breathing” helps to build suspense?

Boar Out There Short story by Cynthia Rylant   1          Everyone in Glen Morgan knew there was a wild boar in the woods over by the Miller farm.  The boar was out beyond the splintery rail fence and past the old black Dodge that somehow had ended up in the woods and was missing most of its parts. 2          Jenny would hook her chin over the top rail of the fence, twirl a long green blade of grass in her teeth and whisper, “Boar out there.” 3          And there were times she was sure she heard him.  She imagined him running heavily through the trees, ignoring the sharp thorns and briars that raked his back and sprang away trembling. 4          She thought he might have a golden horn on his terrible head.  The boar would run deep into the woods, then rise up on his rear hooves, throw his head toward the stars and cry a long, clear, sure note into the air.  The note would glide through the night and spear the heart of the moon.  The boar had no fear of the moon, Jenny knew, as she lay in bed, listening. 5          One hot summer day she went to find the boar.  No one in Glen Morgan had ever gone past the old black Dodge and beyond, as far as she knew.  But the boar was there somewhere, between those awful trees, and his dark green eyes waited for someone. 6          Jenny felt it was she. 7          Moving slowly over damp brown leaves, Jenny could sense her ears tingle and fan out as she listened for thick breathing from the trees.  She stopped to pick a teaberry leaf to chew, stood a minute, then went on. 8          Deep in the woods she kept her eyes to the sky.  She needed to be reminded that there was a world above and apart from the trees - a world of space and air, air that didn’t linger all about her, didn’t press deep into her skin, as forest air did. 9          Finally, leaning against a tree to rest, she heard him for the first time.  She forgot to breathe, standing there listening to the stamping of hooves, and she choked and coughed. 10        Coughed! 11        And now the pounding was horrible, too loud and confusing for Jenny.  Horrible.  She stood stiff with wet eyes and knew she could always pray, but for some reason didn’t. 12        He came through the trees so fast that she had no time to scream or run.  And he was there before her. 13        His large gray-black body shivered as he waited just beyond the shadow of the tree she held for support.  His nostrils glistened, and his eyes; but astonishingly, he was silent.  He shivered and glistened and was absolutely silent. 14        Jenny matched his silence, and her body was rigid, but not her eyes.  They traveled along his scarred, bristling back to his thick hind legs.  Tears spilling and flooding her face, Jenny stared at the boar’s ragged ears, caked with blood.  Her tears dropped to the leaves, and the only sound between them was his slow breathing. 15        Then the boar snorted and jerked.  But Jenny did not move. 16        High in the trees a bluejay yelled, and, suddenly, it was over.  Jenny stood like a rock as the boar wildly flung his head and in terror bolted past her.  17        Past her…. 18        And now, since that summer, Jenny still hooks her chin over the old rail fence, and she still whispers, “Boar out there.”  But when she leans on the fence, looking into the trees, her eyes are full and she leaves wet patches on the splintery wood.  She is sorry for the torn ears of the boar and sorry that he has no golden horn. 19        But mostly she is sorry that he lives in fear of bluejays and little girls, when everyone in Glen Morgan lives in fear of him. In paragraph 12, when he (the boar) came through the trees, and she had no time to scream is the _____________________ of the story.

Boar Out There Short story by Cynthia Rylant   1          Everyone in Glen Morgan knew there was a wild boar in the woods over by the Miller farm.  The boar was out beyond the splintery rail fence and past the old black Dodge that somehow had ended up in the woods and was missing most of its parts. 2          Jenny would hook her chin over the top rail of the fence, twirl a long green blade of grass in her teeth and whisper, “Boar out there.” 3          And there were times she was sure she heard him.  She imagined him running heavily through the trees, ignoring the sharp thorns and briars that raked his back and sprang away trembling. 4          She thought he might have a golden horn on his terrible head.  The boar would run deep into the woods, then rise up on his rear hooves, throw his head toward the stars and cry a long, clear, sure note into the air.  The note would glide through the night and spear the heart of the moon.  The boar had no fear of the moon, Jenny knew, as she lay in bed, listening. 5          One hot summer day she went to find the boar.  No one in Glen Morgan had ever gone past the old black Dodge and beyond, as far as she knew.  But the boar was there somewhere, between those awful trees, and his dark green eyes waited for someone. 6          Jenny felt it was she. 7          Moving slowly over damp brown leaves, Jenny could sense her ears tingle and fan out as she listened for thick breathing from the trees.  She stopped to pick a teaberry leaf to chew, stood a minute, then went on. 8          Deep in the woods she kept her eyes to the sky.  She needed to be reminded that there was a world above and apart from the trees - a world of space and air, air that didn’t linger all about her, didn’t press deep into her skin, as forest air did. 9          Finally, leaning against a tree to rest, she heard him for the first time.  She forgot to breathe, standing there listening to the stamping of hooves, and she choked and coughed. 10        Coughed! 11        And now the pounding was horrible, too loud and confusing for Jenny.  Horrible.  She stood stiff with wet eyes and knew she could always pray, but for some reason didn’t. 12        He came through the trees so fast that she had no time to scream or run.  And he was there before her. 13        His large gray-black body shivered as he waited just beyond the shadow of the tree she held for support.  His nostrils glistened, and his eyes; but astonishingly, he was silent.  He shivered and glistened and was absolutely silent. 14        Jenny matched his silence, and her body was rigid, but not her eyes.  They traveled along his scarred, bristling back to his thick hind legs.  Tears spilling and flooding her face, Jenny stared at the boar’s ragged ears, caked with blood.  Her tears dropped to the leaves, and the only sound between them was his slow breathing. 15        Then the boar snorted and jerked.  But Jenny did not move. 16        High in the trees a bluejay yelled, and, suddenly, it was over.  Jenny stood like a rock as the boar wildly flung his head and in terror bolted past her.  17        Past her…. 18        And now, since that summer, Jenny still hooks her chin over the old rail fence, and she still whispers, “Boar out there.”  But when she leans on the fence, looking into the trees, her eyes are full and she leaves wet patches on the splintery wood.  She is sorry for the torn ears of the boar and sorry that he has no golden horn. 19        But mostly she is sorry that he lives in fear of bluejays and little girls, when everyone in Glen Morgan lives in fear of him. “The boar was out beyond the splintery rail fence and past the old black Dodge that somehow had ended up in the woods and was missing most of its parts.”  This is an example of a compound sentence.

Boar Out There Short story by Cynthia Rylant   1          Everyone in Glen Morgan knew there was a wild boar in the woods over by the Miller farm.  The boar was out beyond the splintery rail fence and past the old black Dodge that somehow had ended up in the woods and was missing most of its parts. 2          Jenny would hook her chin over the top rail of the fence, twirl a long green blade of grass in her teeth and whisper, “Boar out there.” 3          And there were times she was sure she heard him.  She imagined him running heavily through the trees, ignoring the sharp thorns and briars that raked his back and sprang away trembling. 4          She thought he might have a golden horn on his terrible head.  The boar would run deep into the woods, then rise up on his rear hooves, throw his head toward the stars and cry a long, clear, sure note into the air.  The note would glide through the night and spear the heart of the moon.  The boar had no fear of the moon, Jenny knew, as she lay in bed, listening. 5          One hot summer day she went to find the boar.  No one in Glen Morgan had ever gone past the old black Dodge and beyond, as far as she knew.  But the boar was there somewhere, between those awful trees, and his dark green eyes waited for someone. 6          Jenny felt it was she. 7          Moving slowly over damp brown leaves, Jenny could sense her ears tingle and fan out as she listened for thick breathing from the trees.  She stopped to pick a teaberry leaf to chew, stood a minute, then went on. 8          Deep in the woods she kept her eyes to the sky.  She needed to be reminded that there was a world above and apart from the trees - a world of space and air, air that didn’t linger all about her, didn’t press deep into her skin, as forest air did. 9          Finally, leaning against a tree to rest, she heard him for the first time.  She forgot to breathe, standing there listening to the stamping of hooves, and she choked and coughed. 10        Coughed! 11        And now the pounding was horrible, too loud and confusing for Jenny.  Horrible.  She stood stiff with wet eyes and knew she could always pray, but for some reason didn’t. 12        He came through the trees so fast that she had no time to scream or run.  And he was there before her. 13        His large gray-black body shivered as he waited just beyond the shadow of the tree she held for support.  His nostrils glistened, and his eyes; but astonishingly, he was silent.  He shivered and glistened and was absolutely silent. 14        Jenny matched his silence, and her body was rigid, but not her eyes.  They traveled along his scarred, bristling back to his thick hind legs.  Tears spilling and flooding her face, Jenny stared at the boar’s ragged ears, caked with blood.  Her tears dropped to the leaves, and the only sound between them was his slow breathing. 15        Then the boar snorted and jerked.  But Jenny did not move. 16        High in the trees a bluejay yelled, and, suddenly, it was over.  Jenny stood like a rock as the boar wildly flung his head and in terror bolted past her.  17        Past her…. 18        And now, since that summer, Jenny still hooks her chin over the old rail fence, and she still whispers, “Boar out there.”  But when she leans on the fence, looking into the trees, her eyes are full and she leaves wet patches on the splintery wood.  She is sorry for the torn ears of the boar and sorry that he has no golden horn. 19        But mostly she is sorry that he lives in fear of bluejays and little girls, when everyone in Glen Morgan lives in fear of him. “When the blue jay yelled, and Jenny stood like a rock as the boar flung his head and bolted past her” is the ______________________ of the story?

Boar Out There Short story by Cynthia Rylant   1          Everyone in Glen Morgan knew there was a wild boar in the woods over by the Miller farm.  The boar was out beyond the splintery rail fence and past the old black Dodge that somehow had ended up in the woods and was missing most of its parts. 2          Jenny would hook her chin over the top rail of the fence, twirl a long green blade of grass in her teeth and whisper, “Boar out there.” 3          And there were times she was sure she heard him.  She imagined him running heavily through the trees, ignoring the sharp thorns and briars that raked his back and sprang away trembling. 4          She thought he might have a golden horn on his terrible head.  The boar would run deep into the woods, then rise up on his rear hooves, throw his head toward the stars and cry a long, clear, sure note into the air.  The note would glide through the night and spear the heart of the moon.  The boar had no fear of the moon, Jenny knew, as she lay in bed, listening. 5          One hot summer day she went to find the boar.  No one in Glen Morgan had ever gone past the old black Dodge and beyond, as far as she knew.  But the boar was there somewhere, between those awful trees, and his dark green eyes waited for someone. 6          Jenny felt it was she. 7          Moving slowly over damp brown leaves, Jenny could sense her ears tingle and fan out as she listened for thick breathing from the trees.  She stopped to pick a teaberry leaf to chew, stood a minute, then went on. 8          Deep in the woods she kept her eyes to the sky.  She needed to be reminded that there was a world above and apart from the trees - a world of space and air, air that didn’t linger all about her, didn’t press deep into her skin, as forest air did. 9          Finally, leaning against a tree to rest, she heard him for the first time.  She forgot to breathe, standing there listening to the stamping of hooves, and she choked and coughed. 10        Coughed! 11        And now the pounding was horrible, too loud and confusing for Jenny.  Horrible.  She stood stiff with wet eyes and knew she could always pray, but for some reason didn’t. 12        He came through the trees so fast that she had no time to scream or run.  And he was there before her. 13        His large gray-black body shivered as he waited just beyond the shadow of the tree she held for support.  His nostrils glistened, and his eyes; but astonishingly, he was silent.  He shivered and glistened and was absolutely silent. 14        Jenny matched his silence, and her body was rigid, but not her eyes.  They traveled along his scarred, bristling back to his thick hind legs.  Tears spilling and flooding her face, Jenny stared at the boar’s ragged ears, caked with blood.  Her tears dropped to the leaves, and the only sound between them was his slow breathing. 15        Then the boar snorted and jerked.  But Jenny did not move. 16        High in the trees a bluejay yelled, and, suddenly, it was over.  Jenny stood like a rock as the boar wildly flung his head and in terror bolted past her.  17        Past her…. 18        And now, since that summer, Jenny still hooks her chin over the old rail fence, and she still whispers, “Boar out there.”  But when she leans on the fence, looking into the trees, her eyes are full and she leaves wet patches on the splintery wood.  She is sorry for the torn ears of the boar and sorry that he has no golden horn. 19        But mostly she is sorry that he lives in fear of bluejays and little girls, when everyone in Glen Morgan lives in fear of him. At the end of the story, how did Jenny feel about the boar?    

LIKE BOOKENDS Poem by Eve Merriam Read the following poem and answer the question at the bottom.   LIKE BOOKENDS Poem by Eve Merriam             Like bookends             my father at one side             my mother at the other               propping me up 5          but unable to read             what I feel.               Were they born with clothes on?             Born with rules on?               When we sit at the dinner table 10         we smooth our napkins into polite folds.             How was your day dear                                  Fine             And how was your dear                                  Fine 15         And how was school                               The same               Only once in a while             when we’re not trying so hard             when we’re not trying at all 20        our napkins suddenly whirl away             and we float up to the ceiling             where we sing and dance until it hurts from laughing               and then we float down             with our napkin parachutes 25        and once again spoon our soup             and pass the bread please. The simile in this poem compares what two things?

Read the following poem and answer the question at the bottom.   LIKE BOOKENDS Poem by Eve Merriam             Like bookends             my father at one side             my mother at the other               propping me up 5          but unable to read             what I feel.               Were they born with clothes on?             Born with rules on?               When we sit at the dinner table 10         we smooth our napkins into polite folds.             How was your day dear                                  Fine             And how was your dear                                  Fine 15         And how was school                               The same               Only once in a while             when we’re not trying so hard             when we’re not trying at all 20        our napkins suddenly whirl away             and we float up to the ceiling             where we sing and dance until it hurts from laughing               and then we float down             with our napkin parachutes 25        and once again spoon our soup             and pass the bread please. Which is an example of a vivid verb?

Read the following poem and answer the question at the bottom.   LIKE BOOKENDS Poem by Eve Merriam             Like bookends             my father at one side             my mother at the other               propping me up 5          but unable to read             what I feel.               Were they born with clothes on?             Born with rules on?               When we sit at the dinner table 10         we smooth our napkins into polite folds.             How was your day dear                                  Fine             And how was your dear                                  Fine 15         And how was school                               The same               Only once in a while             when we’re not trying so hard             when we’re not trying at all 20        our napkins suddenly whirl away             and we float up to the ceiling             where we sing and dance until it hurts from laughing               and then we float down             with our napkin parachutes 25        and once again spoon our soup             and pass the bread please. Which is an example of a metaphor?

Read the following poem and answer the question at the bottom.   LIKE BOOKENDS Poem by Eve Merriam             Like bookends             my father at one side             my mother at the other               propping me up 5          but unable to read             what I feel.               Were they born with clothes on?             Born with rules on?               When we sit at the dinner table 10         we smooth our napkins into polite folds.             How was your day dear                                  Fine             And how was your dear                                  Fine 15         And how was school                               The same               Only once in a while             when we’re not trying so hard             when we’re not trying at all 20        our napkins suddenly whirl away             and we float up to the ceiling             where we sing and dance until it hurts from laughing               and then we float down             with our napkin parachutes 25        and once again spoon our soup             and pass the bread please. Which thematic topic best relates to this poem?

Read the following poem and answer the question at the bottom.   LIKE BOOKENDS Poem by Eve Merriam             Like bookends             my father at one side             my mother at the other               propping me up 5          but unable to read             what I feel.               Were they born with clothes on?             Born with rules on?               When we sit at the dinner table 10         we smooth our napkins into polite folds.             How was your day dear                                  Fine             And how was your dear                                  Fine 15         And how was school                               The same               Only once in a while             when we’re not trying so hard             when we’re not trying at all 20        our napkins suddenly whirl away             and we float up to the ceiling             where we sing and dance until it hurts from laughing               and then we float down             with our napkin parachutes 25        and once again spoon our soup             and pass the bread please. How would you correct the following sentence?: “How was your day, dear”?  

Read the following poem and answer the question at the bottom.   LIKE BOOKENDS Poem by Eve Merriam             Like bookends             my father at one side             my mother at the other               propping me up 5          but unable to read             what I feel.               Were they born with clothes on?             Born with rules on?               When we sit at the dinner table 10         we smooth our napkins into polite folds.             How was your day dear                                  Fine             And how was your dear                                  Fine 15         And how was school                               The same               Only once in a while             when we’re not trying so hard             when we’re not trying at all 20        our napkins suddenly whirl away             and we float up to the ceiling             where we sing and dance until it hurts from laughing               and then we float down             with our napkin parachutes 25        and once again spoon our soup             and pass the bread please. How would you correct the following sentence?: “The same,” I said.  

Identify which sentence is best written.

Identify which sentence is best written.

Identify which sentence is best written.

Identify which sentence is best written.

Identify which sentence is best written.

Identify which sentence is best written.