grades

	Review	Reading Club	Test	Grade
27090	4,5	4,5	4,5	4,5
37414	2	4,5	4	3,5
34842	4,5	4,5	4,5	4,5
26222	4	4,5	4,5	4,3
23625	4	4,5	4,6	4,4

Reading test - Alejandra Velásquez

2. Write four questions based on the story (Think about questions like the ones we used for discussion in our Reading Club meetings.)

3. Establish a relationship between the girl in the story The Flight of the Snowbird and one of the characters from the stories we read. (The Refugee Hotel, Haircut, And the toilet would not flush, The ones who walk away from Omala, Miss Brill, Prue, A beautiful child.)

2. -do you think that the boy didn´t really love his sister?  why?
    -why do you think the girl didn't talk at all?was she sick? what did she have?
    -what do think that is the relationship between the title and the content of the story?
    - how do you think that disabilities in a relative can affect the family relationship?

3. The girl- Marilyn (the beautiful child)

I think that Marilyn as the girl (sheryl) were treated and judged according to her phisical appearence, like if they were both destined to be and to do something specific in their lives but nothing else, when the truth is that Marilyn was dreamy, passioned and fragil in her inside but most important she was strong enough to overstep the boundaries that life puts in her way and so was Sheryl, trying to be as good as her brother with the skates, it turns out that she is really good at it; so I think that it is what the authors were trying to show us, that human beings are more than a physical appearence, a stereotypes and the abilities or disibalities that we have to do something.

1- What do you think is Sheryl problem? Why she can not speak?
2-How old you think is she?
3-Do you think he really hate them? Why he think he hate her?
4-What is the relationship between the title and the story?


In Haircut story Paul is seems by the other people like someone who does not feel or think and is always rejected and discriminated. In this story the boy has the same appreciation of her sister but in both stories they figured out than both Paul and Sheryl are more than they think and they finished given a lesson to otherones.

Test

Questions:

1). What do you think was the "problem" Sheryl had? Why did she have that emptiness in her eyes?

2). What is the relationship between the little bird and Sheryl?

3). Why do you think Benji run over her to help her, even when the thought of getting rid of her came to his mind?

4). If you had a sister like Sheryl and you had Benji's age, how would you treat her? Would you be like him?

Sheryl (The flight of the Snowbird) and Marilyn Monroe (A beautiful child):

I think Sheryl and Marilyn share this being fragile and strong at the same time, though in different ways, I mean Sheryl is so small and white like snow that she makes you think you cannot touch her otherwise you would hurt her, but she has this natural gracefulness she's not aware of and an emptiness and strneght in her sight that makes her invincible and very strong to her brother, I mean she can break him just gazing at him and the boy can feel her presence even if she's not there. Meanwhile, Marilyn shows a strenght in her looks that makes her look unbreakable to the people who do not know her like she really is, the people who consider her a sex symbol and watch admired-because of her beauty, the films she acts in, however those who know the real Marylin know that she's really sensible, that she can change her mood as quickly as the flutter of a bird and that she is not a sexy woman but a beutiful child with her chareacteristic girlish giggle and the chewing of her thumbnail. These two characters with really different lives and personalities and who are different ages have this compound of strenght and fragileness, one shows to be fragile but is strong and the other one shows to be strong but is fragile.

The Flight of the Snowbird - Test 1 - Angélica Riascos

1. Read the story: The Flight of the Snowbird

2. Write four questions based on the story (Think about questions like the ones we used for discussion in our Reading Club meetings.)

Preguntas

- What symbolizes the bird, for the boy, the second time he sees it?
- What thoughts do you think go by the boy's mind when seeing the girl cry?
- What do you think the girl thinks while staring blankly at his brother's friends?
- What do you think the mother thinks is the reason why her boy is so mean to his sister?

3. Establish a relationship between the girl in the story The Flight of the Snowbird and oneof the characters from the stories we read. (The Refugee Hotel, Haircut, And the toilet would not flush, The ones who walk away from Omala, Miss Brill, Prue, A beautiful child.)

I can find a relationship between the little boy in "The ones who walk away from Omala" because he and the girl are never heard. They think and feel but they can't express their pain. The kid used to say he was going to be good until one day he gave up. The girl can't say anything but at the end of the story we find that she is aware of what happens around her, really aware, and his brother is stunned that she can actually feel stuff and express it. In the story, the ones who walk away from Omala, this kid feels but with time he lost the strength to complain, to cry, he knows he is going to be left there to "almost die", but also knows he is going to be well taken care of so he doesn't escape and doesn't die. The girl for her part, never gives signs of pain because she has dissabilities and can't express them unless she is really scared, like at the end of the story, where she starts to recognize her brother. The two of them, seem to fragile for me, they seem to be in their own worlds barely recognizing the people who intercede on their behalf, but they are still alive and don't have anything else to do but confront their own realities. They are alone, because althought the girl has her family around her, she feels like part of the landscape. Both characters move me, because in the end we can't totally infer what is going to happen with the rest of their lives.

English test, Cristine Noguera

Questions

1. What is the relation you find between the title and the text?
2. Have you ever been in that boy's situation or attitude?
3. What is your impression of Sheryl? In your mind, what does she think of her brother?
4. What do you think the end means? Why did the boy walk faster?

Two Girls

I believe we can find a parallel between this ill girl, this story's protagonist sister and the glamorous blonde we are introduced to in ¨A beautiful child¨. As we see they both are something they don't seem to be at the beginning: With Sheryl, I first thought of her as just an awkward, sick little girl who was on the way of his brother all the time; with Marilyn, I got the first impression of a strong, confident, amusing woman who had it all and felt pretty sure about who she was. 

As both stories go on, they reveal themselves as something different: Marilyn, as this softened, insure, complex girl who just wanted to be loved and happy, and Sheryl, as a lovely little child that was a whole world inside of her and helps his brother discover some of his own worlds too as they interact. 

They end up being something similar the two of them. They end up as brilliant, misunderstood, fragile, beautiful and complex creatures that, as they find themselves, enlighten the world that surrounds them. 

Reading in English, test

1. Read the story: The Flight of the Snowbird

2. Write four questions based on the story (Think about questions like the ones we used for discussion in our Reading Club meetings.)

3. Establish a relationship between the girl in the story The Flight of the Snowbird and one of the characters from the stories we read. (The Refugee Hotel, Haircut, And the toilet would not flush, The ones who walk away from Omala, Miss Brill, Prue, A beautiful child.)

The Flight of the Snowbird

The snow was falling quickly now. It was beginning to form little piles in the corners of the wooden cross of the windowpane. The winter sky was pink-white and the bare trees in the front yard cast their weird shadows in the pale winter light.

Suddenly something flapped its way into the yard. It landed awkwardly in the snow and fell forward on its beak. The bird struggled to its feet and glanced around intently. It was small and white, about the size of a sparrow. The bird waddled clumsily, occasionally pecking at the ground.

The boy at the window watched the bird with his nose against the glass. He pressed his forehead against the pane and then watched as its vapor print disappeared. He did this three times and wondered if he would be able to get away from them tonight. The lawn chairs in the front yard were heavy with snow, and he longed to be outside to tip them over.

His mother called him and the bird flew off. The boy watched it fly gracefullyacross the moonlit sky and idly wondered to himself what kind of bird it was. He watched it until it was out of sight behind the barn and then resumed his drawings on the window.

His mother called again sharply, and he began to walk slowly through the hall into the kitchen. He stepped into the warmly heated sun porch and waited. Without looking up from the table his mother said, “Go wash your hands in the kitchen.” The boy frowned but went into the kitchen and swished his hands through the cold water. Waving them dry, he walked back to the sun porch.

While his mother said grace, he drew designs on the worn oilcloth with his fingernail. He picked up his spoon and dipped it into the steaming chicken noodle soup.

“Don’t lean on the table, son.” His mother said softly. The boy frowned, but took his elbows off the table. Crumbling a cracker into his soup, he forced his eyes over to where his sister was sitting. Her eyes were already fastened on his face. Could she read his mind? Sometimes it seemed to him that she saw right through him.

A wet noodle was pasted against her chin and he looked away in disgust as his mother helped the noodle back into her mouth and tried to get her to start eating again.

He finished eating his soup, and drank his milk in one gulp.

“Can I go now?” His mother looked up puzzled, “Where?” The boy frowned at her impatiently as if she should know.

“I thought I’d go out to the pond and try my new skates.”

His mother glanced over to where his sister sat and said softly,

“Wait a few more minutes, and you can take her with you.”

The boy pushed the chair violently and said loudly, “I’m going by myself. I won’t take her.”

“Please, Benjy, you never give her a chance. You know how she loves to skate.  Just because she can’t tell you, you think you can just ignore her.  Please let her go with you this time.”

The boy was watching the curious floating noodles in his soup bowl. He mumbled something. His mother looked up. “What did you say?”

“I said, I don’t ignore her. She always stares at me. I’m not taking her.”

A strand of gray hair fell across his mother’s pale cheek, and she said tiredly, “Her skates are in the hall closet.”

The boy stared at both of them with hate and then burst out, “I won’t take her!”

He ran to the closet and grabbed his coat, mittens, and cap. Slamming the door behind him, he ran to the shed and opened the creaky door. He looked over to where his skates hung. There bluish blades were glittering in the pale blue light. He pulled them off the peg and felt their sharp blades against his palm. Touching the soft black leather and silver eyelets, he slung them across his shoulder and ran into the yard. The lawn chairs were still waiting, and he went over to them and tipped each one over. He smiled and ran across the field.

The skates thumped carelessly against his back, and he looked around the pasture. The pale winter light gave everything and unnatural glow and made the tree and bushes stand out darkly against the snow.

The snow was still falling but more lightly now, and he let it tickle his nose until his eyes began to water; then he scratched at his nose furiously. The snow beneath his feet was soft, and his shoes squeaked crisply.

At the end of the pasture, the pond gleamed brightly, like an open eye. He sat down on a snow-covered hayrack and put it on his skates. Tying the shoelaces of his other shoes, he slung them across his shoulder and walked at the edge of the pond. He stood there and shivered deliciously.

Something tugged at his coat, and his stomach jumped. He looked down to see his sister. Her coat was buttoned up crookedly, and her muffler was tied loosely. He saw that her nose was running.

He reached into his pocket and got out a wadded-up Kleenex and wiped her nose viciously. Taking her hand, he pulled her roughly over to the rack. As he sat her down he considered sending her back, but he knew he would get into trouble if he did. He laced her skates too tight and looked to see if there was any change in her face, but there was none… nothing at all. Even when the laces bit into her skin, she sat looking at him, her eyes boring quietly through him.

“Why couldn’t she have had a good baby instead of you?” He looked at her as if she were something loathsome, and hated himself for hating her. She was nothing to him but a barrier between him and his mother. At times he found he couldn’t even remember her name. But then, perhaps, he made himself forget. He finished lacing her skates and then walked away from her.

There was a slight breeze now, and it cut through his corduroy pants. He slid out onto to the pond and began to skate. His ankles ached pleasantly, and he could feel his sharp blades hiss and scrape on the ice below the snow. The cold was numbing; it bit into his face and ears, making them tingle.

Skating backward, he could see her approaching from behind. He watched her skate toward him with a gracefulness he knew he would never have. She was a good skater, he admitted. But did she really know what she was doing? Was skating just something that came naturally to her?

She wasn’t well coordinated with her fingers, but she could skate better than anyone he knew. Maybe it was her smallness and frailness that made her so detestable to him. So pale and white.

He watched her slide across the pond like a piece of chipped ice. Then he turned around and skated forward. He stopped to sniff his nose and felt a gentle tug at his coat. He shook her loose and went the other way.

He used to have his friends over, but she would stand behind the kitchen door and stare at them until they stopped coming. She made them feel uneasy.

She could tell if he was happy, and if he was, she would pad along behind him and hang onto his shirttail. But always there were the eyes following him around-empty eyes boring through his back when he wasn’t looking.

He looked around her and couldn’t see her. He skated to the middle of the pond and looked around. Then he saw her over on the part of the pond that was off limits to them. There was no sign, but he knew it was thin ice.

For a moment he stood motionless. It would be so easy. So easy to tell his mother he hadn’t even known she was there…so easy to see the look of age and weariness disappear from her lined face…no more kind and patient words from his sister’s bedroom, no more look of defeat on his mother’s face when his sister wouldn’t learn to tie her own shoes. There would be no more tears from his mother.

He watched as his sister slid farther and farther away. Suddenly he saw something out of the corner of his eye. It was the small, awkward bird that flew so beautifully. It was flying slowly across the pond, but when the boy looked at it directly, it disappeared; but he knew it was there. He had seen it.

His legs began to pump forward, and his skates dug frantically at the ice. He couldn’t see her now, and his legs were burning with impatience. He couldn’t seem to move fast enough, and tears were beginning to stream from his eyes. She was visible to him now. He watched as she skated onto the thin part. Then he heard the loud crack, and he felt the ice tremble and shake as the ice broke and she fell into the frozen lake. He reached in and clung tight as the icy water numbed his fingers. Pulling as hard as he could, he saw her head appear. The coat slipped from his fingers, and he lost her. Desperately he thrust his arms into the water and searched franticly for her. He felt her coat in his hands again, and this time he heaved her out onto the ice.

For what seemed a long time, he watched her blue face as he prayed to Jesus for her eyes to open. His stomach jerked convulsively when her eyes opened. She began to shiver, and he quickly took off her frozen clothes, put her on his warm coat, and wrapped it around her small body. He was vaguely aware of his freezing arms and hands as he took off his skating socks and put them on her feet. The biting cold cut into his feet, and he tried but couldn’t unlace his other shoe. He slipped them on as best as he could. Picking her up, he started to walk to the edge of the pond. Her body was very still in his arms, and he noticed that her lips were bleeding. He took the tissue from his pocket and wiped the blood away. Looking down at her face, he searched for something in her eyes, but still there was nothing…no pain, no accusation, nothing…except tears. Never before had he seen her cry. Even when his mother would cry her heart out in front of his sister, she would sit and stare unknowingly. Now that the tears began to form and roll down her cheeks, the boy finally remembered her name. It was Sheryl. She struggled closer to the warmth of his body, and unconsciously he hugged her closer to him. Looking at her, he softly said her name. At last he saw something more than emptiness. He saw that she began to recognize him. He began to walk faster.

By Jean Lively