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leap, and she was on dry land. She stepped over spongy leaves and moss, into the woods where the sparrows sang nesting songs in delicate relays. “Where are you?” Nokomis yelled again. “I found the tree!” “I’m coming,” Omakayas called back to her grandmother. It was spring, time to cut Birchbark. APPENDIX B 86 > OREGON COMMON CORE STATE STANDARDS FOR English Language Arts > & Literacy in History/Social Studies, Science, and Technical Subjects Curtis, Christopher Paul. Bud, Not Buddy . New York: Delacorte Books for Young Readers, 1999. (1999)(Also listed as a read-aloud story for grades 2 –3) From Chapter 1 Here we go again. We were all standing in line waiting for breakfast when one of the caseworkers came in and tap-tap-tap ped down the line. Uh-oh, this meant bad news, either they’d found a foster home for somebody or somebody was about to get paddled. All the kids watched the woman as she moved along the line, her high-heeled shoes sounding like little fire-crackers going off on the wooden floor. Shoot! She stopped at me and said, “Are you Buddy Caldwell?” I said, “It’s Bud, not Buddy, ma’am.” She put her hand on my shoulder and took me out of the line. Then she pulled Jerry, one of the littler boys, over. “Aren’t you Jerry Clark?” He nodded. “Boys, good news! Now that the school year has ended, you both have been accepted in new temporary-ca re homes starting this afternoon!” Jerry asked the same thing I was thinking, “Together?” She said, “Why no, Jerry, you’ll by in a family with three little girls…” Jerry looked like he’d just found out they were going to dip him in a pot of boiling milk. “…and Bud…” She looked at some papers she was holding. “Oh, yes, the Amoses,
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you’ll be with Mr. and Mrs. Amos and their son, who’s twelve years old, that makes him just two years older than you, doesn’t it, Bud?” “Yes, ma’am.” She said, “I’m sure you’ll both be very happy.” Me and Jerry looked at each other. The woman said, “Now, now, boys, no need to look so glum, I know you don’t understand what it means, but there’s a depression going on all over this country. People can’t find jobs and these are very, ve ry difficult times for everybody. We’ve been lucky enough to find two wonderful families who’ve opened their doors for you. I think it’s best that we show our new foster families that we’re very…” She dragged out the word very, waiting for us to finish her sentence for her. Jerry said, “Cheerful, helpful and grateful.” I moved my lips and mumbled. Lin, Grace. Where the Mountain Meets the Moon . New York: Little, Brown, 2009. (2009) From Chapter 1 Far away from here, following the Jade River, there was once a black mountain that cut into the sky like a jagged piece of rough metal. The villagers called it Fruitless Mountain because nothing grew on it and birds and animals did not rest there. Crowded in the corner of where Fruitless Mountain and the Jade River met was a village that was a shade of faded brown. This was because the land around the village was hard and poor. To coax rice out of the stubborn land, the field had to be flooded with water. The villagers had to tramp in the mud, APPENDIX B 87 > OREGON COMMON CORE STATE STANDARDS FOR English Language Arts > & Literacy in History/Social Studies, Science, and Technical Subjects bending and stooping and planting day after day. Working in the
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mud so much made it spread everywhere and the hot sun dried it onto their clothes and hair and homes. Over time, everything in the village had become the dull color of dried mud. One of the houses in this village was so small that its wood boards, held together by the roof, made one think of a bunch of matches tied with a piece of twine. Inside, there was barely enough room for three people to sit around the table —which was lucky because only three people lived there. One of them was a young girl called Minli. Minli was not brown and dull like the rest of the village. She had glossy black hair with pink cheeks, shining eyes always eager for adventure, and a fast smile that flashed from her face. When people saw her lively and impulsive spirit, they thought her name, which meant quick thinking , suited her well. “Too well,” her mother sighed, as Minli had a habit of quick acting as well. # Poetry Blake, William. “The Echoing Green.” Songs of Innocence . New York: Dover, 1971. (1789) The sun does arise, And make happy the skies; The merry bells ring To welcome the Spring; The skylark and thrush, The birds of the bush, Sing louder around To the bells’ cheerful sound; While our sports shall be seen On the echoing green. Old John, with white hair, Does laugh away care, Sitting under the oak, Among the old folk. They laugh at our play, And soon they all say, ‘Such, such were the joys When we all —girls and boys — In our youth-time were seen On the echoing green.’ Till the little ones, weary, No more can be merry: The sun does descend, And our sports have an end. Round the laps
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of their mothers Many sisters and brothers, APPENDIX B 88 > OREGON COMMON CORE STATE STANDARDS FOR English Language Arts > & Literacy in History/Social Studies, Science, and Technical Subjects Like birds in their nest, Are ready for rest, And sport no more seen On the darkening green. Lazarus, Emma . “The New Colossus.” Favorite Poems Old and New . Edited by Helen Ferris. New York: Doubleday, 1957. (1883) Not like the brazen giant of Greek fame With conquering limbs astride from land to land; Here at our sea-washed, sunset gates shall stand A mighty woman with a torch, whose flameIs the imprisoned lightning, and her name Mother of Exiles. From her beacon-hand Glows world-wide welcome; her mild eyes command The air-bridged harbor that twin cities frame. “Keep, ancient lands, your storied pomp!” cries she With silent lips. “Give me your tired, your poor, Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free, The wretched refuse of your teeming shore. Send these, the homeless, tempest-tossed to me, I lift my lamp beside the golden door!” Media Text Photos, multi media, and a virtual tour of the Statue of Liberty, hosted on the National Parks Service’s Web site: Thayer, Ernest Lawrence. “Casey at the Bat.” Favorite Poems Old and New . Edited by Helen Ferris. New York: Doubleday, 1957. (1888) The outlook wasn’t brilliant for the Mudville nine that day; The score stood four to two with but one inning more to play. And then when Cooney died at first, and Barrows did the same, A sickly silence fell upon the patrons of the game. A straggling few got up to go in deep despair. The rest Clung to that hope which springs eternal in the human breast; They thought if only Casey could but get a whack at that – We’d
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put up even money now with Casey at the bat. But Flynn preceded Casey, as did also Jimmy Blake, And the former was a lulu and the latter was a cake; So upon that stricken multitude grim melancholy sat, For there seemed but little chance of Casey ’s getting to the bat. APPENDIX B 89 > OREGON COMMON CORE STATE STANDARDS FOR English Language Arts > & Literacy in History/Social Studies, Science, and Technical Subjects But Flynn let drive a single, to the wonderment of all, And Blake, the much despis-ed, tore the cover off the ball; And when the dust had lifted, and the men saw what had occurred, There was Johnnie safe at second and Flynn a-hugging third. Then from 5,000 throats and more there rose a lusty yell; It rumbled through the valley, it rattled in the dell; It knocked upon the mountain and recoiled upon the flat, For Casey, mighty Casey, was advancing to the bat. There was ease in Casey’s manner as he stepped into his place; There was pride in Casey’s bearing and a smile on Casey’s face. And when, responding to the cheers, he lightly doffed his hat, No stranger in the crowd could doubt ‘twas Casey at the bat. Ten thousand eyes were on him as he rubbed his hands with dirt; Five thousand tongues applauded when he wiped them on his shirt. Then while the writhing pitcher ground the ball into his hip, Defiance flashed in Casey’s eye, a sneer curled Casey’s lip. And now the leather-covered sphere came hurtling through the air, And Casey stood a-watching it in haughty grandeur there. Close by the sturdy batsman the ball unheeded sped – “That ain’t my style,” said Casey. “Strike one,” the umpire said. From the benches, black with people, there went
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up a muffled roar, Like the beating of the storm-waves on a stern and distant shore. “Kill him! Kill the umpire!” shouted some one on the stand; And it’s likely they’d have killed him had not Casey raised his hand. With a smile of Chr istian charity great Casey’s visage shone; He stilled the rising tumult; he bade the game go on; He signaled to the pitcher, and once more the sphereoid flew; But Casey still ignored it, and the umpire said, “Strike two.” “Fraud!” cried the maddened th ousands, and echo answered fraud; But one scornful look from Casey and the audience was awed. They saw his face grow stern and cold, they saw his muscles strain, And they knew that Casey wouldn’t let that ball go by again. The sneer is gone from Casey’ s lip, his teeth are clenched in hate; He pounds with cruel violence his bat upon the plate. And now the pitcher holds the ball, and now he lets it go, And now the air is shattered by the force of Casey’s blow. Oh, somewhere in this favored land the sun is shining bright; The band is playing somewhere, and somewhere hearts are light, APPENDIX B 90 > OREGON COMMON CORE STATE STANDARDS FOR English Language Arts > & Literacy in History/Social Studies, Science, and Technical Subjects And somewhere men are laughing, and somewhere children shout; But there is no joy in Mudville –mighty Casey has struck out. Dickinson, Emily. “A Bird Came Down the Walk.” The Complete Poems of Emily Dickinson . Boston: Little, Brown, 1960. (1893) A Bird came down the walk — He did not know I saw; He bit an angleworm in halves And ate the fellow, raw. And then he drank a dew From a convenient grass, And then
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hopped sidewise to the wall To let a beetle pass. He glanced with rapid eyes That hurried all abroad — They looked like frightened beads, I thought — He stirred his velvet head — Like one in danger; cautious, I offered him a crumb, And he unrolled his feathers And rowed him softer home Than oars divide the ocean, Too silver for a seam, Or butterflies, off banks of noon, Leap, plashless, as they swim. Sandburg, Carl. “Fog.” Chicago Poems . New York: Henry Holt, 1916. (1916) The fog comes on little cat feet. It sits looking over harbor and city on silent haunches and then moves on. APPENDIX B 91 > OREGON COMMON CORE STATE STANDARDS FOR English Language Arts > & Literacy in History/Social Studies, Science, and Technical Subjects Frost, Robert. “Dust of Snow.” The Poetry of Robert Frost: The Collected Poems, Complete and Unabridged . New York: Henry Holt, 1969. (1923) Dahl, Roald. “Little Red Riding Hood and the Wolf.” Roald Dahl’s Revolting Rhymes . New York: Knopf, 2002. (1982) Nichols, Grace. “They Were My People.” Come On Into My Tropical Garden . New York: HarperCollins, 1990. (1988) Mora, Pat. “Words Free As Confetti.” Confetti: Poems for Children. Illustrated by Enrique O. Sanchez. New York: Lee and Low, 1999. (1996) Come, words, come in your every color. I’ll toss you in storm or breeze. I’ll say, say, say you, Taste you sweet as plump plums, bitter as old lemons, I’ll sniff you, words, warm as almonds or tart as apple-red, feel you green and soft as new grass, lightweight as dandelion plumes, or thorngray as cactus, heavy as black cement, cold blue as icicles, warm as abuelita ’s yellowlap. I’ll hear you, words, loud as searoar’s Purple crash, hushed as gatitos curled in sleep, as the last
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goldlullaby. I’ll see you long and dark as tunnels, bright as rainbows, playful as chestnutwind. I’ll watch you, words, rise and dance and spin. I’ll say, say, say you in English, in Spanish, I’ll find you. Hold you. Toss you. I’m free too. I say yo soy libre , I am free free, free, free as confetti. APPENDIX B 92 > OREGON COMMON CORE STATE STANDARDS FOR English Language Arts > & Literacy in History/Social Studies, Science, and Technical Subjects Words Free As Confetti from the book Confetti, Poems For Children text copyright © 1996 by Pat Mora. Permission arranged with Lee & Low Books Inc, New York, NY 10016. # Sample Performance Tasks for Stories and Poetry Students make connections between the visual presentation of John Tenniel’s illustrations in Lewis Carroll’s Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland and the text of the story to identify how the pictures of Alice reflect specific descriptions of her in the text . [RL.4.7] Students explain the selfish behavior by Mary and make inferences regarding the impact of the cholera outbreak in Frances Hodgson Burnett’s The Secret Garden by explicitly referring to details and examples from the text . [RL.4.1] Students describe how the narrator’s point of view in Walter Farley’s The Black Stallion influences how events are described and how the reader perceives the character of Alexander Ramsay, Jr. [RL.5.6] Students summarize the plot of Antoine de Saint-Exupéry’s The Little Prince and then reflect on the challenges facing the characters in the story while employing those and other details in the text to discuss the value of inquisitiveness and exploration as a theme of the story . [RL.5.2] Students read Natalie Babbitt’s Tuck Everlasting and describe in depth the idyllic setting of the story , drawing on specific details in the text , from
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the color of the sky to the sounds of the pond, to describe the scene. [RL.4.3] Students compare and contrast coming-of-age stories by Christopher Paul Curtis (Bud, Not Buddy) and Louise Erdrich (The Birchbark House) by identifying similar themes and examining the stories’ approach to the topic of growing up. [RL.5.9] Students refer to the structural elements (e.g., verse, rhythm, meter) of Ernest Lawrence Thayer’s “Casey at the Bat” when analyzing the poem and contrasting the impact and differences of those elements to a prose summary of the poem . [RL.4.5] Students determine the meaning of the metaphor of a cat in Carl Sandburg’s poem “Fog” and contrast that figurative language to the meaning of the simile in William Blake’s “The Echoing Green.” [RL.5.4] # Informational Texts Berger, Melvin. Discovering Mars: The Amazing Story of the Red Planet . New York: Scholastic, 1992. (1992) Mars is very cold and very dry. Scattered across the surface are many giant volcanoes. Lava covers much of the land. In Mars’ northern half, or hemisphere, is a huge raised area. It is about 2,500 miles wide. Astronomers call this the Great Tharsis Bulge. APPENDIX B 93 > OREGON COMMON CORE STATE STANDARDS FOR English Language Arts > & Literacy in History/Social Studies, Science, and Technical Subjects There are four mammoth volcanoes on the Great Tharsis Bulge. The largest one is Mount Olympus, or Olympus Mons. It is the biggest mountain on Mars. Some think it may be the largest mountain in the entire solar system. Mo unt Olympus is 15 miles high. At its peak is a 50 mile wide basin. Its base is 375 miles across. That’s nearly as big as the state of Texas! Mauna Loa, in Hawaii, is the largest volcano on earth. Yet, compared to Mount Olympus, Mauna Loa looks
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like a little hill. The Hawaiian volcano is only 5½ miles high. Its base, on the bottom of the Pacific Ocean, is just 124 miles wide. Each of the three other volcanoes in the Great Tharsis Bulge are over 10 miles high. They are named Arsia Mons, Pavonis Mons, and Ascraeus Mons. Media Text NASA’s illustrated fact sheet on Mars: Carlisle, Madelyn Wood. Let’s Investigate Marvelously Meaningful Maps . Hauppauge, New York: Barrons, 1992. (1992) Lauber, Patricia. Hurricanes: Earth’s Mightiest Storms . New York: Scholastic, 1996. (1996) From “The Making of a Hurricane” Great whirling storms roar out of the oceans in many parts of the world. They are called by several names —hurricane, typhoon, and cyclone are the three most familiar ones. But no matter what they are called, they are all the same sort of storm. They are born in the same way, in tropical waters. They develop the same way, feeding on warm, moist air. And they do the same kind of damage, both ashore and at sea. Other storms may cover a bigger area or have higher winds, but none can match both the size and the fury of hurricanes. They are earth’s mightiest storms. Like all storms, they take place in the atmosphere, the envelope of air that surrounds the earth and presses on its surface. The pressure at any one place is always changing. There are days when air is sinking and the atmosphere presses harder on the surface. These are the times of high pressure. There are days when a lot of air is rising and the atmosphere does not press down as hard. These are times of low pressure. Low-pressure areas over warm oceans give birth to hurricanes. From: HURRICANES: EARTH’S MIGHTIEST STORMS by Patricia Lauber. Copyright © 1996 by Patricia
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Lauber. Used by permission of Scholastic, Inc. Otfinoski, Steve. The Kid’s Guide to Money: Earning It, Saving It, Spending It, Growing It, Sharing It .New York: Scholastic, 1996. (1996) APPENDIX B 94 > OREGON COMMON CORE STATE STANDARDS FOR English Language Arts > & Literacy in History/Social Studies, Science, and Technical Subjects Wulffson, Don. Toys!: Amazing Stories Behind Some Great Inventions . New York: Henry Holt, 2000. (2000) Schleichert, Elizabeth. “Good Pet, Bad Pet.” Ranger Rick June 2002. (2002) Kavash, E. Barrie. “Ancient Mound Builders.” Cobblestone October 2003. (2003) Koscielniak, Bruce. About Time: A First Look at Time and Clocks . Orlando: Houghton Mifflin, 2004. (2004) Sometime around 1440, the spring-powered clock was invented. Instead of depending on the pull of weights for power, this type of clock used a flat metal spring wound tightly into a coil. The escapement allowed the spring to unwind by turning one gear tooth at a time. With the use of a spring, smaller, truly portable clocks could be made. The first well-known watches, made in Germany around 1510 by Peter Henlein, were so named because guards or “watchmen” carried small clocks to keep track of how long to stay at a particular duty post. Many different skills went into making a clock, and new tools and methods were constantly being invented to make ever smaller, more complicated mechanisms that worked with greater precision. Founders melted and poured metal into a mold to make clock parts. Spring makers hand-forged (heated and pounded into shape) and polished steel clock springs. Screw makers cut screws used to fasten clocks together by using a small lathe devised by a German clockmaker in 1480. Earlier, only wedges or pegs were used. Gear-tooth cutting had been done by hand until the mid-1500s, when Giannelo Torriano of Cremona, Italy, invented
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a machine that could cut perfect gear teeth. Brass replaced iron for clock making. Engravers, gilders, and enamellers decorated clock cases and dials. Glass-making shops made and cut glass. Woodworkers made clock cases. Excerpt from ABOUT TIME: A First Look at Time and Clocks by Bruce Koscielniak. Copyright © 2004 by Bruce Koscielniak. Used by permission of Houghton Mifflin Harcourt Publishing Company. All rights reserved. Banting, Erinn. England the Land . New York: Crabtree, 2004. (2004) From “Living Fences” Low fences, some of which are th ousands of years old, divide much of England’s countryside. These fences, called hedgerows, were fist build by the Anglo-Saxons, a group of warriors from Germany and APPENDIX B 95 > OREGON COMMON CORE STATE STANDARDS FOR English Language Arts > & Literacy in History/Social Studies, Science, and Technical Subjects Scandinavia who arrived in England around 410 A.D. As they gained control of sections of land, they protected their property with walls made from wooden stakes and spiny plants. Dead hedgerows, as these fences were called, were eventually replaced by fences made from live bushes and trees. Recently, people building large farms and homes in the countryside have destroyed many live hedgerows. Other people are working to save the hedgerows, which are home to a variety of wildlife, including birds, butterflies, hedgehogs, and hares. Hakim, Joy. A History of US . Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2005. (2005) From Book 1: The First Americans, Prehistory to 1600; Chapter 7: “The Show -Offs” In case you forgot, you’re still in that time -and-space capsule, but you’re not a baby anymore. You’re 10 years old and able to work the controls yourself. So get going; we want to head northwest, to the very edge of the land, to the region that will be the states of Washington and
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Oregon. The time? We were in the 13 th century; let’s try the 14 th century for this visit. Life is easy for the Indians here in the Northwest near the great ocean. They are affluent (AF-flew-ent – it means “wealthy”) Americans. For them the world is bountiful: the rivers hold salmon and sturgeon; the ocean is full of seals, whales, fish, and shellfish; the woods are swarming with game animals. And there are berries and nuts and wild roots to be gathered. They are not farmers. They don’t need to farm. Those Americans go to sea in giant canoes; some are 60 feet long. (How long is your bedroom? Your schoolroom?) Using stone tools and fire, Indians of the Northwest cut down gigantic fir trees and hollow out the logs to make their boats. The trees tower 200 feet and are 10 feet across at the base. There are so many of them, so close together, with a tangle of undergrowth, that it is sometimes hard for hunters to get through the forest. Tall as these trees are, they are not as big as the redwoods that grow in a vast forest to the south (in the land that will become California). Media Text “American Indians of the Pacific Northwest Collection,” a dig ital archive of images and documents hosted by the University of Washington: Ruurs, Margriet. My Librarian Is a Camel: How Books Are Brought to Children Around the World .Honesdale, Penn.: Boyds Mills Press, 2005. (2005) From “Peru” Children in Peru can receive their books in several different, innovative ways. CEDILI-IBBY Peru is an institution that delivers books in bags to families in Lima. Each bag contains twenty books, which families can keep for a month. The books come in four different reading levels so that
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children really learn how to read. This project in Spanish is called El Libro Compartido en Familia and enables parents to share the joy of books with their children. APPENDIX B 96 > OREGON COMMON CORE STATE STANDARDS FOR English Language Arts > & Literacy in History/Social Studies, Science, and Technical Subjects In small, rural communities, books are delivered in wooden suitcases and plastic bags. These suitcases and bags contain books that the community can keep and share for the next three months. The number of books in each suitcase depends on the size of the community. There are no library buildings in these small towns, and people gather outside, in the plaza, to see books they can check out. In the coastal regions, books are sometimes delivered by donkey cart. The books are stored in the reading promoter’s home. In the ancient city of Cajamarca, reading promoters from various rural areas select and receive a large collection of books for their area. The program is called Aspaderuc . The reading promoter lends these books to his or her neighbors, and after three months, a new selection of books goes out to each area. Books in this system are for children and adults. And last but not least, Fe Y Alegria brings a collection of children’s books to rural schools. The books are brought from school to school by wagon. The children, who are excited about browsing through the books when they arrive, are turning into avid readers. Simon, Seymour. Horses . New York: HarperCollins, 2006. (2006) Horses move in four natural ways, called gaits or paces. They walk, trot, canter, and gallop. The walk is the slowest gait and the gallop is the fastest. When a horse walks, each hoof leaves the ground at a different time. It moves
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one hind leg first, and then the front leg on the same side; then the other hind leg and the other front leg. When a horse walks, its body swings gently with each stride. When a horse trots, its legs move in pairs, left front leg with right hind leg, and right front leg with left hind leg. When a horse canters, the hind legs and one front leg move together, and then the hind legs and the other foreleg move together. The gallop is like a much faster walk, where each hoof hits the ground one after another. When a horse gallops, all four of its hooves may be flying off the ground at the same time. Horses are usually described by their coat colors and by the white markings on their faces, bodies, legs, and hooves. Brown horses range in color from dark brown bays and chestnuts to golden browns, such as palominos, and lighter browns such as roans and duns. Partly colored horses are called pintos or paints. Colorless, pure-white horses —albinos —are rare. Most horses that look white are actually gray. Skewbalds have brown-and-white patches. Piebalds have black and white patches. Spotteds have dark spots on a white coat or white spots on a dark coat. Used by permission of HarperCollins Publishers. APPENDIX B 97 > OREGON COMMON CORE STATE STANDARDS FOR English Language Arts > & Literacy in History/Social Studies, Science, and Technical Subjects Montgomery, Sy. Quest for the Tree Kangaroo: An Expedition to the Cloud Forest of New Guinea .Orlando: Houghton Mifflin, 2006. (2006) From “Marsupial Mania” Stuart Little, the small mouse with big parents, had nothing on baby marsupials. Marsupials (“mar -SOUP-ee-ulz”) are special kinds of mammals. Even the biggest ones give birth to babies that are incredibly small. A two-hundred-pound six-foot mother
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kangaroo, for instance, gives birth to a baby as small as a lima bean. That’s what makes marsupials marsupials. Their babies are born so tiny that in order to survive they must live in a pouch on the mother’s tummy. The pouch is called a marsupium. (Don’t you wish you had one?) A baby marsupial lives hidden in the mother’s warm moist pouch for months. There it sucks milk from a nipple like other baby mammals. One day it’s big enough to poke its head out to see the world. The European explorers who saw kangaroos for the first time in Australia reported they had discovered a two-headed animal —with one head on the neck and another in the belly. North America has only one marsupial. You may have seen it: The Virginia opossum actually lives in most of the United States, not just Virginia. South America also has marsupials. But most marsupials live in or near Australia. They include the koala (which is not a bear), two species of wombat, the toothy black Tasmania devil, four species of black and white spo tted “native cats” (though they’re not cats at all), and many others. The most famous marsupials, however, are the kangaroos. All kangaroos hop —some of them six feet high and faster than forty miles an hour. More than fifty different species of kangaroo hop around on the ground —from the big red kangaroo to the musky rat kangaroo. Excerpt from QUEST FOR THE TREE KANGAROO: An Expedition to the Cloud Forest of New Guinea by Sy Montgomery. Text Copyright © 2006 by Sy Montgomery. Used by Permission of Houghton Mifflin Harcourt Publishing Company. All rights reserved. Simon, Seymour. Volcanoes . New York: HarperCollins, 2006. (2006) In early times, no one knew how volcanoes formed or why they
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spouted red-hot molten rock. In modern times, scientists began to st udy volcanoes. They still don’t know all the answers, but they know much about how a volcano works. Our planet is made up of many layers of rock. The top layers of solid rock are called the crust. Deep beneath the crust is the mantle, where it is so hot that some rock melts. The melted, or molten, rock is called magma. Volcanoes are formed when magma pushes its way up through the crack in Earth’s crust. This is called a volcanic eruption. When magma pours forth on the surface, it is called lava. Text Copyright © 1998 by Seymour Simon. Used by permission of HarperCollins Publishers. APPENDIX B 98 > OREGON COMMON CORE STATE STANDARDS FOR English Language Arts > & Literacy in History/Social Studies, Science, and Technical Subjects Nelson, Kadir. We Are the Ship: The Story of Negro League Baseball . New York: Jump at the Sun, 2008. (2008) From “4th Inning: Racket Ball: Negro League Owners” Most of the o wners didn’t make much money from their teams. Baseball was just a hobby for them, a way to make their illegal money look good. To save money, each team would only carry fifteen or sixteen players. The major league teams each carried about twenty-five. Average salary for each player started at roughly $125 per month back in ‘34, and went up to $500 -$800 during the forties, though there were some who made much more than that, like Satchel Paige and Josh Gibson. The average major league player’s salary back t hen was $7,000 per month. We also got around fifty cents to a dollar per day for food allowance. Back then you could get a decent meal for about twenty-five cents to seventy-five cents. Some
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of the owners didn’t treat their players very well. Didn’t pay them enough or on time. That’s why we would jump from team to team. Other owners would offer us more money, and we would leave our teams and go play for them. We were some of the first unrestricted free agents. There were, however, a few owners who did know how to treat their ballplayers. Cum Posey was one of them. He always took care of his ballplayers, put them in the best hotels, and paid them well and on time. Buck Leonard said Posey never missed a payday in the seventeen years he played for the Grays. Cutler, Nellie Gonzalez. “Kenya’s Long Dry Season.” Time for Kids September 25, 2009. (2009) Hall, Leslie. “Seeing Eye to Eye.” National Geographic Explorer September 2009. (2009) A hungry falcon soars high above Earth. Its sharp eyes scan the ground. Suddenly, it spies something moving in the grass. The falcon dives toward it. Far below, a gray field mouse scurries through the grass. Its dark, beady eyes search constantly for danger. With eyes on either side of its head, the mouse can see almost everything around it. Will the mouse see the falcon in time to escape? Or, will the speedy falcon catch the prey it spied from far above? Whatever happens, one thing is clear: Without eyes, neither animal has a good chance. Why? Eyes help many animals make sense of the world around them - and survive. Eyes can guide the falcon to dinner or help the mouse see a perfect place to hide. Animal eyes come in many different shapes, sizes, colors, and even numbers. Yet they do the same job. They all catch light. With help from the brain, eyes turn light into sight. Eyes work in the
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same way for people. Look at this page. You may think you see words and pictures. Believe it or not, you don't. All you see is light bouncing off the page. How is this possible? The secret is in the rules of light. Light Rules APPENDIX B 99 > OREGON COMMON CORE STATE STANDARDS FOR English Language Arts > & Literacy in History/Social Studies, Science, and Technical Subjects Light is a form of energy, like heat or sound. It can come from a natural source, like the sun, or artificial sources, like a lamp or a flashlight. Light is the fastest known thing. It travels in waves and in nearly straight lines. In air, it can speed 299,700 kilometers (186,200 miles) per second. It can race from the sun to Earth in just over eight minutes! Light doesn't always travel so fast. For example, water or glass can slow light down, but just a bit. Light may seem to break all driving speed laws. Yet there are certain rules it always follows. Light reflects, or bounces off objects. It also refracts, or bends. And it can be absorbed, or soaked up, by objects. These rules of light affect what, and how, we see. Light! Eyes! Imagine this scene: You're at your desk happily reading Explorer magazine. Light from your desk lamp scatters in all directions. Light hits the page. Some bounces off the page, or reflects. It changes direction. It's a little like how sound bounces off a wall. Now some of this reflected light is traveling right toward your face. Don't duck! For you to see Explorer, some of this light has to enter your eyes. Objects become visible when light bounces off them. Your eyes are light catchers. Yet it takes more than catching light to see an
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image. Your eyes also have to bend light. Here's how. First, light hits your cornea. That's the clear covering on the front of your eyeball. The cornea refracts, or bends, light. And Action! Is your cornea super strong? No! Think about how light travels more slowly through water. The same thing happens in your cornea. As light passes through the cornea, it slows down. That makes the light change direction, or bend. Next, light enters your pupil, the dark center part of your eye. It passes through your lens. The lens bends light, too. What's the big deal about bending light? That's how your eyes focus, or aim the light to make a clear image. The image appears on your retina at the back of your eyeball. It's like a movie. Playing Today at a Theater in Your Eye: Explorer magazine! There's only one problem. The image is upside down. Luckily, your brain flips the image right side up. That's pretty smart! Copyright © 2009 National Geographic. Used by permission. APPENDIX B 100 > OREGON COMMON CORE STATE STANDARDS FOR English Language Arts > & Literacy in History/Social Studies, Science, and Technical Subjects Ronan, Colin A. “Telescopes.” The New Book of Knowledge. New York: Scholastic, 2010. (2010) You can see planets, stars, and other objects in space just by looking up on a clear night. But to really see them--to observe the craters on the moon, the rings around Saturn, and the countless other wonders in our sky--you must use a telescope. A telescope is an instrument used to produce magnified (enlarged) images of distant objects. It does this by gathering and focusing the light or other forms of electromagnetic radiation emitted or reflected by those objects. The word "telescope" comes from two Greek words meaning "far" and "see." Kinds
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of Telescopes There are many different types of telescopes, both optical and non-optical. Optical telescopes are designed to focus visible light. Non-optical telescopes are designed to detect kinds of electromagnetic radiation that are invisible to the human eye. These include radio waves, infrared radiation, X rays, ultraviolet radiation, and gamma rays. The word "optical" means "making use of light." Some telescopes are launched into space. These telescopes gain clearer views. And they can collect forms of electromagnetic radiation that are absorbed by the Earth's atmosphere and do not reach the ground. Optical Telescopes Different types of optical telescopes gather and focus light in different ways. Refracting telescopes, or refractors, use lenses. Reflecting telescopes, or reflectors, use mirrors. And catadioptric telescopes, or catadioptrics, use a combination of lenses and mirrors. The main lens or mirror in an optical telescope is called the objective. Refracting Telescopes. A refracting telescope is typically a long, tube-shaped instrument. The objective is a system of lenses at the front end of the tube (the end facing the sky). When light strikes the lenses, it is bent and brought to a focus within the tube. This forms an image of a distant object. This image can be magnified by the eyepiece. This consists of a group of small lenses at the back of the tube. A camera can replace or be added to the eyepiece. Then photographs can be taken of celestial objects. For many years, these cameras used film. Today most are equipped with charge-coupled devices (CCD's). These devices use semiconductor chips to electronically capture images. CCD's are similar to the devices in home digital cameras and video camcorders. However, the CCD's used by astronomers are usually extremely sensitive to light. From Ronan, Colin A. "Telescopes." Reviewed by William A. Gutsch. The New Book of Knowledge®.
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Copyright © 2010. Grolier Online. All rights reserved. Reprinted by permission of Scholastic Inc. Buckmaster, Henrietta. “Underground Railroad.” The New Book of Knowledge. New York: Scholastic, 2010. (2010) APPENDIX B 101 > OREGON COMMON CORE STATE STANDARDS FOR English Language Arts > & Literacy in History/Social Studies, Science, and Technical Subjects # Sample Performance Tasks for Informational Texts Students explain how Melvin Berger uses reasons and evidence in his book Discovering Mars: The Amazing Story of the Red Planet to support particular points regarding the topology of the planet. [RI.4.8] Students identify the overall structure of ideas, concepts, and information in Seymour Simon’s Horses (based on factors such as their speed and color) and compare and contrast that scheme to the one employed by Patricia Lauber in her book Hurricanes: Earth’s Mightiest Storms. [RI.5.5] Students interpret the visual chart that accompanies Steve Otfinoski’s The Kid’s Guide to Money: Earning It, Saving It, Spending It, Growing It, Sharing It and explain how the information found within it contributes to an understanding of how to create a budget. [RI.4.7] Students explain the relationship between time and clocks using specific information drawn from Bruce Koscielniak’s About Time: A First Look at Time and Clocks . [RI.5.3] Students determine the meaning of domain-specific words or phrases , such as crust , mantle , magma , and lava , and important general academic words and phrases that appear in Seymour Simon’s Volcanoes . [RI.4.4] Students compare and contrast a firsthand account of African American ballplayers in the Negro Leagues to a secondhand account of their treatment found in books such as Kadir Nelson’s We Are the Ship: The Story of Negro League Baseball , attending to the focus of each account and the information provided by each. [RI.4.6] Students quote accurately and explicitly from Leslie
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Hall’s “Seeing Eye to Eye” to explain statements they make and ideas they infer regarding sight and light. [RI.5.1] Students determine the main idea of Colin A. Ronan’s “Telescopes” and create a summary by explaining how key details support his distinctions regarding different types of telescopes. [RI.4.2] APPENDIX B 102 > OREGON COMMON CORE STATE STANDARDS FOR English Language Arts > & Literacy in History/Social Studies, Science, and Technical Subjects # Grades 6 –8 Text Exemplars # Stories Alcott, Louisa May. Little Women . New York: Penguin, 1989. (1868) From Chapter 2: “A Merry Christmas” “Merry Christmas, little daughters! I’m glad you began at once, and hope you will keep on. But I want to say one word before we sit down. Not far away from here lies a poor woman with a little newborn baby. Six children are huddled into one bed to keep from freezing, for they have no fire. There is nothing to eat over there, and the oldest boy came to tell me they were suffering hunger and cold. My girls, will you give them your breakfast as a Christmas present?” They were all unusually hungry, having waited nearly an hour, and for a minute no one spoke, only a minute, for Jo ex claimed impetuously, “I’m so glad you came before we began!” “May I go and help carry the things to the poor little children?” asked Beth eagerly. “I shall take the cream and the muffins,” added Amy, heroically giving up the article she most liked. Meg was already covering the buckwheats, and piling the bread into one big plate. “I thought you’d do it,” said Mrs. March, smiling as if satisfied. “You shall all go and help me, and when we come back we will have bread and milk for breakfast, and make
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it up at dinnertime.” They were soon ready, and the procession set out. Fortunately it was early, and they went through back streets, so few people saw them, and no one laughed at the queer party. A poor, bare, miserable room it was, with broken windows, no fire, ragged bedclothes, a sick mother, wailing baby, and a group of pale, hungry children cuddled under one old quilt, trying to keep warm. How the big eyes stared and the blue lips smiled as the girls went in. “Ach, mein Gott! It is good angels come to us!” sai d the poor woman, crying for joy. “Funny angels in hoods and mittens,” said Jo, and set them to laughing. In a few minutes it really did seem as if kind spirits had been at work there. Hannah, who had carried wood, made a fire, and stopped up the broken panes with old hats and her own cloak. Mrs. March gave the mother tea and gruel, and comforted her with promises of help, while she dressed the little baby as tenderly as if it had been her own. The girls meantime spread the table, set the children round the fire, and fed them like so many hungry birds, laughing, talking, and trying to understand the funny broken English. “Das ist gut!” “Die Engel -kinder!” cried the poor things as they ate and warmed their purple hands at the comfortable blaze. The girls had never been called angel children before, and thought it very agreeable, especially Jo, who had been considered a ‘Sancho’ ever since she was born. That was a very happy APPENDIX B 103 > OREGON COMMON CORE STATE STANDARDS FOR English Language Arts > & Literacy in History/Social Studies, Science, and Technical Subjects breakfast, though they didn’t get any of it.
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And when they went away, leaving comfort b ehind, I think there were not in all the city four merrier people than the hungry little girls who gave away their breakfasts and contented themselves with bread and milk on Christmas morning. “That’s loving our neighbor better than ourselves, and I like it,” said Meg, as they set out their presents while their mother was upstairs collecting clothes for the poor Hummels. Media Text Composer Mark Adamo details for an Opera America online course the process of adapting the novel to operatic form: Twain, Mark. The Adventures of Tom Sawyer . New York: Modern Library, 2001. (1876) From Chapter 2: “The Glorious Whitewasher” But Tom’s energy did not last. He began to think of th e fun he had planned for this day, and his sorrows multiplied. Soon the free boys would come tripping along on all sorts of delicious expeditions, and they would make a world of fun of him for having to work —the very thought of it burnt him like fire. He got out his worldly wealth and examined it —bits of toys, marbles, and trash; enough to buy an exchange of WORK, maybe, but not half enough to buy so much as half an hour of pure freedom. So he returned his straitened means to his pocket, and gave up the idea of trying to buy the boys. At this dark and hopeless moment an inspiration burst upon him! Nothing less than a great, magnificent inspiration. He took up his brush and went tranquilly to work. Ben Rogers hove in sight presently —the very boy, of all boys, whose ridicule he had been dreading. Ben’s gait was the hop -skip-and-jump —proof enough that his heart was light and his anticipations high. He was eating an apple,
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and giving a long, melodious whoop, at intervals, followed by a deep-toned ding-dong-dong, ding-dong-dong, for he was personating a steamboat. As he drew near, he slackened speed, took the middle of the street, leaned far over to starboard and rounded to ponderously and with laborious pomp and circumstance —for he was personating the Big Missouri, and considered himself to be drawing nine feet of water. He was boat and captain and engine-bells combined, so he had to imagine himself standing on his own hurricane-deck giving the orders and executing them: “Stop her, sir! Ting -a-ling-ling!” The headw ay ran almost out, and he drew up slowly toward the sidewalk. “Ship up to back! Ting -a-ling-ling!” His arms straightened and stiffened down his sides. “Set her back on the stabboard! Ting -a-ling-ling! Chow! ch-chow-wow! Chow!” His right hand, meantime, describing stately circles —for it was representing a forty-foot wheel. “Let her go back on the labboard! Ting -a-lingling! Chow-ch-chow-chow!” The left hand began to describe circles. “Stop the stabboard! Ting -a-ling-ling! Stop the labboard! Come ahead on the stabboard! Stop her! Let your outside turn over slow! Ting-a-ling-ling! Chow-ow-ow! Get out that head-line! LIVELY now! Come — out with your spring-line —what’re you about there! Take a turn round that stump with the bight of it! Stand by that stage, now —let her go! Done with the engines, sir! Ting-a-ling-ling! SH’T! S’H’T! SH’T!” (trying the gauge-cocks).” Tom went on whitewashing —paid no attention to the steamboat. Ben stared a moment and then said: “Hi -YI! YOU’RE up a stump, ain’t you!” APPENDIX B 104 > OREGON COMMON CORE STATE STANDARDS FOR English Language Arts > & Literacy in History/Social Studies, Science, and Technical Subjects No answer. Tom surveyed his last touch with the eye of an artist, then he gave his
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brush another gentle sweep and surveyed the result, as before. Ben ranged up alongside of him. Tom’s mouth watered for the apple, but he stuck to his work. Ben said: “Hello, old chap, you got to work, hey?” Tom wheeled suddenly and said: “Why, it’s you, Ben! I warn’t noticing.” “Say—I’m going in a -swimming, I am. Don’t you wish you could? But of course you’d druther WORK— wouldn’t you? Course you would!” Tom contemplated the boy a bit, and said: “What do you call work?” “Why, ain’t THAT work?” Tom resumed his whitewashing, and answered carelessly: “Well, maybe it is, and maybe it ain’t. All I know, is, it suits Tom Sawyer.” “Oh come, now, you don’t mean to let on that you LIKE it?” The brush continued to move. “Like it? Well, I don’t see why I oughtn’t to like it. Does a boy get a chance to whitewash a fence every day?” That put the thing in a new light. Ben stopped nibbling his apple. Tom swept his brush daintily back and forth —stepped back to note the effect —added a touch here and there —criticised the effect again —Ben watching every move and getting more and more interested, more and more absorbed. Presently he said: “Say, Tom, let ME whitewash a little.” Tom considered, was about to consent; but he altered his mind: “No— no —I reckon it wouldn’t hardly do, Ben. You see, Aunt Polly’s awful particular about this fence— right here on the street, you know —but if it was the back fence I wouldn’t mind and SHE wouldn’t. Yes, she’s awful particular about this fence; it’s got to be done very careful; I reckon there ain’t one boy in a thousand, maybe two thousand, that can do it the way it’s got to
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be done.” “No— is that so? Oh come, now —lemme just try. Only just a little —I’d let YOU, if you was me, Tom.” “Ben, I’d like to, honest injun; but Aunt Polly—well, Jim wanted to do it, but she wouldn’t let him; Sid wanted to do it, and she wouldn’t let Sid. Now don’t you see how I’m fixed? If you was to tackle this fence and anything was to happen to it —” “Oh, shucks, I’ll be just as careful. Now lemme try. Say—I’ll give you the core of my apple.” “Well, here—No, Ben, now don’t. I’m afeard—” “I’ll give you ALL of it!” Tom gave up the brush with reluctance in his face, but alacrity in his heart. And while the late steamer Big Missouri worked and sweated in the sun, the retired artist sat on a barrel in the shade close by, dangled his legs, munched his apple, and planned the slaughter of more innocents. There was no lack of material; boys happened along every little while; they came to jeer, but remained to whitewash. By the APPENDIX B 105 > OREGON COMMON CORE STATE STANDARDS FOR English Language Arts > & Literacy in History/Social Studies, Science, and Technical Subjects time Ben was fagged out, Tom had traded the next chance to Billy Fisher for a kite, in good repair; and when he played out, Johnny Miller bought in for a dead rat and a string to swing it with —and so on, and so on, hour after hour. And when the middle of the afternoon came, from being a poor poverty-stricken boy in the morning, Tom was literally rolling in wealth. He had besides the things before mentioned, twelve marbles, part of a jews-harp, a piece of blue bottle-glass to look through, a spool cannon,
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a key that wouldn’t unlock anything, a fragment of chalk, a glass stopper of a decanter, a tin soldier, a couple of tadpoles, six fire-crackers, a kitten with only one eye, a brass doorknob, a dog-collar —but no dog — the handle of a knife, four pieces of orange-peel, and a dilapidated old window sash. He had had a nice, good, idle time all the while —plenty of company —and the fence had three coats of whitewash on it! If he hadn’t run out of whitewash he would have bankrupted every boy in the village. Tom said to himself that it was not such a hollow world, after all. He had discovered a great law of human action, without knowing it —namely, that in order to make a man or a boy covet a thing, it is only necessary to make the thing difficult to attain. If he had been a great and wise philosopher, like the writer of this book, he would now have comprehended that Work consists of whatever a body is OBLIGED to do, and that Play consists of whatever a body is not obliged to do. And this would help him to understand why constructing artificial flowers or performing on a tread-mill is work, while rolling ten-pins or climbing Mont Blanc is only amusement. There are wealthy gentlemen in England who drive four-horse passenger-coaches twenty or thirty miles on a daily line, in the summer, because the privilege costs them considerable money; but if they were offered wages for the service, that would turn it into work and then they would resign. The boy mused awhile over the substantial change which had taken place in his worldly circumstances, and then wended toward headquarters to report. L’Engle, Madeleine. A Wrinkle in Time . New York: Farrar, Straus
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and Giroux, 1962. (1962) Cooper, Susan. The Dark Is Rising . New York: Margaret K. McElderry Books, 1973. (1973) From “Midwinter Day” He was woken by music. It beckoned him, lilting and insistent; delicate music, played by delicate instruments that he could not identify, with one rippling, bell-like phrase running through it in a gold thread of delight. There was in this music so much of the deepest enchantment of all his dreams and imaginings that he woke smiling in pure happiness at the sound. In the moment of his waking, it began to fade, beckoning as it went, and then as he opened his eyes it was gone. He had only the memory of that one rippling phrase still echoing in his head, and itself fading so fast that he sat up abruptly in bed and reached his arm out to the air, as if he could bring it back. The room was very still, and there was no music, and yet Will knew that it had not been a dream. He was in the twins’ room still; he could hear Robin’s breathing, slow and deep, from the other bed. Cold light glimmered round the edge of the curtains, but no one was stirring anywhere; it was very early. Will pulled on his rumpled clothes from the day before, and slipped out of the room. He crossed the landing to the central window, and looked down. APPENDIX B 106 > OREGON COMMON CORE STATE STANDARDS FOR English Language Arts > & Literacy in History/Social Studies, Science, and Technical Subjects In the first shining moment he saw the whole strange-familiar world, glistening white; the roofs of the outbuildings mounded into square towers of snow, and beyond them all the fields and hedge: buried, merged into one great flat expanse, unbroken
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white to the horizon’s brim. Will drew in a long, happy breath, silently rejoicing. Then, very faintly, he heard the music again, the same phrase. He swung round vainly searching for it in the air, as if he might see it somewhere like a flickering light. “Where are you?” Yep, Laurence. Dragonwings . New York: HarperCollins, 1975. (1975) From Ch apter IX: “The Dragon Wakes (December, 1905—April, 1906)” By the time the winter rains came to the city, we were not becoming rich, but we were doing well. Each day we put a little money away in our cold tin can. Father never said anything, but I knew he was thinking about the day when we might be able to afford to bring Mother over. You see, it was not simply a matter of paying her passage over on the boat. Father would probably have to go over after her and escort her across. There had to be money for bribes —tea money, Uncle called it —at both ends of the ocean. Now that we no longer belonged to the Company, we somehow had to acquire a thousand dollars worth of property, a faraway figure when you can only save nickels and dimes . And yet the hope that we could start our own little fix-it shop and qualify as merchants steadily grew with the collection of coins in the tin can. I was happy most of the time, even when it became the time for the New Year by the Tang people’s reckoning. *…+ We took the old picture of the Stove King and smeared some honey on it before we burned it in the stove. Later that evening we would hang up a new picture of the Stove King that we had bought in the Tang people’s town.
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That was a sign the Stove King had returned to his place abov e our stove. After we had finished burning the old picture, we sat down to a lunch of meat pastries and dumplings. Taylor, Mildred D. Roll of Thunder, Hear My Cry . New York: Phyllis Fogelman Books, 1976. (1976) From Chapter 9 “You were born blessed, boy, with land of your own. If you hadn’t been, you’d cry out for it while you try to survive… like Mr. Lanier and Mr. Avery. Maybe even do what they doing now. It’s hard on a man to give up, but sometimes it seems there just ain’t nothing else he can do.” “I… I’m sorry, Papa,” Stacey muttered. After a moment, Papa reached out and draped his arm over Stacey’s shoulder. “Papa,” I said, standing to join them, “we giving up too?” Papa looked down at me and brought me closer, then waved his hand toward the drive. “You see that fig tree over yonder, Cassie? Them other trees all around… that oak and walnut, they’re a lot bigger and they take up more room and give so much shade they almost overshadow that little ole fig. But that fig tree’s got roots that run deep, an d it belongs in that yard as much as that oak and walnut. It keeps APPENDIX B 107 > OREGON COMMON CORE STATE STANDARDS FOR English Language Arts > & Literacy in History/Social Studies, Science, and Technical Subjects blooming, bearing fruit year after year, knowing all the time it’ll never get as big as them other trees. Just keeps on growing and doing what it gotta do. It don’t give up. It give up, it’ll die. There’s a lesson to be learned from that little tree, Cassie girl, ‘cause we’re like it. We
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keep doing what we gotta do, and we don’t give up. We can’t.” Hamilton, Virginia. “The People Could Fly.” The People Could Fly: American Black Folktales . New York: Knopf Books for Young Readers, 1985. (1985) They say the people could fly. Say that long ago in Africa, some of the people knew magic. And they would walk up on the air like climbin up on a gate. And they flew like blackbirds over the fields. Black, shiny wings flappin against the blue up there. Then, many of the people were captured for Slavery. The ones that could fly shed their wings. They couldn’t take their wings across the water on slave ships. Too crowded, don’t you know. The folks were full of misery, then. Got sick with the up and down of the sea. So they forgot about flyin when they could no longer breathe the sweet scent of Africa. Say the people who could fly kept their power, although they shed their wings. They looked the same as the other people from Africa who had been coming over, who had dark skin. Say you couldn’t tell anymore one who could fly from one who couldn’t. One such who could was an old man, call him Toby. And standin tall, yet afraid, was a young woman who once had wings. Call her Sarah. Now Sarah carried a babe tied to her back. She trembled to be so hard worked and scorned. The slaves labored in the fields from sunup to sundown. The owner of the slaves callin himself their Master. Say he was a hard lump of clay. A hard , glinty coal. A hard rock pile, wouldn’t be moved. His Overseer on horseback pointed out the slaves who were slowin down. So the one called Driver cracked his
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whip over the slow ones to make them move faster. That whip was a slice-open cut of pain. So they did move faster. Had to. Paterson, Katherine. The Tale of the Mandarin Ducks . Illustrated by Leo and Diane Dillon. New York: Lodestar Books, 1990. (1990) Long ago and far away in the Land of the Rising Sun, there lived together a pair of mandarin ducks. Now, the drake was a magnificent bird with plumage of colors so rich that the emperor himself would have envied it. But his mate, the duck, wore the quiet tones of the wood, blending exactly with the hole in the tree where the two had made their nest. One day while the duck was sitting on her eggs, the drake flew down to a nearby pond to search for food. While he was there, a hunting party entered the woods. The hunters were led by the lord of the district, a proud and cruel man who believed that everything in the district belonged to him to do with as he chose. The lord was always looking for beautiful things to adorn his manor house and garden. And when he saw the drake swimming gracefully on the surface of the pond, he determined to capture him. APPENDIX B 108 > OREGON COMMON CORE STATE STANDARDS FOR English Language Arts > & Literacy in History/Social Studies, Science, and Technical Subjects The lor d’s chief steward, a man named Shozo, tried to discourage his master. “The drake is a wild spirit, my lord,” he said. “Surely he will die in captivity.” But the lord pretended not to hear Shozo. Secretly he despised Shozo, because although Shozo had once been his mightiest samurai, the warrior had lost an eye in battle and was no longer handsome to look
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upon. The lord ordered his servants to clear a narrow way through the undergrowth and place acorns along the path. When the drake came out of the water he saw the acorns. How pleased he was! He forgot to be cautious, thinking only of what a feast they would be to take home to his mate. Just as he was bending to pick up an acorn in his scarlet beak, a net fell over him, and the frightened bird was carried back to the lord’s manor and placed in a small bamboo cage. From THE TALE OF THE MANDARIN DUCKS by Katherine Paterson, illustrated by Diane and Leo Dillon. Text © 1990 by Katherine Paterson. Illustrations © 1990 by Diane and Leo Dillon. Used by permission of Dutton Children's Books, A Division of Penguin Young Readers Group, A Member of Penguin Group (USA) Inc, All rights reserved. Cisneros, Sandra. “Eleven.” Woman Hollering Creek and Other Stories. New York: Random House, 1991. (1991) What they don’t understand about birthdays and what they never tell you is that when you’re eleven, you’re also ten, and nine, and eight, and seven, and six, and five, and four, and three, and two, and one. And when you wake up on your eleventh birthday you expect to feel eleve n, but you don’t. You open your eyes and everything’s just like yesterday, only it’s today. And you don’t feel eleven at all. You feel like you’re still ten. And you are — underneath the year that makes you eleven. Like some days you might say something st upid, and that’s the part of you that’s still ten. Or maybe some days you might need to sit on your mama’s lap because you’re scared, and that’s the part of you that’s five. And maybe one day
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when you’re all grown up maybe you will need to cry like if you’re three, and that’s okay. That’s what I tell Mama when she’s sad and needs to cry. Maybe she’s feeling three. Because the way you grow old is kind of like an onion or like the rings inside a tree trunk or like my little wooden dolls that fit one inside th e other, each year inside the next one. That’s how being eleven years old is. You don’t feel eleven. Not right away. It takes a few days, weeks even, sometimes even months before you say Eleven when they ask you. And you don’t feel smart eleven, not until you’re almost twelve. That’s the way it is. Sutcliff, Rosemary. Black Ships Before Troy: The Story of the Iliad . New York: Delacorte Press, 1993. (1993) From “The Golden Apple” In the high and far-off days when men were heroes and walked with the gods, Peleus, king of the Myrmidons, took for his wife a sea nymph called Thetis, Thetis of the Silver Feet. Many guests came to their wedding feast, and among the mortal guests came all the gods of high Olympus. APPENDIX B 109 > OREGON COMMON CORE STATE STANDARDS FOR English Language Arts > & Literacy in History/Social Studies, Science, and Technical Subjects But as they sat feasting, one who had not been invited was suddenly in their midst: Eris, the goddess of discord, had been left out because wherever she went she took trouble with her; yet here she was, all the same, and in her blackest mood, to avenge the insult. All she did —it seemed a small thing —was to toss down on the table a golden apple. Then she breathed upon the guests once, and vanished. The apple lay gleaming
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among the piled fruits and the brimming wine cups; and bending close to look at it, everyone could see the words “To the fairest” traced o n its side. Then the three greatest of the goddesses each claimed that it was hers. Hera claimed it as wife to Zeus, the All-father, and queen of all the gods. Athene claimed that she had the better right, for the beauty of wisdom such as hers surpassed all else. Aphrodite only smiled, and asked who had a better claim to beauty’s prize than the goddess of beauty herself. They fell to arguing among themselves; the argument became a quarrel, and the quarrel grew more and more bitter, and each called upon the assembled guests to judge between them. But the other guests refused, for they knew well enough that, whichever goddess they chose to receive the golden apple, they would make enemies of the other two. # Drama Fletcher, Louise. Sorry, Wrong Number . New York: Dramatists Play Service, 1948. (1948) [SCENE: As curtain rises, we see a divided stage, only the center part of which is lighted and furnished as MRS. STEVENSON’S bedroom. Expensive, rather fussy furnishings. A large bed, on which MRS. STEVESON, clad in bed-jacket, is lying. A night-table close by, with phone, lighted lamp, and pill bottles. A mantle, with clock, R. A closed door. R. A window, with curtains closed, rear. The set is lit by one lamp on night-table. It is enclosed by three flats. Beyond this central set, the stage, on either side, is in darkness. MRS. STEVENSON is dialing a number on the phone, as curtain rises. She listens to phone, slams down receiver in irritation. As she does so, we hear sound of a train roaring by in the distance. She reaches for her
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pill bottle, pours herself a glass of water, shakes out pill, swallows it, then reaches for the phone again, dials number nervously.] SOUND: Number being dialed on phone: Busy signal. MRS. STEVENSON. (A querulous, self-centered neurotic.) Oh —dear! (Slams down receiver, Dials OPERATOR.) [Scene: A spotlight, L. of side flat, picks up out of peripheral darkness, figure of 1 st OPERATOR, sitting with headphones at a small table. If spotlight not available, use flashlight, clicked on by 1 st OPERATOR, illuminating her face.] OPERATOR. Your call, please? APPENDIX B 110 > OREGON COMMON CORE STATE STANDARDS FOR English Language Arts > & Literacy in History/Social Studies, Science, and Technical Subjects MRS. STEVENSON. Operator? I’ve been dialing Murray Hill 4 -0098 now for the last three-quarters of an hour, and the line is always busy. But I don’t see how it could be that busy that long. Will you try it for me please? OPERATOR. Murray Hill 4-0098? One moment, please. [SCENE: She makes gesture of plugging in call through switchboard.] MRS. STEVENSON. I don’t see how it could be busy all this time. It’s my husband’s office. He’s working late tonight , and I’m all alone. Copyright © 1948, 1952, 1976, 1980, Lucille Fletcher CAUTION: The excerpt from SORRY, WRONG NUMBER included herein is reprinted by permission of William Morris Endeavor Entertainment, LLC. The English language amateur stage performance rights in this Play are controlled exclusively by Dramatists Play Service, Inc., 440 Park Avenue South, New York, NY 10016. No nonprofessional performance of the Play may be given without obtaining, in advance, the written permission of Dramatists Play Service, Inc., and paying the requisite fee. Inquiries concerning all other rights should be addressed to William Morris Endeavor Entertainment, LLC. Goodrich, Frances and Albert Hackett. The Diary of Anne Frank: A
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Play . New York: Random House, 1956. (1956) # Poetry Longfellow, Henry Wadsworth. “Paul Revere’s Ride.” (1861) Listen, my children, and you shall hear Of the midnight ride of Paul Revere, On the eighteenth of April, in Seventy-five; Hardly a man is now alive Who remembers that famous day and year. He said to his friend, “If the British march By land or sea from the town to-night, Hang a lantern aloft in the belfry arch Of the North Church tower as a signal light, — One, if by land, and two, if by sea; And I on the opposite shore will be, Ready to ride and spread the alarm Through every Middlesex village and farm, For the country-folk to be up and to arm.” Then he said, “Good night!” and with muffled oar APPENDIX B 111 > OREGON COMMON CORE STATE STANDARDS FOR English Language Arts > & Literacy in History/Social Studies, Science, and Technical Subjects Silently rowed to the Charlestown shore, Just as the moon rose over the bay, Where swinging wide at her moorings lay The Somerset, British man-of-war; A phantom ship, with each mast and spar Across the moon like a prison bar, And a huge black hulk, that was magnified By its own reflection in the tide. Meanwhile, his friend, through alley and street, Wanders and watches with eager ears, Till in the silence around him he hears The muster of men at the barrack door, The sound of arms, and the tramp of feet, And the measured tread of the grenadiers, Marching down to their boats on the shore. Then he climbed to the tower of the church, Up the wooden stairs, with stealthy tread, To the belfry-chamber overhead, And startled the pigeons from their perch On the sombre rafters, that round him made
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Masses and moving shapes of shade, — Up the trembling ladder, steep and tall, To the highest window in the wall, Where he paused to listen and look down A moment on the roofs of the town, And the moonlight flowing over all. Beneath, in the churchyard, lay the dead, In their night-encampment on the hill, Wrapped in silence so deep and still That he could hear, like a sentinel’s tread, The watchful night-wind, as it went Creeping along from tent to tent, And seeming to whisper, “All is well!” A moment only he feels the spell Of the place and the hour, and the secret dread Of the lonely belfry and the dead; For suddenly all his thoughts are bent On a shadowy something far away, Where the river widens to meet the bay, — A line of black that bends and floats On the rising tide, like a bridge of boats. Meanwhile, impatient to mount and ride, Booted and spurred, with a heavy stride On the opposite shore walked Paul Revere. Now he patted his horse’s side, Now gazed at the landscape far and near, APPENDIX B 112 > OREGON COMMON CORE STATE STANDARDS FOR English Language Arts > & Literacy in History/Social Studies, Science, and Technical Subjects Then, impetuous, stamped the earth, And turned and tightened his saddle-girth; But mostly he watched with eager search The belfry-tower of the Old North Church, As it rose above the graves on the hill, Lonely and spectral and sombre and still. And lo! as he looks, on the belfry’s height A glimmer, and then a gleam of light! He springs to the saddle, the bridle he turns, But lingers and gazes, till full on his sight A second lamp in the belfry burns! A hurry of hoofs in a village
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street, A shape in the moonlight, a bulk in the dark, And beneath, from the pebbles, in passing, a spark Struck out by a steed flying fearless and fleet; That was all! And yet, through the gloom and the light, The fate of a nation was riding that night; And the spark struck out by that steed, in his flight, Kindled the land into flame with its heat. He has left the village and mounted the steep, And beneath him, tranquil and broad and deep, Is the Mystic, meeting the ocean tides; And under the alders, that skirt its edge, Now soft on the sand, now loud on the ledge, Is heard the tramp of his steed as he rides. It was twelve by the village clock When he crossed the bridge into Medford town. He heard the crowing of the cock, And the barking of the farmer’s dog, And felt the damp of the river fog, That rises after the sun goes down. It was one by the village clock, When he galloped into Lexington. He saw the gilded weathercock Swim in the moonlight as he passed, And the meeting-house windows, blank and bare, Gaze at him with a spectral glare, As if they already stood aghast At the bloody work they would look upon. It was two by the village clock, When he came to the bridge in Concord town. He heard the bleating of the flock, And the twitter of birds among the trees, APPENDIX B 113 > OREGON COMMON CORE STATE STANDARDS FOR English Language Arts > & Literacy in History/Social Studies, Science, and Technical Subjects And felt the breath of the morning breeze Blowing over the meadows brown. And one was safe and asleep in his bed Who at the bridge would be first to
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fall, Who that day would be lying dead, Pierced by a British musket-ball. You know the rest. In the books you have read, How the British Regulars fired and fled, — How the farmers gave them ball for ball, From behind each fence and farm-yard wall, Chasing the red-coats down the lane, Then crossing the fields to emerge again Under the trees at the turn of the road, And only pausing to fire and load. So through the night rode Paul Revere; And so through the night went his cry of alarm To every Middlesex village and farm, — A cry of defiance and not of fear, A voice in the darkness, a knock at the door, And a word that shall echo forevermore! For, borne on the night-wind of the Past, Through all our history, to the last, In the hour of darkness and peril and need, The people will waken and listen to hear The hurrying hoof-beats of that steed, And the midnight message of Paul Revere. Media Text “The Midnight Ride,” an extensive resource, including audio, images, and maps, provided by the Paul Revere Memorial Association: Whitman, Walt. “O Captain! My Captain!” Leaves of Grass. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1990. (1865) O Captain! my Captain! our fearful trip is done; The ship has weather’d every rack, the prize we sought is won; The port is near, the bells I hear, the people all exulting, While follow eyes the steady keel, the vessel grim and daring: But O heart! heart! heart! O the bleeding drops of red, Where on the deck my Captain lies, Fallen cold and dead. APPENDIX B 114 > OREGON COMMON CORE STATE STANDARDS FOR English Language Arts > & Literacy in History/Social Studies, Science, and Technical Subjects O Captain! my Captain! rise up
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and hear the bells; Rise up —for you the flag is flung —for you the bugle trills; For you bouquets and ribbon’d wreaths— for you the shores a-crowding; For you they call, the swaying mass, their eager faces turning; Here Captain! dear father! This arm beneath your head; It is some dream that on the deck, You’ve fallen cold and dead. My Captain does not answer, his lips are pale and still; My father does not feel my arm, he has no pulse nor will; The ship is anchor’d safe and sound, its voyage closed and done; From fearful trip, the victor ship, comes in with object won; Exult, O shores, and ring, O bells! But I, with mournful tread, Walk the deck my Captain lies, Fallen cold and dead. Carroll, Lewis. “Jabberwocky.” Alice Through the Looking Glass. Cambridge, Mass.: Candlewick, 2005. (1872) From Chapter 1: “Looking -Glass House” ‘Twas brillig, and the slithy toves Did gyre and gimble in the wabe; All mimsy were the borogoves, And the mome raths outgrabe. ‘Beware the Jabberwock, my son! The jaws that bite, the claws that catch! Beware the Jubjub bird, and shun The frumious Bandersnatch!’ He took his vorpal sword in hand: Long time the manxome foe he sought So rested he by the Tumtum tree, And stood awhile in thought. And as in uffish thought he stood, The Jabberwock, with eyes of flame, Came whiffling through the tulgey wood, And burbled as it came! One, two! One, two! And through and through The vorpal blade went snicker-snack! He left it dead, and with its head APPENDIX B 115 > OREGON COMMON CORE STATE STANDARDS FOR English Language Arts > & Literacy in History/Social Studies, Science, and Technical Subjects He went galumphing back. ‘And hast thou slain the Jabberwock? Come to
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my arms, my beamish boy! O frabjous day! Callooh! Callay!’ He chortled in his joy. ‘Twas brillig, and the slithy toves Did gyre and gimble in the wabe; All mimsy were the borogoves, And the mome raths outgrabe. Navajo tradition. “Twelfth Song of Thunder.” The Mountain Chant: A Navajo Ceremony. Forgotten Books, 2008. (1887) The voice that beautifies the land! The voice above, The voice of thunder Within the dark cloud Again and again it sounds, The voice that beautifies the land. The voice that beautifies the land! The voice below, The voice of the grasshopper Among the plants Again and again it sounds, The voice that beautifies the land. Dickinson, Emily. “The Railway Train.” The Complete Poems of Emily Dickinson . Boston: Little, Brown, 1960. (1893) I like to see it lap the miles, And lick the valleys up, And stop to feed itself at tanks; And then, prodigious, step Around a pile of mountains, And, supercilious, peer In shanties by the sides of roads; And then a quarry pare To fit its sides, and crawl between, Complaining all the while In horrid, hooting stanza; Then chase itself down hill APPENDIX B 116 > OREGON COMMON CORE STATE STANDARDS FOR English Language Arts > & Literacy in History/Social Studies, Science, and Technical Subjects And neigh like Boanerges; Then, punctual as a star, Stop —docile and omnipotent — At its own stable door. Yeats, William Butler. “The Song of Wandering Aengus.” W. B. Yeats Selected Poetry. London: Macmillan, 1962. (1899) I WENT out to the hazel wood, Because a fire was in my head, And cut and peeled a hazel wand, And hooked a berry to a thread; And when white moths were on the wing, And moth-like stars were flickering out, I dropped the berry in a stream And
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caught a little silver trout. When I had laid it on the floor I went to blow the fire a-flame, But something rustled on the floor, And someone called me by my name: It had become a glimmering girl With apple blossom in her hair Who called me by my name and ran And faded through the brightening air. Though I am old with wandering Through hollow lands and hilly lands, I will find out where she has gone, And kiss her lips and take her hands; And walk among long dappled grass, And pluck till time and times are done, The silver apples of the moon, The golden apples of the sun. Frost, Robert. “The Road Not Taken.” The Poetry of Robert Frost: The Collected Poems . Edited by Edward Connery Lathem. New York: Henry Holt, 1979. (1915) Two roads diverged in a yellow wood, And sorry I could not travel both And be one traveler, long I stood And looked down one as far as I could To where it bent in the undergrowth; Then took the other, as just as fair, APPENDIX B 117 > OREGON COMMON CORE STATE STANDARDS FOR English Language Arts > & Literacy in History/Social Studies, Science, and Technical Subjects And having perhaps the better claim, Because it was grassy and wanted wear; Though as for that the passing there Had worn them really about the same, And both that morning equally lay In leaves no step had trodden black. Oh, I kept the first for another day! Yet knowing how way leads on to way, I doubted if I should ever come back. I shall be telling this with a sigh Somewhere ages and ages hence: Two roads diverged in a wood, and I — I took the one less traveled by,
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And that has made all the difference. Sandburg, Carl. “Chicago.” Chicago Poems . New York: Henry Holt, 1916. (1916) Hog Butcher for the World, Tool Maker, Stacker of Wheat, Player with Railroads and the Nation’s Freight Handler; Stormy, husky, brawling, City of the Big Shoulders: They tell me you are wicked and I believe them, for I have seen your painted women under the gas lamps luring the farm boys. And they tell me you are crooked and I answer: Yes, it is true I have seen the gunman kill and go free to kill again. And they tell me you are brutal and my reply is: On the faces of women and children I have seen the marks of wanton hunger. And having answered so I turn once more to those who sneer at this my city, and I give them back the sneer and say to them: Come and show me another city with lifted head singing so proud to be alive and coarse and strong and cunning. Flinging magnetic curses amid the toil of piling job on job, here is a tall bold slugger set vivid against the little soft cities; Fierce as a dog with tongue lapping for action, cunning as a savage pitted against the wilderness, Bareheaded, Shoveling, Wrecking, Planning, Building, breaking, rebuilding, Under the smoke, dust all over his mouth, laughing with white teeth, Under the terrible burden of destiny laughing as a young man laughs, Laughing even as an ignorant fighter laughs who has never lost a battle, APPENDIX B 118 > OREGON COMMON CORE STATE STANDARDS FOR English Language Arts > & Literacy in History/Social Studies, Science, and Technical Subjects Bragging and laughing that under his wrist is the pulse, and under his ribs the heart of the people, Laughing! Laughing the
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stormy, husky, brawling laughter of Youth, half-naked, sweating, proud to be Hog Butcher, Tool Maker, Stacker of Wheat, Player with Railroads and Freight Handler to the Nation. Hughes, Langston. “I, Too, Sing America.” The Collected Poems of Langston Hughes . New York: Knopf, 1994. (1925) Neruda, Pablo. “The Book of Questions.” The Book of Questions . Translated by William O’Daly. Port Townsend, Wash.: Copper Canyon Press, 1991. (1973) Soto, Gary. “Oranges.” Black Hair. Pittsburgh: University of Pittsburgh Press, 1985. (1985) Giovanni, Nikki. “A Poem for My Librarian, Mrs. Long.” Acolytes . New York: William Morrow, 2007. (2007) A Poem for My Librarian, Mrs. Long (You never know what troubled little girl needs a book) At a time when there was not tv before 3:00 P.M. And on Sunday none until 5:00 We sat on the front porches watching The jfg sign go on and off greeting The neighbors, discussion the political Situation congratulating the preacher On his sermon There was always the radio which brought us Songs from wlac in nashville and what we would now call Easy listening or smooth jazz but when I listened Late at night with my portable (that I was so proud of) Tucked under my pillow I heard nat king cole and matt dennis, june christy and ella fitzgerald And sometimes sarah vaughan sing black coffee Which I now drink It was just called music There was a bookstore uptown on gay street Which I visited and inhaled that wonderful odor Of new books Even today I read hardcover as a preference paperback only As a last resort And up the hill on vine street APPENDIX B 119 > OREGON COMMON CORE STATE STANDARDS FOR English Language Arts > & Literacy in History/Social Studies, Science, and Technical Subjects (The main black corridor) sat our
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carnegie library Mrs. Long always glad to see you The stereoscope always ready to show you faraway Places to dream about Mrs. Long asking what are you looking for today When I wanted Leaves of Grass or alfred north whitehead She would go to the big library uptown and I now know Hat in hand to ask to borrow so that I might borrow Probably they said something humiliating since southern Whites like to humiliate southern blacks But she nonetheless brought the books Back and I held them to my chest Close to my heart And happily skipped back to grandmother’s house Where I would sit on the front porch In a gray glider and dream of a world Far away I love the world where I was I was safe and warm and grandmother gave me neck kissed When I was on my way to bed But there was a world Somewhere Out there And Mrs. Long opened that wardrobe But no lions or witches scared me I went through Knowing there would be Spring COPYRIGHT © 2007 BY Nikki Giovanni. Used by permission. # Sample Performance Tasks for Stories, Drama, and Poetry Students summarize the development of the morality of Tom Sawyer in Mark Twain’s novel of the same name and analyze its connection to themes of accountability and authenticity by noting how it is conveyed through characters, setting, and plot. [RL.8.2] Students compare and contrast Laurence Yep’s fictional portrayal of Chinese immigrants in turn-of-the-twentieth-century San Francisco in Dragonwings to historical accounts of the same period (using materials detailing the 1906 San Francisco earthquake) in order to glean a deeper understanding of how authors use or alter historical sources to create a sense of time and place as well as make fictional characters lifelike and real. [RL.7.9] APPENDIX
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B 120 > OREGON COMMON CORE STATE STANDARDS FOR English Language Arts > & Literacy in History/Social Studies, Science, and Technical Subjects Students cite explicit textual evidence as well as draw inferences about the drake and the duck from Katherine Paterson’s The Tale of the Mandarin Ducks to support their analysis of the perils of vanity. [RL.6.1] Students explain how Sandra Cisneros’s choice of words develops the point of view of the young speaker in her story “Eleven.” [RL.6.6] Students analyze how the playwright Louise Fletcher uses particular elements of drama (e.g., setting and dialogue) to create dramatic tension in her play Sorry, Wrong Number . [RL.7.3] Students compare and contrast the effect Henry Wadsworth Longfellow’s poem “Paul Revere’s Ride” has on them to the effect they experience from a multimedia dramatization of the event presented in an interactive digital map ( ), analyzing the impact of different techniques employed that are unique to each medium . [RL.7.7] Students analyze Walt Whitman’s “O Captain! My Captain!” to uncover the poem’s analogies and allusions . They analyze the impact of specific word choices by Whitman, such as rack and grim , and determine how they contribute to the overall meaning and tone of the poem . [RL.8.4] Students analyze how the opening stanza of Robert Frost’s “The Road Not Taken” structures the rhythm and meter for the poem and how the themes introduced by the speaker develop over the course of the text . [RL.6.5] # Informational Texts: English Language Arts Adams, John. “Letter on Thomas Jefferson.” Adams on Adams. Edited by Paul M. Zall. Lexington: University Press of Kentucky, 2004. (1776) From Chapter 6: “Declaring Independence 1775–1776” Mr. Jefferson came into Congress, in June, 1775, and brought with him a reputation for literature, science, science, and a happy talent
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of composition. Writings of his were handed about, remarkable for the peculiar felicity of expression. Though a silent member in Congress, he was so prompt, frank, explicit, and decisive upon committees and in conversation, not even Samuel Adams was more so, that he soon seized upon my heart; and upon this occasion I gave him my vote, and did all in my power to procure the votes of others. I think he had one more vote than any other, and that placed him at the head of the committee. I had the next highest number, and that placed me second. The committee met, discussed the subject, and then appointed Mr. Jefferson and me to make the draught, I suppose because we were the two first on the list. The subcommittee met. Jefferson proposed to me to make the draft. I said, ‘I will not.’ ‘You should do it.’ ‘Oh! no.’ ‘Why will you not? You ought to do it.’ ‘I will not.’ ‘Why?’ ‘Reasons enough.’ ‘What can be your reasons?’ APPENDIX B 121 > OREGON COMMON CORE STATE STANDARDS FOR English Language Arts > & Literacy in History/Social Studies, Science, and Technical Subjects ‘Reason first, you are a Virginian, and a Virginian ought to appear at t he head of this business. Reason second, I am obnoxious, suspected, and unpopular. You are very much otherwise. Reason third, you can write ten times better than I can.’ ‘Well,’ said Jefferson, ‘if you are decided, I will do as well as I can.’ ‘Very well. When you have drawn it up, we will have a meeting.’ Media Text Adams Family Papers: An Electronic Archive, hosted by the Massachusetts Historical Society, includes transcriptions of letters between John and Abigail Adams as well as John Adams’s diary an dautobiography: Douglass, Frederick. Narrative of
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the Life of Frederick Douglass an American Slave, Written by Himself .Boston: Anti-Slavery Office, 1845. (1845) The plan which I adopted, and the one by which I was most successful, was that of making friends of all the little white boys whom I met in the street. As many of these as I could, I converted into teachers. With their kindly aid, obtained at different times and in different places, I finally succeeded in learning to read. When I was sent of errands, I always took my book with me, and by going one part of my errand quickly, I found time to get a lesson before my return. I used also to carry bread with me, enough of which was always in the house, and to which I was always welcome; for I was much better off in this regard than many of the poor white children in our neighborhood. This bread I used to bestow upon the hungry little urchins, who, in return, would give me that more valuable bread of knowledge. I am strongly tempted to give the names of two or three of those little boys, as a testimonial of the gratitude and affection I bear them; but prudence forbids; —not that it would injure me, but it might embarrass them; for it is almost an unpardonable offence to teach slaves to read in this Christian country. It is enough to say of the dear little fellows, that they lived on Philpot Street, very near Durgin and Bailey’s ship-yard. I used to talk this matter of slavery over with them. I would sometimes say to them, I wished I could be as free as they would be when they got to be men. “You will be free as soon as you are twenty -one, but I
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am a slave for life! Have not I as good a right to be free as you have?” These words used to trouble them; they would express for me the liveliest sympathy, and console me with the hope that something would occur by which I might be free. I was now about twelve years old, and the thought of being a slave for life began to bear heavily upon my heart. Just about this time, I got hold of a book entitled “The Columbian Orator.” Every opportunity I got, I used to read this book. Among much of other interesting matter, I found in it a dialogue between a master and his slave. The slave was represented as having run away from his master three times. The dialogue represented the conversation which took place between them, when the slave was retaken the third time. In this dialogue, the whole argument in behalf of slavery was brought forward by the master, all of which was disposed of by the slave. The slave was made to say some very smart as well as impressive things in reply to his master —things which had the desired though unexpected effect; for the conversation resulted in the voluntary emancipation of the slave on the part of the master. In the same book, I met with one of Sheridan’s mighty speeches on and in behalf of Catholic emancipation. These were choice documents to me. I read them over and over again with unabated APPENDIX B 122 > OREGON COMMON CORE STATE STANDARDS FOR English Language Arts > & Literacy in History/Social Studies, Science, and Technical Subjects interest. They gave tongue to interesting thoughts of my own soul, which had frequently flashed through my mind, and died away for want of utterance. The moral which I gained
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from the dialogue was the power of truth over the conscience of even a slaveholder. What I got from Sheridan was a bold denunciation of slavery, and a powerful vindication of human rights. The reading of these documents enabled me to utter my thoughts, and to meet the arguments brought forward to sustain slavery; but while they relieved me of one difficulty, they brought on another even more painful than the one of which I was relieved. The more I read, the more I was led to abhor and detest my enslavers. I could regard them in no other light than a band of successful robbers, who had left their homes, and gone to Africa, and stolen us from our homes, and in a strange land reduced us to slavery. I loathed them as being the meanest as well as the most wicked of men. As I read and contemplated the subject, behold! that very discontentment which Master Hugh had predicted would follow my learning to read had already come, to torment and sting my soul to unutterable anguish. As I writhed under it, I would at times feel that learning to read had been a curse rather than a blessing. It had given me a view of my wretched condition, without the remedy. It opened my eyes to the horrible pit, but to no ladder upon which to get out. In moments of agony, I envied my fellow-slaves for their stupidity. I have often wished myself a beast. I preferred the condition of the meanest reptile to my own. Any thing, no matter what, to get rid of thinking! It was this everlasting thinking of my condition that tormented me. There was no getting rid of it. It was pressed upon me by every object within sight or hearing,
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animate or inanimate. The silver trump of freedom had roused my soul to eternal wakefulness. Freedom now appeared, to disappear no more forever. It was heard in every sound, and seen in every thing. It was ever present to torment me with a sense of my wretched condition. I saw nothing without seeing it, I heard nothing without hearing it, and felt nothing without feeling it. It looked from every star, it smiled in every calm, breathed in every wind, and moved in every storm. Churchill, W inston. “Blood, Toil, Tears and Sweat: Address to Parliament on May 13th, 1940.” Lend Me Your Ears: Great Speeches in History, 3rd Edition. Edited by William Safire. New York: W. W. Norton, 2004. (1940) From “Winston Churchill Braces Britons to Their Task” I say to the House as I said to ministers who have joined this government, I have nothing to offer but blood, toil, tears, and sweat. We have before us an ordeal of the most grievous kind. We have before us many, many months of struggle and suffering. You ask, what is our policy? I say it is to wage war by land, sea, and air. War with all our might and with all the strength God has given us, and to wage war against a monstrous tyranny never surpassed in the dark and lamentable catalogue of human crime. That is our policy. You ask, what is our aim? I can answer in one word. It is victory. Victory at all costs - Victory in spite of all terrors - Victory, however long and hard the road may be, for without victory there is no survival. I take up my task in buoyancy and hope. I feel sure that our cause will not be suffered to fail among men. I feel
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entitled at this juncture, at this time, to claim the aid of all and to say, “Come then, let us go forward together with our united strength.” APPENDIX B 123 > OREGON COMMON CORE STATE STANDARDS FOR English Language Arts > & Literacy in History/Social Studies, Science, and Technical Subjects Petry, Ann. Harriet Tubman: Conductor on the Underground Railroad . New York: HarperCollins, 1983. (1955)From Chapter 3: “Six Years Old” By the time Harriet Ross was six years old, she had unconsciously absorbed many kinds of knowledge, almost with the air she breathed. She could not, for example, have said how or at what moment she knew that she was a slave. She knew that her brothers and sisters, her father and mother, and all the other people who lived in the quarter, men, women and children were slaves. She had been taught t o say, “Yes, Missus,” “No, Missus,” to white women, “Yes, Mas’r,” “No, Mas’r” to white men. Or, “Yes, sah,” “No, sah.” At the same time someone had taught her where to look for the North Star, the star that stayed constant, not rising in the east and setting in the west as the other stars appeared to do; and told her that anyone walking toward the North could use that star as a guide. She knew about fear, too. Sometimes at night, or during the day, she heard the furious galloping of horses, not just one horse, several horses, thud of the hoofbeats along the road, jingle of harness. She saw the grown folks freeze into stillness, not moving, scarcely breathing, while they listened. She could not remember who first told her that those furious hoofbeats meant that patrollers were going in pursuit of a runaway. Only the slaves said patterollers, whispering the word. Steinbeck, John.
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Travels with Charley: In Search of America . New York: Penguin, 1997. (1962) From pages 27 –28 I soon discovered that if a wayfaring stranger wishes to eavesdrop on a local population the places for him to slip in and hold his peace are bars and churches. But some New England towns don’t have bars, and church is only on Sunday. A good alternative is the roadside restaurant where men gather for breakfast before going to work or going hunting. To find these places inhabited one must get up very early. And there is a drawback even to this. Early-rising men not only do not talk much to strangers, they barely talk to one another. Breakfast conversation is limited to a series of laconic grunts. The natural New England taciturnity reaches its glorious perfection at breakfast. *…+ I am not normally a breakfast eater, but here I had to be or I wouldn’t see anybody unless I stopped for gas. At the first lighted roadside restaurant I pulled in and took my seat at a counter. The customers were folded over their coffee cups like ferns. A normal conversation is as follows: WAITRESS: “Same?” CUSTOMER: “Yep.” WAITRESS: “Cold enough for you?” CUSTOMER: “Yep.” (Ten minutes.) WAITRESS: “Refill?” APPENDIX B 124 > OREGON COMMON CORE STATE STANDARDS FOR English Language Arts > & Literacy in History/Social Studies, Science, and Technical Subjects CUSTOMER: “Yep.” This is a really talkative customer. # Sample Performance Tasks for Informational Texts: English Language Arts Students determine the point of view of John Adams in his “Letter on Thomas Jefferson” and analyze how he distinguishes his position from an alternative approach articulated by Thomas Jefferson . [RI.7.6] Students provide an objective summary of Frederick Douglass’s Narrative. They analyze how the central idea regarding the evils of slavery
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is conveyed through supporting ideas and developed over the course of the text. [RI.8.2] Students trace the line of argument in Winston Churchill’s “Blood, Toil, Tears and Sweat” address to Parliament and evaluate his specific claims and opinions in the text , distinguishing which claims are supported by facts, reasons, and evidence, and which are not . [RI.6.8] Students analyze in detail how the early years of Harriet Tubman (as related by author Ann Petry) contributed to her later becoming a conductor on the Underground Railroad, attending to how the author introduces, illustrates, and elaborates upon the events in Tubman’s life. [RI.6.3] Students determine the figurative and connotative meanings of words such as wayfaring , laconic ,and taciturnity as well as of phrases such as “ hold his peace” in John Steinbeck’s Travels with Charley: In Search of America. They analyze how Steinbeck’s specific word choices and diction impact the meaning and tone of his writing and the characterization of the individuals and places he describes . [RI.7.4] # Informational Texts: History/Social Studies United States. Preamble and First Amendment to the United States Constitution. (1787, 1791) Preamble We, the People of the United States, in Order to form a more perfect Union, establish Justice, insure domestic Tranquility, provide for the common defence, promote the general Welfare, and secure the Blessings of Liberty to ourselves and our Posterity, do ordain and establish this Constitution of the United States of America. Amendment I Congress shall make no law respecting the establishment of religion, or prohibiting the free exercise thereof; or abridging the freedom of speech, or of the press; or the right of people peaceably to assemble, and to petition the Government for a redress of grievances. Lord, Walter. A Night to Remember . New York: Henry Holt, 1955. (1955) APPENDIX B
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125 > OREGON COMMON CORE STATE STANDARDS FOR English Language Arts > & Literacy in History/Social Studies, Science, and Technical Subjects Isaacson, Phillip. A Short Walk through the Pyramids and through the World of Art . New York: Knopf, 1993. (1993) From Chapter 1 At Giza, a few miles north of Saqqara, sit three great pyramids, each named for the king – or Pharaoh – during whose reign it was built. No other buildings are so well known, yet the first sight of them sitting in their field is breathtaking. When you walk among them, you walk in a place made for giants. They seem too large to have been made by human beings, too perfect to have been formed by nature, and when the sun is overhead, not solid enough to be attached to the sand. In the minutes before sunrise, they are the color of faded roses, and when the last rays of the desert sun touch them, they turn to amber. But whatever the light, their broad proportions, the beauty of the limestone, and the care with which it is fitted into place create three unforgettable works of art. What do we learn about art when we look at the pyramids? First, when all of the things that go into a work – its components – complement one another, they create and object that has a certain spirit, and we can call that spirit harmony. The pyramids are harmonious because limestone, a warm, quiet material, is a cordial companion for a simple, logical, pleasing shape. In fact, the stone and the shape are so comfortable with each other that the pyramids seem inevitable – as though they were bound to have the form, color, and texture that they do have. From A SHORT WALK AROUND THE PYRAMIDS
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& THROUGH THE WORLD OF ART by Philip M. Isaacson, copyright © 1993 by Philip M. Isaacson. Used by permission of Alfred A. Knopf, an imprint of Random House Children's Books, a division of Random House, Inc. All rights reserved. Any additional use of this text, such as for classroom use or curriculum development, requires independent permission from Random House, Inc. Media Text National Geographic mini-site on the pyramids, which includes diagrams, pictures, and a time line: Murphy, Jim. The Great Fire. New York: Scholastic, 1995. (1995) From Chapter 1: “A City Ready to Burn” Chicago in 1871 was a city ready to burn. The city boasted having 59,500 buildings, many of them —such as the Courthouse and the Tribune Building —large and ornately decorated. The trouble was that about two-thirds of all these structures were made entirely of wood. Many of the remaining buildings (even the ones proclaimed to be “fireproof”) looked solid, but were actually jerry built affairs; the stone or brick exteriors hid wooden frames and floors, all topped with highly flammable tar or shingle roofs. It was also a common practice to disguise wood as another kind of building material. The fancy exterior decorations on just about every building were carved from wood, then painted to look like stone or marble. Most churches had steeples that appeared to be solid from the street, but a closer inspection would reveal a wooden framework covered with cleverly painted copper or tin. APPENDIX B 126 > OREGON COMMON CORE STATE STANDARDS FOR English Language Arts > & Literacy in History/Social Studies, Science, and Technical Subjects The situation was worst in the middle-class and poorer districts. Lot sizes were small, and owners usually filled them up with cottages, barns, sheds, and outhouses —all made of fast-burning wood, naturally. Because
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both Patrick and Catherine O’Leary worked, they were able to put a large addition on their cottage despite a lot size of just 25 by 100 feet. Interspersed in these residential areas were a variety of businesses —paint factories, lumberyards, distilleries, gasworks, mills, furniture manufacturers, warehouses, and coal distributors. Wealthier districts were by no means free of fire hazards. Stately stone and brick homes had wood interiors, and stood side by side with smaller wood-frame houses. Wooden stables and other storage buildings were common, and trees lined the streets and filled the yards. Media Text The Great Chicago Fire, an exhibit created by the Chicago Historical Society that includes essays and images: Greenberg, Jan, and Sandra Jordan. Vincent Van Gogh: Portrait of an Artist . New York: Random House, 2001. (2001)From Chapter 1: “A Brabant Boy 1853–75” I have nature and art and poetry, if that is not enough what is? —Letter to Theo, January 1874 On March 30, 1853, the handsome, soberly dressed Reverend Theodorus van Gogh entered the ancient town hall of Groot-Zundert, in the Brabant, a province of the Netherlands. He opened the birth register to number twenty-nine, where exactly one year earlier he had sadly written “Vincent Willem van Gogh, stillborn.” Beside the inscription he wrote again “Vincent Willem van Gogh,” the name of his new, healthy son, who was sleeping soundly next to his mother in the tiny parsonage across the square. The baby’s arrival was an answered prayer for the still -grieving family. The first Vincent lay buried in a tiny grave by the door of the church where Pastor van Gogh preached. The Vincent who lived grew to be a sturdy redheaded boy. Every Sunday on his way to church, young Vincent would pass the headstone carved with the name he shared.
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Did he feel as if his dead brother where the rightful Vincent, the one who would remain perfect in his parents’ hearts, and that he was merely an unsatisfactory replacement? That might have been one of the reasons he spent so much of his life feeling like a lonely outsider, a s if he didn’t fit anywhere in the world. Despite his dramatic beginning, Vincent had an ordinary childhood, giving no hint of the painter he would become. The small parsonage, with an upstairs just two windows wide under a slanting roof, quickly grew crowded. By the time he was six he had two sisters, Anna and Elizabeth, and one brother, Theo, whose gentle nature made him their mother’s favorite. Media Text The Van Gogh Gallery, a commercial Web resource with links to Van Gogh’s art and information about his life: APPENDIX B 127 > OREGON COMMON CORE STATE STANDARDS FOR English Language Arts > & Literacy in History/Social Studies, Science, and Technical Subjects Partridge, Elizabeth. This Land Was Made for You and Me: The Life and Songs of Woody Guthrie . New York: Viking, 2002. (2002) From the Preface: “Ramblin ’Round” “I hate a song that makes you think that you’re not any good. I hate a song that makes you think you are just born to lose. I am out to fight those kind of songs to my very last breath of air and my last drop of blood.” Woody Guthrie could never cure himself of wa ndering off. One minute he’d be there, the next he’d be gone, vanishing without a word to anyone, abandoning those he loved best. He’d throw on a few extra shirts, one on top of the other, sling his guitar over his shoulder, and hit the road. He’d stick ou t
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his thumb and hitchhike, swing onto moving freight trains, and hunker down with other traveling men in flophouses, hobo jungles, and Hoovervilles across Depression America. He moved restlessly from state to state, soaking up some songs: work songs, mountain and cowboy songs, sea chanteys, songs from the southern chain gangs. He added them to the dozens he already knew from his childhood until he was bursting with American folk songs. Playing the guitar and singing, he started making up new ones: hard-bitten, rough-edged songs that told it like it was, full of anger and hardship and hope and love. Woody said the best songs came to him when he was walking down a road. He always had fifteen or twenty songs running around in his mind, just waiting to be put together. Sometimes he knew the words, but not the melody. Usually he’d borrow a tune that was already well known —the simpler the better. As he walked along, he tried to catch a good, easy song that people could sing the first time they heard it, remember, and sing again later. Monk, Linda R. Words We Live By: Your Annotated Guide to the Constitution . New York: Hyperion, 2003. (2003) From “We the People … ” The first three word of the Constitution are the most important. They clearly state that the people —not the king, not the legislature, not the courts —are the true rulers in American government. This principle is known as popular sovereignty. But who are “We the People”? This question troubled the nation for centuries. As Lucy Stone, one of America’s first advocates for women’s rights, asked in 1853, “‘We the People’? Which ‘We the People’? The women were not included.” Neither were white males who did not own property, American Indians, or African Americans
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—slave or free. Justice Thurgood Marshall, the first African American on the Supreme Court, described the limitation: For a sense of the evolving nature of the Constitution, we need look no further than the first three words of the document’s preamble: ‘We the People.’ When the Founding Fathers used this phrase in 1787, they did not have in mind the majority of America’s citizens . . . The men who gathered in Philadelphia in 1787 could not . . . have imagined, nor would they have accepted, that the document they were drafting would one day be construed by a Supreme court to which had been appointed a woman and the descendant of an African slave. APPENDIX B 128 > OREGON COMMON CORE STATE STANDARDS FOR English Language Arts > & Literacy in History/Social Studies, Science, and Technical Subjects Through the Amendment process, more and more Americans were eventually included in the Constitution’s definition of “We the People.” After the Civil War, the Thirte enth Amendment ended slavery, the Fourteenth Amendment gave African Americans citizenship, and the Fifteenth Amendment gave black men the vote. In 1920, the Nineteenth Amendment gave women the right to vote nationwide, and in 1971, the Twenty-sixth Amendment extended suffrage to eighteen-year-olds. Freedman, Russell. Freedom Walkers: The Story of the Montgomery Bus Boycott . New York: Holiday House, 2006. (2006) From the Introduction: “Why They Walked” Not so long ago in Montgomery, Alabama, the color of your skin determined where you could sit on a public bus. If you happened to be an African American, you had to sit in the back of the bus, even if there were empty seats up front. Back then, racial segregation was the rule throughout the American South. Strict laws —called “Jim Crow” laws— enforced a system of white supremacy
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that discriminated against blacks and kept them in their place as second-class citizens. People were separated by race from the moment they were born in segregated hospitals until the day they were buried in segregated cemeteries. Blacks and whites did not attend the same schools, worship in the same churches, eat in the same restaurants, sleep in the same hotels, drink from the same water fountains, or sit together in the same movie theaters. In Montgomery, it was against the law for a white person and a Negro to play checkers on public property or ride together in a taxi. Most southern blacks were denied their right to vote. The biggest obstacle was the poll tax, a special tax that was required of all voters but was too costly for many blacks and for poor whites as well. Voters also had to pass a literacy test to prove that they could read, write, and understand the U.S. Constitution. These tests were often rigged to disqualify even highly educated blacks. Those who overcame the obstacles and insisted on registering as voters faced threats, harassment. And even physical violence. As a result, African Americans in the South could not express their grievances in the voting booth, which for the most part, was closed to them. But there were other ways to protest, and one day a half century ago, the black citizens in Montgomery rose up in protest and united to demand their rights —by walking peacefully. It all started on a bus. # Informational Texts: Science, Mathematics, and Technical Subjects Macaulay, David. Cathedral: The Story of Its Construction . Boston: Houghton Mifflin, 1973. (1973) From pages 51 –56 In order to construct the vaulted ceiling a wooden scaffold was erected connecting the two walls of the choir one hundred and thirty
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feet above ground. On the scaffolding wooden centerings like those used for the flying buttresses were installed. They would support the arched stone ribs until the mortar was APPENDIX B 129 > OREGON COMMON CORE STATE STANDARDS FOR English Language Arts > & Literacy in History/Social Studies, Science, and Technical Subjects dry, at which times the ribs could support themselves. The ribs carried the webbing, which was the ceiling itself. The vaults were constructed one bay at a time, a bay being the rectangular area between four piers. One by one, the cut stones of the ribs, called voussoirs, were hoisted onto the centering and mortared into place by the masons. Finally the keystone was lowered into place to lock the ribs together at the crown, the highest point of the arch. The carpenters then installed pieces of wood, called lagging, that spanned the space between two centerings. On top of the lagging the masons laid one course or layer of webbing stones. The lagging supported the course of webbing until the mortar was dry. The webbing was constructed of the lightest possible stone to lessen the weight on the ribs. Two teams, each with a mason and a carpenter, worked simultaneously from both sides of the vault – installing first the lagging, then the webbing. When they met in the center the vault was complete. The vaulting over the aisle was constructed in the same way and at the same time. When the mortar in the webbing had set, a four-inch layer of concrete was poured over the entire vault to prevent any cracking between the stones. Once the concrete had set, the lagging was removed and the centering was lowered and moved onto the scaffolding of the next bay. The procedure was repeated until eventually the entire choir
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was vaulted. Mackay, Donald. The Building of Manhattan . New York: Harper & Row, 1987. (1987) Media Text Manhattan on the Web: History, a Web portal hosted by the New York Public Library: Enzensberger, Hans Magnus. The Number Devil: A Mathematical Adventure . Illustrated by Rotraut Susanne Berner. Translated by Michael Henry Heim. New York: Henry Holt, 1998. (1998) From “The First Night” . . . “I see,” said the number devil with a wry smile. “I have nothing against your Mr. Bockel, but that kind of pro blem has nothing whatever to do with what I’m interested in. Do you want to know something? Most genuine mathematicians are bad at sums. Besides, they have no time to waste on them. That’s what pocket calculators are for. I assume you have one. “Sure, but we’re not allowed to use them in school.” “I see,” said the number devil. “That’s all right. There’s nothing wrong with a little addition and subtraction. You never know when your battery will die on you. But mathematics , my boy, that’s something else agai n!” . . . . . . “The thing that makes numbers so devilish is precisely that they are simple. And you don’t need a calculator to prove it. You need one thing and one thing only: one. With one —I am speaking of the APPENDIX B 130 > OREGON COMMON CORE STATE STANDARDS FOR English Language Arts > & Literacy in History/Social Studies, Science, and Technical Subjects numeral of course —you can do almost anything. If you are afraid of large numbers —let’s say five million seven hundred and twenty-three thousand eight hundred and twelve —all you have to do is start with 1 + 1 1+1+1 1+1+1+1 1+1+1+1+1 . . . and go on until you come to
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five million etcetera. You can’t tell me that’s too complicated for you, can you? Peterson, Ivars and Nancy Henderson. Math Trek: Adventures in the Math Zone . San Francisco: Jossey-Bass, 2000. (2000) From “Trek 7, The Fractal Pond Race” From the meanderings of a pond’s edge to the branc hing of trees and the intricate forms of snowflakes, shapes in nature are often more complicated than geometrical shapes such as circles, spheres, angles, cones, rectangles, and cubes. Benoit Mandelbrot, a mathematics professor at Yale University and an IBM fellow, was the first person to recognize how amazingly common this type of structure is in nature. In 1975, he coined the term fractal for shapes that repeat themselves within an object. The word fractal comes from the Latin term for “broken.” In 1904, long before Mandelbrot conceived of fractals, Swedish mathematician Helge von Koch created and intriguing but puzzling curve. It zigzags in such an odd pattern that it seems impossible to start at one point and follow the curve to reach another point. Lik e many figures now known to be fractals, Koch’s curve is easy to generate by starting with a simple figure and turning it into an increasingly crinkly form. What to Do 1. Draw an equilateral triangle with each side measuring 9 centimeters. (Remember, each angle of an equilateral triangle measures 60˚.) 2. Divide each 9-centimeter side into three parts, each measuring three centimeters. At the middle of each side, add an equilateral triangle one third the size of the original, facing outward. Because each side of the original triangle is 9 centimeters, the new triangles will have 3-centimeter sides. When you examine the outer edge of your diagram you should see a six-pointed star made up of 12 line segments. 3. At the middle of each
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segment of the star, add a triangle one ninth the side of the original triangle. The new triangles will have sides 1 centimeter in length so divide each 3-centimeter segment into thirds, and use the middle third to form a new triangle. 4. Going one step farther, you create a shape that begins to resemble a snowflake. If you were to continue the process by endlessly adding smaller and smaller triangles to every new side, you would APPENDIX B 131 > OREGON COMMON CORE STATE STANDARDS FOR English Language Arts > & Literacy in History/Social Studies, Science, and Technical Subjects produce the Koch snowflake curve. Between any two points, the snowflake would have an infinite number of zigzags. Katz, John. Geeks: How Two Lost Boys Rode the Internet out of Idaho . New York: Broadway Books, 2001. (2001) Jesse and Eric lived in a cave-an airless two-bedroom apartment in a dank stucco-and-brick complex on the outskirts of Caldwell. Two doors down, chickens paraded around the street. The apartment itself was dominated by two computers that sat across from the front door like twin shrines. Everything else-the piles of dirty laundry, the opened Doritos bags, the empty cans of generic soda pop, two ratty old chairs, and a moldering beanbag chair-was dispensable, an afterthought, props. Jesse's computer was a Pentium 11 300, Asus P2B (Intel BX chipset) motherboard; a Matrix Milleniurn II AGP; 160 MB SDRAM with a 15.5 GB total hard-drive space; a 4X CD-recorder; 24X CD-ROM; a 17-inch Micron monitor. Plus a scanner and printer. A well-thumbed paperback-Katherine Dunn's novel Geek Love-served as his mousepad. Eric's computer: an AMD K-6 233 with a generic motherboard; an S3 video card, a 15-inch monitor; a 2.5 GB hard drive with 36 MB SDRAM. Jesse wangled the parts for both from work.
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They stashed their bikes and then Jesse blasted in through the door, which was always left open since he can never hang on to keys, and went right to his PC, which was always on. He yelled a question to Eric about the new operating system. "We change them like cartons of milk," he explained. At the moment, he had NT 5, NT 4, Work Station, Windows 98, and he and Eric had begun fooling around with Linux, the complex, open-source software system rapidly spreading across the world. Petroski, Henry. “The Evolution of the Grocery Bag.” American Scholar 72.4 (Autumn 2003). (2003) That much-reviled bottleneck known as the American supermarket checkout lane would be an even greater exercise in frustration were it not for several technological advances. The Universal Product Code and the decoding laser scanner, introduced in 1974, tally a shopper’s groceries far more quickly and accurately than the old method of inputting each purchase manually into a cash register. But beeping a large order past the scanner would have led only to a faster pileup of cans and boxes down the line, where the bagger works, had it not been for the introduction, more than a century earlier, of an even greater technological masterpiece: the square-bottomed paper bag. The geometry of paper bags continues to hold a magical appeal for those of us who are fascinated by how ordinary things are designed and made. Originally, grocery bags were created on demand by storekeepers, who cut, folded, and pasted sheets of paper, making versatile containers into which purchases could be loaded for carrying home. The first paper bags manufactured commercially are said to have been made in Bristol, England, in the 1840s. I n 1852, a “Machine for Making Bags of Paper” was patented in America by Francis Wolle,
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of Bethlehem, Pennsylvania. According to Wolle’s own description of the machine’s operation, “pieces of paper of suitable length are given out from a roll of the required width, cut off from the roll and otherwise suitably cut to the required shape, folded, their APPENDIX B 132 > OREGON COMMON CORE STATE STANDARDS FOR English Language Arts > & Literacy in History/Social Studies, Science, and Technical Subjects edges pasted and lapped, and formed into complete and perfect bags.” The “perfect bags” produced at the rate of eighteen hundred per hour by Wolle’s machine were , of course, not perfect, nor was his machine. The history of design has yet to see the development of a perfect object, though it has seen many satisfactory ones and many substantially improved ones. The concept of comparative improvement is embedded in the paradigm for invention, the better mousetrap. No one is ever likely to lay claim to a “best” mousetrap, for that would preclude the inventor himself from coming up with a still better mousetrap without suffering the embarrassment of having previously declared the search complete. As with the mousetrap, so with the bag. “Geology.” U*X*L Encyclopedia of Science . Edited by Rob Nagel. Farmington Hills, Mich.: Gale Cengage Learning, 2007. (2007) Geology is the scientific study of Earth. Geologists study the planet —its formation, its internal structure, its materials, its chemical and physical processes, and its history. Mountains, valleys, plains, sea floors, minerals, rocks, fossils, and the processes that create and destroy each of these are all the domain of the geologist. Geology is divided into two broad categories of study: physical geology and historical geology. Physical geology is concerned with the processes occurring on or below the surface of Earth and the materials on which they operate. These processes include volcanic eruptions, landslides,
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earthquakes, and floods. Materials include rocks, air, seawater, soils, and sediment. Physical geology further divides into more specific branches, each of which deals with its own part of Earth’s materials, landforms, and processes. Mineralogy and petrology investigate the composition and origin of minerals and rocks. Volcanologists study lava, rocks, and gases on live, dormant, and extinct volcanoes. Seismologists use instruments to monitor and predict earthquakes and volcanic eruptions. Historical geology is concerned with the chronology of events, both physical and biological, that have taken place in Earth’s history. Paleontologists study fossils (remains of ancient life) for evidence of the evolution of life on Earth. Fossils not only relate evolution, but also speak of the environment in which the organism lived. Corals in rocks at the top of the Grand Canyon in Arizona, for example, show a shallow sea flooded the area around 290 million years ago. In addition, by determining the ages and types of rocks around the world, geologists piece together continental and oceanic history over the past few billion years. Plate tectonics (the study of the movement of the sections of Earth’s crust) adds to Earth’s stor y with details of the changing configuration of the continents and oceans. From UXL ENCY SKI V10, 2E. © Gale, a part of Cengage Learning, Inc. Reproduced by permission. “Space Probe.” Astronomy & Space: From the Big Bang to the Big Crunch . Edited by Phillis Engelbert. Farmington Hills, Mich.: Gale Cengage Learning, 2009. (2009) A space probe is an unpiloted spacecraft that leaves Earth’s orbit to explore the Moon, planets, asteroids, comets, or other objects in outer space as directed by onboard computers and/or instructions send from Earth. The purpose of such missions is to make scientific observations, such as taking pictures, measuring atmospheric conditions, and collecting soil samples, and
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to bring or report the data back to Earth. APPENDIX B 133 > OREGON COMMON CORE STATE STANDARDS FOR English Language Arts > & Literacy in History/Social Studies, Science, and Technical Subjects Numerous space probes have been launched since the former Soviet Union first fired Luna 1 toward the Moon in 1959. Probes have now visited each of the eight planets in the solar system. In fact, two probes —Voyager 1 and Voyager 2 —are approaching the edge of the solar system, for their eventual trip into the interstellar medium. By January 2008 Voyager 1 was about 9.4 billion miles (15.2 billion kilometers) from the Sun and in May 2008 it entered the heliosheath (the boundary where the solar wind is thought to end), which is the area that roughly divides the solar system from interstellar space. Voyager 2 is not quite as far as its sister probe. Voyager 1 is expected to be the first human space probe to leave the solar system. Both Voyager probes are still transmitting signals back to Earth. They are expected to help gather further information as to the true boundary of the solar system. The earliest probes traveled to the closest extraterrestrial target, the Moon. The former Soviet Union launched a series of Luna probes that provided humans with first pictures of the far side of the Moon. In 1966, Luna 9 made the first successful landing on the Moon and sent back television footage from the Moon’s surface. The National Aeronautics and Space Administration (NASA) initially made several unsuccessful attempts to send a probe to the Moon. Not until 1964 did a Ranger probe reach its mark and send back thousands of pictures. Then, a few months after Luna 9 , NASA landed Surveyor on the Moon. In the meantime, NASA was
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moving ahead with the first series of planetary probes, called Mariner. Mariner 2 first reached the planet Venus in 1962. Later Mariner spacecrafts flew by Mars in 1964 and 1969, providing detailed images of that planet. In 1971, Mariner 9 became the first spacecraft to orbit Mars. During its year in orbit, Mariner 9 's two television cameras transmitted footage of an intense Martian dust storm, as well as images of 90 percent of the planet's surface and the two Martian natural satellites (moons). Encounters were also made with Mars in 1976 by the U.S. probes Viking 1 and Viking 2 . Each Viking spacecraft consisted of both an orbiter and a lander. Viking 1 made the first successful soft landing on Mars on July 20, 1976. Soon after, Viking 2 landed on the opposite side of the planet. The Viking orbiters made reports on the Martian weather and photographed almost the entire surface of the planet. From ASTRONOMY & SPACE V2, 1E. © 1997 Gale, a part of Cengage Learning, Inc. Reproduced by permission. “Elementary Particles.” New Book of Popular Science . New York: Scholastic, 2010. (2010) California Invasive Plant Council. Invasive Plant Inventory . 2006-2010. (2010) The Inventory categorizes plants as High, Moderate, or Limited, reflecting the level of each species' negative ecological impact in California. Other factors, such as economic impact or difficulty of management, are not included in this assessment. It is important to note that even Limited species are invasive and should be of concern to land managers. Although the impact of each plant varies regionally, its rating represents cumulative impacts statewide. Therefore, a plant whose statewide impacts are categorized as Limited may have more severe impacts in a particular region. Conversely, a plant categorized as having a High cumulative impact across California may
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have very little impact in some regions. APPENDIX B 134 > OREGON COMMON CORE STATE STANDARDS FOR English Language Arts > & Literacy in History/Social Studies, Science, and Technical Subjects The Inventory Review Committee, Cal-IPC staff, and volunteers drafted assessments for each plant based on the formal criteria system described below. The committee solicited information from land managers across the state to complement the available literature. Assessments were released for public review before the committee finalized them. The 2006 list includes 39 High species, 65 Moderate species, and 89 Limited species. Additional information, including updated observations, will be added to this website periodically, with revisions tracked and dated. Definitions The Inventory categorizes "invasive non-native plants that threaten wildlands" according to the definitions below. Plants were evaluated only if they invade California wildlands with native habitat values. The Inventory does not include plants found solely in areas of human-caused disturbance such as roadsides and cultivated agricultural fields. Wildlands are public and private lands that support native ecosystems, including some working landscapes such as grazed rangeland and active timberland. Non-native plants are species introduced to California after European contact and as a direct or indirect result of human activity. Invasive non-native plants that threaten wildlands are plants that 1) are not native to, yet can spread into, wildland ecosystems, and that also 2) displace native species, hybridize with native species, alter biological communities, or alter ecosystem processes. # Sample Performance Tasks for Informational Texts: History/Social Studies & Science, Mathematics, and Technical Subjects Students analyze the governmental structure of the United States and support their analysis by citing specific textual evidence from primary sources such as the Preamble and First Amendment of the U.S. Constitution as well as secondary sources such as Linda R . Monk’s Words We Live By: Your Annotated Guide
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to the Constitution. [RH.6 –8.1] Students evaluate Jim Murphy’s The Great Fire to identify which aspects of the text (e.g., loaded language and the inclusion of particular facts ) reveal his purpose; presenting Chicago as a city that was “ready to burn.” * RH.6 –8.6] Students describe how Russell Freedman in his book Freedom Walkers: The Story of the Montgomery Bus Boycott integrates and presents information both sequentially and causally to explain how the civil rights movement began . [RH.6 –8.5] Students integrate the quantitative or technical information expressed in the text of David Macaulay’s Cathedral: The Story of Its Construction with the information conveyed by the diagrams and models Macaulay provides , developing a deeper understanding of Gothic architecture. [RST.6 –8.7] Students construct a holistic picture of the history of Manhattan by comparing and contrasting the information gained from Donald Mackay’s The Building of Manhattan with the multimedia sources available on the “Manhattan on the Web” portal hosted by the New York Public Library ( ). [RST.6 –8.9] Students learn about fractal geometry by reading Ivars Peterson and Nancy Henderson’s Math Trek: Adventures in the Math Zone and then generate their own fractal geometric structure by following the multistep procedure for creating a Koch’s curve. * RST.6 –8.3] APPENDIX B 135 > OREGON COMMON CORE STATE STANDARDS FOR English Language Arts > & Literacy in History/Social Studies, Science, and Technical Subjects # Grades 9 –10 Text Exemplars # Stories Homer. The Odyssey . Translated by Robert Fagles. New York: Viking, 1996. (8th century BCE) From Book One Sing to me of the man, Muse, the man of twists and turns driven time and again off course, once he had plundered the hallowed heights of Troy. Many cities of men he saw and learned their minds, many pains he suffered,
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heartsick on the open sea, fighting to save his life and bring his comrades home. But he could not save them from disaster, hard as he strove — the recklessness of their own ways destroyed them all, the blind fools, they devoured the cattle of the Sun and the Sungod blotted out the day of their return. Launch out on his story, Muse, daughter of Zeus. Start from where you will —sing for our time too. By now, all the survivors, all who avoided headlong death were safe at home, escaped the wars and waves. But one man alone… his heart set on his wife and his return —Calypso, the bewitching nymph, the lustrous goddess, held him back, deep in her arching caverns, craving him for a husband. But then, when the wheeling seasons brought the year around. That year spun out by the gods when he should reach his home, Ithaca —though not even there would he be free of trials, even among his loved ones —then every god took pity, all except Poseidon. He raged on, seething against the great Odysseus till he reached his native land. “Book 1: Athena Inspires the Prince” by Homer, from THE ODYSSEY by Homer, translated by Robert Fagles, copyright © 1996 by Robert Fagles. Used by permission of Viking Penguin, a division of Penguin group (USA) Inc. Ovid. Metamorphoses . Translated by A. S. Kline. Ann Arbor: Borders Classics, 2004 (AD 8). From “Daphne” ‘Wait nymph, daughter of Peneus , I beg you! I who am chasing you am not your enemy. Nymph, Wait! This is the way a sheep runs from the wolf, a deer from the mountain lion, and a dove with fluttering wings flies from the eagle: everything flies from its foes, but it is love that is driving
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me to follow you! Pity me! I am afraid you might fall headlong or thorns undeservedly scar your legs and I be a cause of grief to you! These are rough places you run through. Slow down, I ask you, check your flight, and I too will slow. At least enquire whom it is APPENDIX B 136 > OREGON COMMON CORE STATE STANDARDS FOR English Language Arts > & Literacy in History/Social Studies, Science, and Technical Subjects you have charmed. I am no mountain man, no shepherd, no rough guardian of the herds and flocks. Rash girl, you do not know, you cannot realise, who you run from, and so you run. Delphi ’s lands are mine, Claros and Tenedos , and Patara acknowledges me king. Jupiter is my father. Through me what was, what is, and what will be, are revealed. Through me strings sound in harmony, to song. My aim is certain, but an arrow truer than mine, has wounded my free heart! The whole world calls me the bringer of aid; medicine is my invention; my power is in herbs. But love cannot be healed by any herb, nor can the arts that cure others cure their lord!’ He would have said more as timid Peneïs ran, still lovely to see, leaving him with his words unfinished. The winds bared her body, the opposing breezes in her way fluttered her clothes, and the light airs threw her streaming hair behind her, her beauty enhanced by flight. But the young god could no longer waste time on further blandishments, urged on by Amor , he ran on at full speed. Like a hound of Gaul starting a hare in an empty field, that heads for its prey, she for safety: he, seeming about to clutch her, thinks now,
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or now, he has her fast, grazing her heels with his outstretched jaws, while she uncertain whether she is already caught, escaping his bite, spurts from the muzzle touching her. So the virgin and the god: he driven by desire, she by fear. He ran faster, Amor giving him wings, and allowed her no rest, hung on her fleeing shoulders, breathed on the hair flying round her neck. Her strength was gone, she grew pale, overcome by the effort of her rapid flight, and seeing Peneus’s waters near cried out ‘He lp me father! If your streams have divine powers change me, destroy this beauty that pleases too well!’ Her prayer was scarcely done when a heavy numbness seized her limbs, thin bark closed over her breast, her hair turned into leaves, her arms into branches, her feet so swift a moment ago stuck fast in slow-growing roots, her face was lost in the canopy. Only her shining beauty was left. Even like this Phoebus loved her and, placing his hand against the trunk, he felt her heart still quivering under the new bark. He clasped the branches as if they were parts of human arms, and kissed the wood. But even the wood shrank from his kisses, and the god said ‘Since you cannot be my bride, you must be my tree! Laurel, with you my hair will be wreathed, with you my lyre, with you my quiver. You will go with the Roman generals when joyful voices acclaim their triumph, and the Capitol witnesses their long processions. You will stand outside Augustus’s doorposts, a faithful guardian, and keep watch over the crown of oak between them. And just as my head with its un-cropped hair is always young, so you also will wear the beauty of undying leaves.’
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Paea n had done: the laurel bowed her newly made branches, and seemed to shake her leafy crown like a head giving consent. Gogol, Nikolai. “The Nose.” Translated by Ronald Wilks. Diary of a Madman, and Other Stories. New York: Penguin, 1972. (1836) An extraordinarily strange thing happened in St. Petersburg on 25 March. Ivan Yakovlevich, a barber who lived on Voznesensky Avenue (his surname has got lost and all that his shop-front signboard shows is a gentleman with a lathered cheek and the inscription ‘We also let blood’) woke up rather e arly one morning and smelt hot bread. As he sat up in bed he saw his wife, who was a quite respectable lady and a great coffee-drinker, taking some freshly baked rolls out of the oven. APPENDIX B 137 > OREGON COMMON CORE STATE STANDARDS FOR English Language Arts > & Literacy in History/Social Studies, Science, and Technical Subjects ‘I don’t want any coffee today, Praskovya Osipovna,’ said Ivan Yakovlevich. ‘I’ll make do with some hot rolls and onion instead.’ (Here I must explain that Ivan Yakovlevich would really have liked to have had some coffee as well, but knew it was quite out of the question to expect both coffee and rolls, since Praskovya Osipov na did not take very kindly to these whims of his.) ‘Let the old fool have his bread, I don’t mind,’ she thought. ‘That means extra coffee for me!’ And she threw a roll on to the table. Ivan pulled his frock-coat over his nightshirt for decency’s sake, sat down at the table, poured out some salt, peeled two onions, took a knife and with a determined expression on his face started cutting one of the rolls. When he had sliced the roll in two, he peered into the middle and
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was amazed to see something white the re. Ivan carefully picked at it with his knife, and felt it with his finger. ‘Quite thick,’ he said to himself. ‘What on earth can it be?’ He poked two fingers in and pulled out —a nose! He flopped back in his chair, and began rubbing his eyes and feeling around in the roll again. Yes, it was a nose all right, no mistake about that. And, what’s more, it seemed a very familiar nose. His face filled with horror. But this horror was nothing compared with his wife’s indignation. ‘You beast, whose nose is that you’ve cut off?’ she cried furiously. ‘You scoundrel! You drunkard! I’ll report it to the police myself, I will. You thief! Come to think of it, I’ve heard three customers say that when they come in for a shave you start pulling their noses about so much it’ s a wonder they stay on at all!’ But Ivan felt more dead than alive. He knew that the nose belonged to none other than Collegiate Assessor Kovalyov, whom he shaved on Wednesdays and Sundays. ‘Wait a minute, Praskovya! I’ll wrap it up in a piece of cloth and dump it in the corner. Let’s leave it there for a bit, then I’ll try and get rid of it.’ ‘I don’t want to know! Do you think I’m going to let a sawn -off nose lie about in my room ... you fathead! All you can do is strop that blasted razor of yours and let everything else go to pot. Layabout! Night-bird! And you expect me to cover up for you with the police! You filthy pig! Blockhead! Get that nose out of here, out! Do what you like with it, but I don’t want that thing hanging
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around here a minute longer!’ Ivan Yakovlevich was absolutely stunned. He thought and thought, but just didn’t know what to make of it. ‘I’m damned if I know what’s happened!’ he said at last, scratching the back of his ear. ‘I can’t say for certain if I came home drunk or not last ni ght. All I know is, it’s crazy. After all, bread is baked in an oven, and you don’t get noses in bakeries. Can’t make head or tail of it! ...’ Ivan Yakovlevich lapsed into silence. The thought that the police might search the place, find the nose and afterwards bring a charge against him, very nearly sent him out of his mind. Already he could see that scarlet collar beautifully embroidered with silver, that sword ... and he began shaking all over. APPENDIX B 138 > OREGON COMMON CORE STATE STANDARDS FOR English Language Arts > & Literacy in History/Social Studies, Science, and Technical Subjects Finally he put on his scruffy old trousers and shoes and wi th Praskovya Osipovna’s vigorous invective ringing in his ears, wrapped the nose up in a piece of cloth and went out into the street. All he wanted was to stuff it away somewhere, either hiding it between two curb-stones by someone’s front door or else ‘accidentally’ dropping it and slinking off down a side street. But as luck would have it, he kept bumping into friends, who would insist on asking: ‘Where are you off to?’ or ‘It’s a bit early for shaving customers, isn’t it?’ with the result that he didn’t have a chance to get rid of it. Once he did manage to drop it, but a policeman pointed with his halberd and said: ‘Pick that up! Can’t you see you dropped something!’ And Ivan Yakovlevich had
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to pick it up and hide it in his pocket. Despair gripped him, especially as the streets were getting more and more crowded now as the shops and stalls began to open. He decided to make his way to St. Isaac’s Bridge and see if he could throw the nose into the River Neva without anyone seeing him. But here I am rather at fault for not telling you before something about Ivan Yakovlevich, who in many ways was a man you could respect. Voltaire, F.A.M. Candide, Or The Optimist . Translated by H. Morley. London: George Routledge and Sons, Ltd., 1888. (1759) In the country of Westphalia, in the castle of the most noble Baron of Thunder-ten-tronckh, lived a youth whom Nature had endowed with a most sweet disposition. His face was the true index of his mind. He had a solid judgment joined to the most unaffected simplicity; and hence, I presume, he had his name of Candide. The old servants of the house suspected him to have been the son of the Baron's sister, by a very good sort of a gentleman of the neighborhood, whom that young lady refused to marry, because he could produce no more than threescore and eleven quarterings in his arms; the rest of the genealogical tree belonging to the family having been lost through the injuries of time. The Baron was one of the most powerful lords in Westphalia, for his castle had not only a gate, but even windows, and his great hall was hung with tapestry. He used to hunt with his mastiffs and spaniels instead of greyhounds; his groom served him for huntsman; and the parson of the parish officiated as his grand almoner. He was called "My Lord" by all his people, and he never told a
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story but everyone laughed at it. My Lady Baroness, who weighed three hundred and fifty pounds, consequently was a person of no small consideration; and then she did the honors of the house with a dignity that commanded universal respect. Her daughter was about seventeen years of age, fresh-colored, comely, plump, and desirable. The Baron's son seemed to be a youth in every respect worthy of the father he sprung from. Pangloss, the preceptor, was the oracle of the family, and little Candide listened to his instructions with all the simplicity natural to his age and disposition. Master Pangloss taught the metaphysico-theologo-cosmolo-nigology. He could prove to admiration that there is no effect without a cause; and, that in this best of all possible worlds, the Baron's castle was the most magnificent of all castles, and My Lady the best of all possible baronesses. "It is demonstrable," said he, "that things cannot be otherwise than as they are; for as all things have been created for some end, they must necessarily be created for the best end. Observe, for instance, APPENDIX B 139 > OREGON COMMON CORE STATE STANDARDS FOR English Language Arts > & Literacy in History/Social Studies, Science, and Technical Subjects the nose is formed for spectacles, therefore we wear spectacles. The legs are visibly designed for stockings, accordingly we wear stockings. Stones were made to be hewn and to construct castles, therefore My Lord has a magnificent castle; for the greatest baron in the province ought to be the best lodged. Swine were intended to be eaten, therefore we eat pork all the year round: and they, who assert that everything is right, do not express themselves correctly; they should say that everything is best." Candide listened attentively and believed implicitly, for he thought Miss Cunegund excessively handsome,
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though he never had the courage to tell her so. He concluded that next to the happiness of being Baron of Thunder-ten-tronckh, the next was that of being Miss Cunegund, the next that of seeing her every day, and the last that of hearing the doctrine of Master Pangloss, the greatest philosopher of the whole province, and consequently of the whole world. One day when Miss Cunegund went to take a walk in a little neighboring wood which was called a park, she saw, through the bushes, the sage Doctor Pangloss giving a lecture in experimental philosophy to her mother's chambermaid, a little brown wench, very pretty, and very tractable. As Miss Cunegund had a great disposition for the sciences, she observed with the utmost attention the experiments which were repeated before her eyes; she perfectly well understood the force of the doctor's reasoning upon causes and effects. She retired greatly flurried, quite pensive and filled with the desire of knowledge, imagining that she might be a sufficing reason for young Candide, and he for her. In her way back she happened to meet the young man; she blushed, he blushed also; she wished him a good morning in a flattering tone, he returned the salute, without knowing what he said. The next day, as they were rising from dinner, Cunegund and Candide slipped behind the screen. The miss dropped her handkerchief, the young man picked it up. She innocently took hold of his hand, and he as innocently kissed hers with a warmth, a sensibility, a grace-all very particular; their lips met; their eyes sparkled; their knees trembled; their hands strayed. The Baron chanced to come by; he beheld the cause and effect, and, without hesitation, saluted Candide with some notable kicks on the breech and drove him out
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of doors. The lovely Miss Cunegund fainted away, and, as soon as she came to herself, the Baroness boxed her ears. Thus a general consternation was spread over this most magnificent and most agreeable of all possible castles. Turgenev, Ivan. Fathers and Sons . Translated by Constance Garnett. New York: Dover, 1998. (1862) "WELL, Piotr, not in sight yet?" was the question asked on May the 20th, 1859, by a gentleman of a little over forty, in a dusty coat and checked trousers, who came out without his hat on to the low steps of the posting station at S---. He was addressing his servant, a chubby young fellow, with whitish down on his chin, and little, lack-lustre eyes. The servant, in whom everything--the turquoise ring in his ear, the streaky hair plastered with grease, and the civility of his movements--indicated a man of the new, unproved generation, glanced with an air of indulgence along the road, and made answer: "No, sir; not in sight." APPENDIX B 140 > OREGON COMMON CORE STATE STANDARDS FOR English Language Arts > & Literacy in History/Social Studies, Science, and Technical Subjects "Not in sight?" repeated his master. "No, sir," responded the man a second time. His master sighed, and sat down on a little bench. We will introduce him to the reader while he sits, his feet tucked under him, gazing thoughtfully round. His name was Nikolai Petrovitch Kirsanov. He had twelve miles from the posting station, a fine property of two hundred souls, or, as he expressed it--since he had arranged the division of his land with the peasants, and started a ‘f arm ’--of nearly five thousand acres. His father, a general in the army, who served in 1812, a coarse, half-educated, but not ill-natured man, a typical Russian, had been
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in harness all his life, first in command of a brigade, and then of a division, and lived constantly in the provinces, where, by virtue of his rank, he played a fairly important part. Nikolai Petrovitch was born in the south of Russia like his elder brother, Pavel, of whom more hereafter. He was educated at home till he was fourteen, surrounded by cheap tutors, free-and-easy but toadying adjutants, and all the usual regimental and staff set. His mother, one of the Kolyazin family, as a girl called Agathe, but as a general's wife Agathokleya Kuzminishna Kirsanov, was one of those military ladies who take their full share of the duties and dignities of office. She wore gorgeous caps and rustling silk dresses; in church she was the first to advance to the cross; she talked a great deal in a loud voice, let her children kiss her hand in the morning, and gave them her blessing at night--in fact, she got everything out of life she could. Nikolai Petrovitch, as a general's son--though so far from being distinguished by courage that he even deserved to be called ‘a funk ’--was intended, like his brother Pavel, to enter the army; but he broke his leg on the very day when the news of his commission came, and, after being two months in bed, retained a slight limp to the end of his day. His father gave him up as a bad job, and let him go into the civil service. He took him to Petersburg directly he was eighteen, and placed him in the university. His brother happened about the same time to be made an officer in the Guards. The young men started living together in one set of rooms, under the remote supervision of a cousin on their
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mother's side, Ilya Kolyazin, an official of high rank. Their father returned to his division and his wife, and only rarely sent his sons large sheets of grey paper, scrawled over in a bold clerkly hand. At the bottom of these sheets stood in letters, enclosed carefully in scroll-work, the words, "Piotr Kirsanov, General-Major." Henry, O. “The Gift of the Magi.” The Best Short Stories of O. Henry . New York: Modern Library, 1994. (1906) White fingers and nimble tore at the string and paper. And then an ecstatic scream of joy; and then, alas! a quick feminine change to hysterical tears and wails, necessitating the immediate employment of all the comforting powers of the lord of the flat. For there lay The Combs —the set of combs, side and back, that Della had worshipped long in a Broadway window. Beautiful combs, pure tortoise shell, with jewelled rims —just the shade to wear in the beautiful vanished hair. They were expensive combs, she knew, and her heart had simply craved and yearned over them without the least hope of possession. And now, they were hers, but the tresses that should have adorned the coveted adornments were gone. But she hugged them to her bosom, and at length she was able to look up with dim eyes and a smile and say: “My hair grows so fast, Jim!” APPENDIX B 141 > OREGON COMMON CORE STATE STANDARDS FOR English Language Arts > & Literacy in History/Social Studies, Science, and Technical Subjects And then Della leaped up like a little singed cat and cried, “Oh, oh!” Jim had not yet seen his beautiful present. She held it out to him eagerly upon her open palm. The dull precious metal seemed to flash with a reflection of her bright and ardent spirit. “Isn’t
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it a dandy, Jim? I hunted all over town to find it. You’ll have to look at the time a hundred times a day now. Give me your watch. I want to see how i t looks on it.” Instead of obeying, Jim tumbled down on the couch and put his hands under the back of his head and smiled. “Dell,” said he, “let’s put our Christmas presents away and keep ‘em a while. They’re too nice to use just at present. I sold the watch to get the money to buy your combs. And now suppose you put the chops on.” The magi, as you know, were wise men —wonderfully wise men —who brought gifts to the Babe in the manger. They invented the art of giving Christmas presents. Being wise, their gifts were no doubt wise ones, possibly bearing the privilege of exchange in case of duplication. And here I have lamely related to you the uneventful chronicle of two foolish children in a flat who most unwisely sacrificed for each other the greatest treasures of their house. But in a last word to the wise of these days let it be said that of all who give gifts these two were the wisest. Of all who give and receive gifts, such as they are wisest. Everywhere they are wisest. They are the magi. Kafka, Franz. The Metamorphosis . Translated by Stanley Corngold. New York: Bantam, 1972. (1915) When Gregor Samsa woke up one morning from unsettling dreams, he found himself changed in his bed into a monstrous vermin. He was lying on his back as hard as armor plate, and when he lifted his head a little, he saw his vaulted brown belly, sectioned by arch-shaped ribs, to whose dome the cover, about to slide off completely,
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could barely cling. His many legs, pitifully thin compared with the size of the rest of him, were waving helplessly before his eyes. "What's happened to me?" he thought. It was no dream. His room, a regular human room, only a little on the small side, lay quiet between the four familiar walls. Over the table, on which an unpacked line of fabric samples was all spread out--Samsa was a traveling salesman--hung the picture which he had recently cut out of a glossy magazine and lodged in a pretty gilt frame. It showed a lady done up in a fur hat and a fur boa, sitting upright and raising up against the viewer a heavy fur muff in which her whole forearm had disappeared. Gregor's eyes then turned to the window, and the overcast weather--he could hear raindrops hitting against the metal window ledge--completely depressed him. "How about going back to sleep for a few minutes and forgetting all this nonsense," he thought, but that was completely impracticable, since he was used to sleeping on his right side and in his present state could not get into that position. No matter how hard he threw himself onto his right side, he always rocked onto his back again. He must have tried it a hundred times, closing his eyes so as not to have to see his squirming legs, and stopped only when he began to feel a slight, dull pain in his side, which he had never felt before. APPENDIX B 142 > OREGON COMMON CORE STATE STANDARDS FOR English Language Arts > & Literacy in History/Social Studies, Science, and Technical Subjects Steinbeck, John. The Grapes of Wrath . New York: Viking, 1967. (1939) From Chapter 15 The man took off his dark, stained hat and stood with a curious
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humility in front of the screen. “Could you see your way to sell us a loaf of bread, ma’am?” Mae said, “This ain’t a grocery store. We got bread to make san’widges.” “I know, ma’am.” His humility was insistent. “We need bread and there ain’t nothin’ for quite a piece, they say.” “‘F we sell bread we gonna run out.” Mae’s tone was faltering. “We’re hungry,” the man said. “Whyn’t you buy a san’widge? We got nice san’widges, hamburgs.” “We’d sure admire to do that, ma’am. But we can’t. We got to make a dime do all of us.” And he said embarrassedly, “We ain’t got but a little.” Mae said, “You can’t get no loaf a bread for a dime. We only got fifteen-cent loafs.” From behind her Al growled, “God Almighty, Mae, give ‘em bread.” “We’ll run out ‘fore the bread truck comes.” “Run out then, goddamn it,” said Al. He looked sullenly down at the potato salad he was mix ing. Mae shrugged her plump shoulders and looked to the truck drivers to show them what she was up against. She held the screen door open and the man came in, bringing a smell of sweat with him. The boys edged behind him and they went immediately to the candy case and stared in —not with craving or with hope or even with desire, but just with a kind of wonder that such things could be. They were alike in size and their faces were alike. One scratched his dusty ankle with the toe nails of his other foot. The other whispered some soft message and then they straightened their arms so that their clenched fists in the overall pockets showed through the thin blue cloth. Mae opened a drawer and took out a long waxpaper-wrapped loaf.
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{
"page_id": null,
"source": 6820,
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“This here is a fifteen -cent l oaf.” The man put his hat back on his head. He answered with inflexible humility, “Won’t you—can’t you see your way to cut off ten cents’ worth?” Al said snarlingly, “Goddamn it, Mae. Give ‘em the loaf.” APPENDIX B 143 > OREGON COMMON CORE STATE STANDARDS FOR English Language Arts > & Literacy in History/Social Studies, Science, and Technical Subjects The man turned toward Al. “No, we want ta buy ten cents’ worth of it. We got it figgered awful close, mister, to get to California.” Mae said resignedly, “You can have this for ten cents.” “That’d be robbin’ you, ma’am.” “Go ahead—Al says to take it.” She pushed the waxpapered loaf across the counter. The man took a deep leather pouch from his rear pocket, untied the strings, and spread it open. It was heavy with silver and with greasy bills. “May soun’ funny to be so tight,” he apologized. “We got a thousan’ miles to go, an’ we don’ know if we’ll make it.” He dug in the pouch with a forefinger, located a dime, and pinched in for it. When he put it down on the counter he had a penny with it. He was about to drop the penny back into the pouch when his eye fell on the boys frozen before the candy counter. He moved slowly down to them. He pointed in the case at big long sticks of striped peppermint. “Is them penny candy, ma’am?” Mae moved down and looked in. “Which ones?” “There, them stripy ones.” The little boys raised their eyes to her face and they stopped breathing; their mouths were partly opened, their half-naked bodies were rigid. “Oh— them. Well, no —them’s two for a penny.” “Well, gimme two then, ma’am.” He placed
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{
"page_id": null,
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the copper cent carefully on the counter. The boys expelled their held breath softly. Mae held the big sticks out. Bradbury, Ray. Fahrenheit 451 . New York: Ballantine, 1987. (1953) From Part 1: “The Hearth and the Salamander” It was a pleasure to burn. It was a special pleasure to see things eaten, to see things blackened and changed . With the brass nozzle in his fists, with this great python spitting its venomous kerosene upon the world, the blood pounded in his head, and his hands were the hands of some amazing conductor playing all the symphonies of blazing and burning to bring down the tatters and charcoal ruins of history. With his symbolic helmet numbered 451 on his stolid head, and his eyes all orange flame with the thought of what came next, he flicked the igniter and the house jumped up in a gorging fire that burned the evening sky red and yellow and black. He strode in a swarm of fireflies. He wanted above all, like the old joke, to shove a marshmallow on a stick in the furnace, while the flapping pigeon-winged books died on the porch and lawn of the house. While the books went up in sparkling whirls and blew away on a wind turned dark with burning. Montag grinned the fierce grin of all men singed and driven back by flame. APPENDIX B 144 > OREGON COMMON CORE STATE STANDARDS FOR English Language Arts > & Literacy in History/Social Studies, Science, and Technical Subjects He knew that when he returned to the firehouse, he might wink at himself, a minstrel man, burnt-corked, in the mirror. Later, going to sleep, he would feel the fiery smile still gripped by his face muscles, in the dark. It never went away, that smile, it never
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{
"page_id": null,
"source": 6820,
"title": "from dpo"
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ever went away, as long as he remembered. Olsen, Tillie. “I Stand Here Ironing.” Tell Me a Riddle . New York: Dell, 1956. (1956) From “I Stand Here Ironing” I stand here ironing, and what you asked me moves tormented back and forth with the iron. “I wish you would manage the time to come in and talk with me about your daughter. I’m sure you can help me u nderstand her. She’s a youngster who needs help and whom I’m deeply interested in helping.” “Who needs help”…Even if I came, what good would it do? You think because I am her mother I have a key, or that in some way you could use me as a key? She has lived for nineteen years. There is all that like that has happened outside of me, beyond me. And when is there time to remember, to sift, to weigh, to estimate, to total? I will start and there will be an interruption and I will have to gather it all together again. Or I will become engulfed with all I did or did not do, with what should have been and what cannot be helped. She was a beautiful baby. The first and only one of our five that was beautiful at birth. You do not guess how new and uneasy her tenancy in her now-loveliness. You did not know her all those years she was thought homely, or see her peering over her baby pictures, making me tell her over and over how beautiful she had been —and would be, I would tell her —and was now, to the seeing eye. But the seeing eyes were few or non-existent. Including mine. Achebe, Chinua. Things Fall Apart . New York: Anchor, 1994. (1958) Okonkwo was well known throughout the nine
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{
"page_id": null,
"source": 6820,
"title": "from dpo"
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villages and even beyond. His fame rested on solid personal achievements. As a young man of eighteen he had brought honor to his village by throwing Amalinze the Cat. Amalinze was the great wrestler who for seven years was unbeaten, from Umuofia to Mbaino. He was called the Cat because his back would never touch the earth. It was this man that Okonkwo threw in a fight which the old men agreed was one of the fiercest since the founder of their town engaged a spirit of the wild for seven days and seven nights. The drums beat and the flutes sang and the spectators held their breath. Amalinze was a wily craftsman, but Okonkwo was as slippery as a fish in water. Every nerve and every muscle stood out on their arms, on their backs and their thighs, and one almost heard them stretching to breaking point. In the end Okonkwo threw the Cat. That was many years ago, twenty years or more, and during this time Okonkwo's fame had grown like a bush-fire in the harmattan. He was tall and huge, and his bushy eyebrows and wide nose gave him a very severe look. He breathed heavily, and it was said that, when he slept, his wives and children in their houses could hear him breathe. When he walked, his heels hardly touched the ground and he seemed to walk on springs, as if he was going to pounce on somebody. And he did pounce on people quite often. APPENDIX B 145 > OREGON COMMON CORE STATE STANDARDS FOR English Language Arts > & Literacy in History/Social Studies, Science, and Technical Subjects He had a slight stammer and whenever he was angry and could not get his words out quickly enough, he would use his fists. He had
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{
"page_id": null,
"source": 6820,
"title": "from dpo"
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no patience with unsuccessful men. He had had no patience with his father. Unoka, for that was his father's name, had died ten years ago. In his day he was lazy and improvident and was quite incapable of thinking about tomorrow. If any money came his way, and it seldom did, he immediately bought gourds of palm-wine, called round his neighbors and made merry. He always said that whenever he saw a dead man's mouth he saw the folly of not eating what one had in one's lifetime. Unoka was, of course, a debtor, and he owed every neighbor some money, from a few cowries to quite substantial amounts. He was tall but very thin and had a slight stoop. He wore a haggard and mournful look except when he was drinking or playing on his flute. He was very good on his flute, and his happiest moments were the two or three moons after the harvest when the village musicians brought down their instruments, hung above the fireplace. Unoka would play with them, his face beaming with blessedness and peace. Sometimes another village would ask Unoka's band and their dancing egwugwu to come and stay with them and teach them their tunes. They would go to such hosts for as long as three or four markets, making music and feasting. Unoka loved the good fare and the good fellowship, and he loved this season of the year, when the rains had stopped and the sun rose every morning with dazzling beauty. And it was not too hot either, because the cold and dry harmattan wind was blowing down from the north. Some years the harmattan was very severe and a dense haze hung on the atmosphere. Old men and children would then sit round log fires, warming their bodies.
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{
"page_id": null,
"source": 6820,
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Unoka loved it all, and he loved the first kites that returned with the dry season, and the children who sang songs of welcome to them. He would remember his own childhood, how he had often wandered around looking for a kite sailing leisurely against the blue sky. As soon as he found one he would sing with his whole being, welcoming it back from its long, long journey, and asking it if it had brought home any lengths of cloth. Lee, Harper. To Kill A Mockingbird . New York: HarperCollins Publishers, 2006. (1960) From Chapter One When he was nearly thirteen, my brother Jem got his arm badly broken at the elbow. When it healed, and Jem's fears of never being able to play football were assuaged, he was seldom self-conscious about his injury. His left arm was somewhat shorter than his right; when he stood or walked, the back of his hand was at right angles to his body, his thumb parallel to his thigh. He couldn't have cared less, so long as he could pass and punt. When enough years had gone by to enable us to look back on them, we sometimes discussed the events leading to his accident. I maintain that the Ewells started it all, but Jem, who was four years my senior, said it started long before that. He said it began the summer Dill came to us, when Dill first gave us the idea of making Boo Radley come out. I said if he wanted to take a broad view of the thing, it really began with Andrew Jackson. If General Jackson hadn't run the Creeks up the creek, Simon Finch would never have paddled up the Alabama, and where would we be if he hadn't? We were far too old to
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{
"page_id": null,
"source": 6820,
"title": "from dpo"
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settle an argument with a fist-fight, so we consulted Atticus. Our father said we were both right. APPENDIX B 146 > OREGON COMMON CORE STATE STANDARDS FOR English Language Arts > & Literacy in History/Social Studies, Science, and Technical Subjects Shaara, Michael. The Killer Angels . New York: Ballantine, 1996. (1975) From “Longstreet” “. . . have no doubt,” Fremantle was saying, “that General Lee shall become the world’s foremost authority on military matters when this war is over, which would appear now to be only a matter of days, or at most a few weeks. I suspect all Europe will be turning to him for lessons.” Lessons? “I have been thinking, I must confess, of setting some brief thoughts to paper,” Fremantle announced gravely. “Some brief remarks of my own, appended to an account of this battle, and perhaps others this army has fought. Some notes as to tactics.” Tactics? “General Lee’s various stratagems will be most instructive, most illuminating. I wonder, sir, if I might enlist your aid in this, ah, endeavor. As one most closely concerned? That is, to be brief, may I come to you when in need?” “Sure,” Longstreet said. Tactics? He chuckled. The tactics were simple: find the enemy, fight him. He shook his head, snorting. Fremantle spoke softly, in tones of awe. “One would not think of General Lee, now that one has met him, now that one has looked him, so to speak, in the eye , as it were, one would not think him, you know, to be such a devious man.” “Devious?” Longstreet swung to stare at him, aghast. “Oh my word,” Fremantle went on devoutly, “but he’s a tricky one. The Old Gray Fox, as they say. Charming phrase. American to the hilt.” “Devious?” Longstreet stopped dead in the
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{
"page_id": null,
"source": 6820,
"title": "from dpo"
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road. “Devious.” He laughed aloud. Fremantle stared an owlish stare. “Why, Colonel, bless your soul, there ain’t a devious bone in Robert Lee’s body, don’t you know that?” Tan, Amy. The Joy Luck Club . New York: Ballantine, 1989. (1989) From “Jing -Mei Woo: Two Kinds” My mother believed you could be anything you wanted to be in America. You could open a restaurant. You could work for the government and get good retirement. You could buy a house with almost no money down. You could become rich. You could become instantly famous. “Of course you can be prodigy, too,” my mother told me when I was nine. “You can be best anything. What does Auntie Lindo know? Her daughter, she is only best tricky.” America wa s where all my mother’s hopes lay. She had come here in 1949 after losing everything in China: her mother and father, her family home, her first husband, and two daughters, twin baby girls. But she never looked back with regret. There were so many ways for things to get better. We didn’t immediately pick the right kind of prodigy. At first my mother thought I could be a Chinese Shirley Temple. We’d watch Shirley’s old movies on TV as though they were training films. My mother would poke my arm and say, “ Ni kan ”— You watch. And I would see Shirley tapping her feet, or singing a sailor song, or pursing her lips into a very round O while saying, “Oh my goodness.” APPENDIX B 147 > OREGON COMMON CORE STATE STANDARDS FOR English Language Arts > & Literacy in History/Social Studies, Science, and Technical Subjects “Ni kan,” said my mother as Shirley’s eyes flooded with tears. “You already know how. Don’t need tal ent for crying!” Álvarez, Julia. In
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{
"page_id": null,
"source": 6820,
"title": "from dpo"
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the Time of the Butterflies . Chapel Hill: Algonquin, 1994. (1994) From Chapter 1: “Dedé 1994 and circa 1943” She remembers a clear moonlit night before the future began. They are sitting in the cool darkness under the anacahuita tree in the front yard, in the rockers, telling stories, drinking guanabana juice. Good for the nerves, Mamá always says. They’re all there, Mamá, Papá, Patria -Minerva-Dedé. Bang-bang-bang, their father likes to joke, aiming a pistol finger at each one, as if he were shooting them, not boasting about having sired them, Three girls, each born within a year of each other! And then, nine years later, Maria Teresa, his final desperate attempt at a boy misfiring. Their father has his slippers on, one foot hooked behind the other. Every once in a while Dedé hears the clink of the rum bottle against the rim of his glass. Many a night, and this night is no different, a shy voice calls out of the darkness, begging their pardon. Could they spare a calmante for a sick child out of their stock of kindness? Would they have some tobacco for a tired old man who spent the day grating yucca? Their father gets up, swaying a little with drink and tiredness, and opens up the store. The campesino goes off with his medicine, a couple of cigars, a few mints for the godchildren. Dedé tells her father that she doesn’t know how they do as well as they do, the way he gives everything away. But her father just puts his arm around her, and says, “ Ay , Dedé, that’s why I have you. Every soft foot needs a hard shoe.” “She’ll bury us all,” her father adds, laughing, “in silk and pearls.” Dedé hears again the clink of the rum
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{
"page_id": null,
"source": 6820,
"title": "from dpo"
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bottle. “Yes, for sure, our Dedé here is going to be the millionaire in the family.” Zusak, Marcus. The Book Thief . New York: Knopf, 2005. (2005) From “The Flag” The last time I saw her was red. The sky was like soup, boiling and stirring. In some places it was burned. There were black crumbs, and pepper, streaked amongst the redness. Earlier, kids had been playing hopscotch there, on the street that looked like oil-stained pages. When I arrived I could still hear the echoes. The feet tapping the road. The children-voices laughing, and the smiles like salt, but decaying fast. Then, bombs. This time, everything was too late. The sirens. The cuckoo shrieks in the radio. All too late. Within minutes, mounds of concrete and earth were stacked and piled. The streets were ruptured veins. Blood streamed till it was dried on the road, and the bodies were stuck there, like driftwood after the flood. They were glued down, every last one of them. A packet of souls. APPENDIX B 148 > OREGON COMMON CORE STATE STANDARDS FOR English Language Arts > & Literacy in History/Social Studies, Science, and Technical Subjects Was it fate? Misfortune? Is that what glued them down like that? Of course not. Let’s not be stupid. It probably had more to do with the hurled bombs, thrown down by humans hiding in the clouds. For hours, the sky remained a devastating, home-cooked red. The small German town had been flung apart one more time. Snowflakes of ash fell so lovelily you were tempted to stretch out your tongue to catch them, taste them. Only, they would have scorched your lips. They would have cooked your mouth. Clearly, I see it. I was just about to leave when I found her kneeling there. A mountain
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{
"page_id": null,
"source": 6820,
"title": "from dpo"
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