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English Provincial Writing
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~—4~4~4 (~?~~~L)
FaIl 2013 (Tuesday)
There are three type of writing that you will be dealing with on your provincial:
1. Literary Essay
2. Compare and Contrast (Synthesis) Essay
3. Composition (Expository, Persuasive and Narrative)
On Tuesdays, we will be practicing extensively on the different types of essays
for the composition part on your provincial exam.
Planning and practicing are the key elements to writing a captivating essay. In
order to ensure your success in conquering provincial writing, you would need to
always plan, revise and refine each essay that we work on.
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Date
Homework
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Quiz Mark
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Key Elements in Narrative Essay
1. Setting:
________________
and
___________________
2. Characters: _________________________ withlwithout
_____
a. Please give an example of a direct presentation:
b. Please give an example of an indirect presentation:
c. What is a “foil”?
3. Plot:
a. exposition:
b. rising action:
c. climax:
d. falling action:
e. denouement:
3
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Now let’s analyze “The Possibility of Evil” by Shirley Jackson
1. Setting:
________________
and
___________________
2. Characters: The Protagonist is _________________________________
a. Please give an example of a direct presentation:
b. Please give an example of an indirect presentation:
3. Plot:
a. exposition:
b. rising action:
c. climax:
d. falling action:
e. denouement:
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Narrative Writing
Key Elements in Narrative Writing:
Setting:
Character presentation:
~ (~~±)
“The Tangled Garden” by JEH Macbonald, 1915
“The Possibility of Evil”
Shirley Jackson
Miss Adela Strangeworth stepped daintily along Main Street on her way
to the grocery. The sun was shining, the air was fresh and clear after the night’s
heavy rain, and everything in Miss Strangeworth’s little town looked washed
and bright. Miss Strangeworth took deep breaths, and thought that there was
nothing in the world like a fragrant summer day.
She knew everyone in town, of course; she was fond of telling strangers
tourists who sometimes passed through the town and stopped to admire Miss
Strangeworth’s roses that she had never spent more than a day outside this
town in all her long life. She was seventy-one, Miss Strangeworth told the
tourists, with a pretty little dimple showing by her lip, and she sometimes found
herself thinking that the town belonged to her. “My grandfather built the first
house on Pleasant Street,” she would say, opening her blue eyes with the wonder
of it. This house, right here. My family has lived here for better than a hundred
years. My grandmother planted these roses, and my mother tended them, just as
I do.”...
Miss Strangeworth never gave away any of her roses, although the
tourists often asked her. The roses belonged on Pleasant Street, and it bothered
-
—
Miss Strangeworth to think of people wanting to carry them away, to take them
into strange towns and down strange streets....
Walking down Main Street on a summer morning, Miss Strangeworth had
to stop every minute or so to say good morning to someone or to ask after
someone’s health. When she came into the grocery, half a dozen people turned
away from the shelves and counters to wave at her or call out good morning.
“And good morning to you, Mr. Lewis,” Miss Strangeworth said at last...
“Good morning,” Mr. Lewis said, and added politely, “lovely day.”
“It is a very nice day,” Miss Strangeworth said as though she had only just
decided that it would do after all. “I would like a chop, please, Mr. Lewis, a
small, lean veal chop. Are those strawberries from Arthur Parker’s garden?
They’re early this year.”
“He brought them in this morning,” Mr. Lewis said.
“I shall have a box,” Miss Strangeworth said. Mr. Lewis looked worried,
she thought, and for a minute she hesitated, but then she decided that he surely
could not be worried over the strawberries. He looked very tired indeed....
“And a can of cat food and, I think, a tomato.”
Silently, Mr. Lewis assembled her order on the counter and waited. Miss
Strangeworth looked at him curiously and then said,”It’s Tuesday, Mr. Lewis.
You forgot to remind me.”
“Did I? Sorry.”
“Imagine your forgetting that I always buy my tea on Tuesday,” Miss
Strangeworth said gently. “A quarter pound of tea, please, Mr. Lewis.”
“Is that all, Miss Strangeworth?”
“Yes, thank you, Mr. Lewis. Such a lovely day, isn’t it?”
“Lovely,” Mr. Lewis said.
Miss Strangeworth moved slightly to make room for Mrs. Harper at the
counter. “Morning, Adela,” Mrs. Harper said, and Miss Strangeworth said,
“Good morning, Martha.”...
“Ran out of sugar for my cake frosting,” Mrs. Harper explained. Her
hand shook slightly as she opened her pocketbook. Miss Strangeworth
wondered, glancing at her quickly, if she had been taking proper care of herself.
Martha Harper was not as young as she used to be, Miss Strangeworth thought.
She probably could use a good, strong tonic...
Carrying her little bag of groceries, Miss Strangeworth came out of the
store into the bright sunlight and stopped to smile down on the Crane baby. Don
and Helen Crane were really the two most infatuated young parents she had
every known, she thought indulgently, looking at the delicately embroidered
baby cap and the lace-edged carriage cover.
“That little girl is going to grow up expecting luxury all her life,” she said
to Helen Crane.
Helen laughed. “That’s the way we want her to feel,” she said. “Like a
princess.”
“A princess can be a lot of trouble sometimes,” Miss Strangeworth said
dryly. “How old is her highness now?”
“Six months next Tuesday,” Helen Crane said, looking down with rapt
wonder at her child. “I’ve been worrying, though, about her. Don’ you think she
ought to move around more? Try to sit up, for instance?”
“For plain and fancy worrying,” Miss Strangeworth said, amused, “give
me a new mother every time”
“She just seems slow,” Helen Crane said.
“Nonsense. All babies are different. Some of them develop much more
quickly than others.
“That’s what my mother says,” Helen Crane laughed, looking a little bit
ashamed.
“I suppose you’ve got young Don all upset about the fact that his
daughter is already six months old and hasn’t yet begun to learn to dance?”
“I haven’t mentioned it to him. I suppose she’s just so precious that I
worry about her all the time.”
“Well, apologize to her right now,” Miss Strangeworth said. “She is
probably worrying about why you keep jumping all the time.” Smiling to herself
and shaking her old head, she went on down the sunny street, stopping once to
ask little Billy Moore why he wasn’t out riding in his daddy’s shiny new car, and
talking for a few minutes outside the library with Miss Chandler, the librarian,
about the new novels to be ordered, and paid for by the annual library
appropriation. Miss Chandler seemed absent-minded and very much as though
she was thinking about something else. Miss Strangeworth noticed that Miss
Chandler had not taken much trouble with her hair this morning, and sighed.
Miss Strangeworth hated sloppiness.
Many people seemed disturbed recently, Miss Strangeworth thought.
Only yesterday the Stewarts’ fifteen-year-old Linda had run crying down her
own front walk and al the way to school, not caring who saw her. People around
town thought she might have had a fight with the Harris boy, but they showed
up together at the soda shop after school as usual, both of them looking grim and
bleak.
From halfway down the block Miss Strangeworth could catch heavy
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Chunk break:
stop & review
whafs important
accent of her roses, and she moved a little more quickly. The perfume of roses
meant home, and home meant the Strangeworth House on Pleasant Street. Miss
Strangeworth stopped at her own front gate, as she always did, and looked with
deep pleasure at her house, with the red and pink and white roses massed along
the narrow lawn, and the rambler going up along the porch; and the neat,
unbelievably trim lines of the house itself, with its slimness and its washed white
look.... Miss Strangeworth went up her front steps, unlocked her front door with
her key, and went into the kitchen to put away her groceries. She debated
having a cup of tea and then decided it was too close to midday dinnertime; she
would have the appetite for her little chop if she had tea now. Instead, she went
into the light, lovely sitting room.... Miss Strangeworth had put a bowl of her
red roses on the low table before the window, and the room was full of their
scent.
Miss Strangeworth went to the narrow desk in the corner, and unlocked it
with her key. She never knew when she might feel like writing letters, so she
kept her notepaper inside, and the desk locked. Miss Strangeworth’s usual
stationary was heavy and cream-coloured, with “Strangeworth House” engraved
across the top, but, when she felt like writing her other letter, Miss Strangeworth
used a pad of various-coloured paper, layered in pink and green arid blue and
yellow; everyone in town bought it and used it for odd, informal notes and
shopping lists.... Everyone used the matching envelopes for tucking away
recipes, or keeping odd little things in, or even to hold cookies in the school
lunch boxes....
Although Miss Strarigworth’s desk held trimmed quill pen... and a goldfrosted fountain pen,... Miss Strangeworth always used a dull stub of pencil
when she wrote her letters, and she printed them in a childish block print. After
thinking for a minute, although she had been phrasing the letter in the back of
her mind all the way home, she wrote on a pink sheet: Didn’t you every see an idiot
child before? Some people just shouldn’t have children, should they?
She was pleased with the letter. She was fond of doing things exactly
right...
After thinking for a minute, she decided that she would like to write
another letter, perhaps to go to Mrs. Harper, to follow up the ones she had
already mailed. She selected a green sheet this time and wrote quickly: Have you
found out yet what they were all laughing about after you left the bridge club on
Thursday? Or is the wife really the last one to know?
Miss Strangeworth never concerned herself with facts; her letters all dealt
with the more negotiable stuff of suspicion. Mr. Lewis would never have
imagined for a minute that his grandson might be lifting petty cash from the
store register if he had not had one of Miss Strangeworth’s letters. Miss
Chandler, the librarian, and Linda Stewart’s parents would have gone
unsuspectingly ahead with their lives, never aware of the possible evil lurking
nearby, if Miss Strangeworth had not sent letter to open their eyes. Mss
Strangeworth would have been genuinely shocked if there had been anything
between Linda Stewart and the Harris boy, but, as long as evil existed unchecked
in the world, it was Miss Strangeworth’s duty to keep her town alert to it. It was
far more sensible for Miss Chandler to wonder about what Mr. Shelley’s first
wife had really died of than to take a chance on not knowing. There were so
many wicked people in the world and only one Strangeworth left in town.
Besides, Miss Strangeworth liked writing her letters.
She addressed an envelope to Don Crane after a moment’s thought,...
using a pink envelope to match the pink paper. Then she addressed a second
envelope, green, to Mrs. Harper. Then an idea came to her and she selected a
blue sheet and wrote: You never know about doctors. Remember they’re only human
and need money like the rest of us. Suppose the knife slipped accidentally. Would Doctor
Burns get his fre and a little extra from that nephew of yours?
She addressed the blue envelope to old Mrs. Foster, who was having an
operation next month. She had thought of writing one more letter, to the head of
the school board, asking how a chemistry teacher like Billy Moore’s father could
afford a new convertible, but all at once she was tired of writing letters. The
three she had done would do for one day...
She had been writing her letters sometimes two or three a day,
sometimes no more than one in a month for the past year. She never got any
answers, of course, because she never signed her name.... The town where she
lived had to be kept clean and sweet, but people everywhere were lustful and
evil and degraded, and needed to be watched; the world was so large, and there
was only one Strangeworth left in it. Miss Strangeworth sighed, locked her desk,
and put the letters into her big, black leather pocketbook, to be mailed when she
took her evening walk.
She broiled her little chop nicely, and had a sliced tomato and a good cup
of tea ready when she sat down to her midday dinner.... Sitting in the warm
sunlight that came through the tall windows of the dining room, seeing her roses
massed outside, handling the heavy, old silverware and the fine, translucent
china, Miss Strangeworth was pleased; she would not have cared to be doing
anything else.
After a nap she worked in her garden for a little while, sparing herself
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Chunk break
stop & revie~v
what~s
important ~
why
because of the heat; then she went into her supper.... After her dishes were done
and her kitchen set in order, she.. .set off on her evening walk, pocketbook under
her arm.
There was only one place in town where she could mail her letters, and
that was the new post office, shiny with red brick and silver letters. Although
Miss Strangeworth had never given the matter any particular thought, she had
always made a point of mailing her letters very secretly; it would, of course, not
have been wise to let anyone see her mail them. Consequently, she timed her
walk so she could reach the post office just as darkness was starting to dim the
outlines of the trees and the shapes of peoples’ faces, although no one could ever
mistake Miss Strangeworth, with her dainty walk and her rustling skirts.
There was always a group of young people around the post office.... Most
of the children stood back respectfully as Miss Strangeworth passed, silenced
briefly in her presence, and some of the older children greeted her, saying
soberly, “Hello, Miss Strangeworth.”
Miss Strangeworth smiled at them and quickly went on.... The mail slot
was in the door of the post office.... Miss Strangeworth stood by the door,
opening her black pocketbook to take out the letters, and heard a voice which she
knew at once to be Linda Stewart’s. Poor little Linda was crying again, and Miss
Strangeworth listened carefully. This was, after all, her town, and these were her
people; if one of them was in trouble, she ought to know it.
“I can’t tell you, Dave,” Linda was saying so she was talking to the
Harris boy, as Miss Strangeworth had supposed “I just can’t. It’s just nasty.”
“But why won’t your father let me come around anymore? What on earth
did I do?”
“I can’t tell you. I just wouldn’t tell you for anything. You’ve got to have
a dirty, dirty mind for things like that.”.
Miss Strangeworth sighed and turned away. There was so much evil in
people. Even in a charming little town like this one, there was still so much evil
in people.
She slipped her letter into the slot, and two of them fell inside. The third
caught on the edge and fell outside, onto the ground at Miss Strangeworth’s feet.
She did not notice it.... Wearily Miss Strangeworth turned to go home to her
quiet bed in her lovely house, and never heard the Harris boy calling to her to
say that she had dropped something.
“Old lady Strangeworth’s getting deaf,” he said, looking after her and
holding in his hand the letter he had picked up.... “It’s for Don Crane,... this
letter.... Might as well take it on over.”... He laughed. “Maybe it’s got a cheque
or something it and he’d be just as glad to have it tonight instead of tomorrow.”
“Catch old lady Strangeworth sending anybody a cheque,” Linda said.
“Throw it in the post office. Why do anyone a favour?”...
“I’ll take it over, anyway,” the Harris boy said. “Maybe it’s good news for
them. Maybe they need something happy tonight, too. Like us.”
Sadly, holding hands, they wandered off down the dark street, the Harris
boy carrying Miss Strangeworth’s pink envelope in his hand.
Miss Strangeworth awakened the next morning with a feeling of intense
happiness and, for a minute, wondered why, and then remembered that this
morning three people would open her letters. Harsh, perhaps, at first, but
wickedness was never easily banished, and a clean heart was a scoured heart.
Then, going downstairs, reflecting that perhaps a little waffle would be agreeable
for breakfast in the sunny dining room, she found the mail on the hall floor, and
bent to pick it up. A bill, the morning paper, a letter in a green envelope that
looked oddly familiar. Miss Strangeworth stood perfectly still for a minute,
looking down at the green envelope with the pencilled printing, and thought: It
looks like one of my letters. Was one of my letters sent back? No, because no
one would know where to sent it. How did this get here?
Miss Strangeworth was a Strangeworth of Pleasant Street. Her hand did
not shake as she opened the envelope and unfolded the sheet of green paper
inside. She began to cry silently for the wickedness of the world when she red
the words: Look out at what used to be your roses.
—
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In order to accentuate your storytelling skills, you need to have various ways/words to use:
1. How many ways can you “say” things? For example: “whisper” “argue”
loudly
softly
angerlannoyance
question
5
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loudly
softly
~ (**~1~4±)
angerlannoyance
question
2. Canyouthinkofadj ectives that describe characters?
Physical
Mental
Moral
Spiritual
3. Can you think of adjectives for commentary/analysis of text?
Positive
Negative
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Positive
~ (*~~~J)
Negative
7
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~
~
Key Elements in Expository/Persuasive Essay
Your expository essay should look like an hourglass:
1. Introduction
a. How do you start?
b. Why is thesis important?
2. Body Paragraphs
a. What are the ways you can support you arguments?
i. Facts:
ii. Examples:
iii. Analogies:
iv. Reasons:
3. Conclusions
a. A good conclusion is much more than just a summary
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~ (~4J)
Let’s work on collecting facts for your expository essays:
Famous Person in
History
Their Experience and Accomplishments
What kind of provincial topic
can you use with this
person?
9
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Famous Person in
History
~t—~*.~ê*~ (~~L)
Their Experience and Accomplishments
What kind of provincial topic
can you use with this
person?
Five quotes that you can use on provincial: (Remember, you have to make sure you remember who said it, and spell their names
correctly. These quotes have to be from people that we all know.)
Topic
imagination
~ ife
Who?
Said What?
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Topic
~ (*k*~~LL)
Who?
Said What?
change
experience
persistence
influence
11
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Descriptive Words for Commentary or Analysis of Text
Positive
Negative
Authentic
Inspirational
Reactionary
Absurd
Conservative
Ironic
Realistic
Commonplace
Controversial
Liberal
Recondite
Heretical
Credible
Melodramatic
Romantic
Improbable
Cultural
Mystical
Satiric
Incredible
Didactic
Naturalistic
Scholarly
Insignificant
Dramatic
Objective
Significant
Intolerant
Esoteric
Orthodox
Spiritual
Pedantic
Expressionistic
Philosophic
Subjective
Prejudiced
Fanciful
Plausible
Symbolic
Shallow
Humanistic
Pragmatic
Utilitarian
Superficial
Humorous
Profound
Trivial
Impressionistic
Radical
Unscholarly
Descriptive Words for Characters: Physical Qualities
Positive
Negative
Active
Exquisite
Pretty
Awkward
Hideous
Ugly
Adept
Fair
Ravishing
Bizarre
Homely
Ungainly
Adroit
Fascinating
Robust
Cadaverous
Horrible
Unkempt
Agile
Good-looking
Shapely
Clumsy
Incongruous
Unmanly
Attractive
Graceful
Skillful
Coarse
Invidious
Unwomanly
Beautiful
Handsome
Spirited
Decrepit
Loathsome
Weak
Brawny
Hardy
Spruce
Effeminate
Odious
Charming
Immaculate
Stalwart
Emaciated
Repellent
Comely
Lively
Strapping
Feeble
Repugnant
Dainty
Lovely
Strong
Frail
Repulsive
Dapper
Manly
Sturdy
Gawky
Sickly
Delicate
Muscular
Virile
Ghastly
Slovenly
Dexterous
Neat
Vivacious
Graceless
Spare
Elegant
Nimble
Winsome
Grotesque
Thin
Descriptive Words for Characters: Mental Qualities
Positive
Apt
Negative
Learned
Bigoted
Stupid
Astute
Observant
Crass
Ungifted
Capable
Precocious
Dull
Unintellectual
Clever
Prudent
Fatuous
Unintelligent
Competent
Rational
Foolish
Unlettered
Crafty
Reasonable
Ignorant
Unschooled
Cunning
Sage
Illiterate
Vacuous
Educated
Scholarly
Inane
Erudite
Sensible
Irrational
Gifted
Shrewd
Narrow-minded
Ingenious
Subtle
Obtuse
Intellectual
Talented
Puerile
Intelligent
Wily
Shallow
Inventive
Wise
Simple
Descriptive Words for Characters: Moral Qualities
Positive
Abstemious
Negative
Righteous
Base
Iniquitous
Austere
Straightforward
Corrupt
Intemperate
Chaste
Temperate
Deceitful
Notorious
Decent
Trustworthy
Degenerate
Reprobate
Exemplary
Truthful
Depraved
Ribald
Faultless
Undefiled
Dishonest
Sensual
Guileless
Upright
Dishonorable
Unprincipled
Honorable
Virtuous
Dissolute
Unscrupulous
Idealistic
Foul
Vicious
Innocent
Immoral
Vile
Pure
Incorrigible
Vulgar
Puritanical
Indecent
Wicked
Respectable
Infamous
Descriptive Words for Characters: Spiritual Qualities
Positive
Negative
Angelic
Agnostic
Materialistic
Devout
Atheistic
Mundane
Faithful
Blasphemous
Profane
Godlike
Carnal
Sacrilegious
Holy
Diabolic
Skeptical
Pious
Fiend like
Unregenerate
Regenerate
Godless
Religious
Impious
Reverent
Irrelevant
Saintly
Irreligious
Descriptive Words for Characters: Social Qualities
Positive
Negative
Affable
Acrimonious
Irascible
Amiable
Antagonistic
Malevolent
Amicable
Anti-social
Misanthropic
Cheerful
Boorish
Obsequious
Civil
Brusque
Peevish
Congenial
Captious
Perverse
Convivial
Caustic
Petulant
Cooperative
Churlish
Provincial
Cordial
Contentious
Quarrelsome
Courteous
Crabbed
Rustic
Debonair
Critical
Shrewish
Elegant
Crusty
Sniveling
Genial
Cynical
Sulky
Gracious
Discourteous
Sullen
Hospitable
Fawning
Sycophantic
Jolly
Fractious
Uncivil
Jovial
Grumpy
Unctuous
Polite
Ill-bred
Ungracious
Politic
Ill-mannered
Unpolished
Sociable
Implacable
Unrefined
Suave
Impolite
Unsociable
Tactful
Imprudent
Waspish
Urbane
Insolent
Descriptive Words for Characters: General Qualities
Positive
Admirable
Phlegmatic
Negative
Apathetic
Gentle
Indiscreet
Rebellious
Altruistic
Gullible
Plucky
Arrogant
Inefficient
Recalcitrant
Ambitious
Humane
Punctual
Artificial
Insensitive
Reckless
Aristocratic
Humble
Radical
Avaricious
Insidious
Refractory
Artless
Illustrious
Reactionary
Boastful
Insignificant
Remiss
Assiduous
Imperturbable
Refined
Brutish
Intolerant
Reprehensible
Audacious
Imposing
Reserved
Bumptious
Irresolute
Ruthless
Benevolent
Impressive
Resolute
Bungling
Irresponsible
Sanctimonious
Candid
Indifferent
Resourceful
Callous
Lackadaisical
Scurrilous
Cautious
Indomitable
Responsive
Capricious
Lazy
Self-centered
Charitable
Indulgent
Reticent
Complacent
Lethargic
Self-indulgent
Circumspect
Industrious
Saturnine
Conceited
Listless
Silly
Compassionate
Influential
Saucy
Contemptible
Malicious
Slothful
Confident
Ingenious
Scrupulous
Contemptuous
Malignant
Smug
Conscientious
Intrepid
Sedate
Cowardly
Mediocre
Squeamish
Conservative
Kindly
Self-impassive
Craven
Mercenary
Stingy
Considerate
Laconic
Self-reliant
Cruel
Mischievous
Stubborn
Courageous
Liberal
Sensitive
Dilatory
Mulish
Timorous
Coy
Long-suffering
Serious
Disdainful
Niggardly
Traitorous
Cultured
Magnanimous
Shy
Dogmatic
Obdurate
Treacherous
Demure
Meek
Sober
Domineering
Obnoxious
Truculent
Determined
Melancholic
Solemn
Eccentric
Obstinate
Unambitious
Diffident
Merciful
Staid
Egotistical
Odd
Unreliable
Diligent
Moody
Stoical
Envious
Oppressive
Unruly
Discreet
Munificent
Strong-willed
Erratic
Ordinary
Unstable
Distinguished
Naïve
Sympathetic
Fastidious
Overconfident
Vain
Earnest
Natural
Taciturn
Fickle
Parasitic
Venal
Efficient
Noble
Thrifty
Frivolous
Parsimonious
Vindictive
Eloquent
Nonchalant
Timid
Gluttonous
Perfidious
Voracious
Eminent
Patient
Tolerant
Haughty
Petty
Wearisome
Enthusiastic
Pensive
Unaffected
Headstrong
Pharisaical
Willful
Flippant
Persevering
Uncompromising
Hypocritical
Pompous
Worthless
Forbearing
Persistent
Valorous
Imperious
Prejudiced
Frugal
Persuasive
Wary
Impetuous
Prolix
Garrulous
Pert
Well-bred
Imprudent
Proud
Generous
Philanthropic
Whimsical
Impulsive
Quixotic
Genteel
Philosophical
Witty
Incompetent
Rash
Zealous
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6650—8181
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Quan turn Learning Academy
Cambie Road, Richmond ~ (~~‘Ht.L)
Original Composition Topics
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Provincial Exams
Aug. 2011- Happiness can be found in unlikely circumstsances
June 2010
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Different points of view make life interesting
Aug. 2009
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With independence comes increased responsibility
Aug. 2007
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Each generation has something valuable to offer
June 2007— Those we admire shape the people we become
April 2007— Ordinary objects can have extraordinary significance
Jan. 2007
Inspiration can be found in everyday situations
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Aug. 2006
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Confidence comes from the support of others
June 2006
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Every day experiences change our understanding of life
Jan. 2006 Dreams take us on journeys
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June 2005
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April 2005
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Jan. 2005
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An everyday experience can bring joy
Life requires dealing with change
the simplest experiences in life are often the most important
Nov. 2004— Self-awareness leads to meaningful change
Aug. 2004— Role models influence our lives
June 2004— Certain events change our impressions of life
April 2004— Experiences shape relationships
Jan. 2004— Our views of the past change as we mature
Aug. 2003
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Memories influence our lives
June 2003
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We learn the most from those closest to us
April 2003— Our journey into the future beings in the past
Jan. 2003 Certain experiences can mark the beginning of maturity
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Aug. 2002
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Forming meaningful connections may enrich lives
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Quantum Learning,56042796889
Academy
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June 2002 People can be influenced by their environment
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April 2002
Sometimes people are unable to control their directions their lives take
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Jan. 2002— People can create their own reality
Nov. 2001—Taking advantage of opportunities can be beneficial
June 2001— A good life does not have to be complex
April 2001— It is important to have a realistic view of life
Jan. 2011—Surprises can make life interesting
Nov. 2000
Adapting to new situations in life is essential
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Aug. 2000 —Taking charge of your own life is worthwhile
June 2000
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Being sincere is important
April 2000
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The pursuit of freedom involves change
Jan. 2000
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Keeping an open mind allows for growth
Nov. 1999— the important things in life endure over time
Jason Luk 8/9/2011 (English 10 Provincial 96%)
The Arctic breath slapped the toddler in the face with apathy, for it feels nothing for such delicate life. This was
Mother Nature’s white dungeon; only the strong-willed could survive. The toddler continued the trek south but to no
available. The blizzard blocked any sight ahead; instinct was the toddler’s only weapon. He pushed forth because the
escape route from this abyss neared. He also knew his mother waited patiently, praying or his survival.
Like the sun’s victory over dusk, the toddler broke free from the storm. His mother smiled with sympathy, an
image that was rare in the harsh environment. Her breath gave life to the toddler’s limbs. Her embrace igniting his will
once again. The toddler knew that his only family was his caretaker, mentor and friend. The toddler knew love is undying
fire, an inextinguishable force even in dire situations.
Finally they continued the hunt for food. A splash in the water betrayed the seal’s concealment. The mother
pounced on this chance; she knew this seal would last them for days. Snarling and growling the mother died in to the
chilly Arctic Ocean. Her fur coat attached to her body, transforming the mother into a hunting machine.
The seal easily honored its sleek frame through the cervix it knew as the playground. The mother’s strikes
returned no results. But the tides turned as the mother stretched its extension and struck the seal’s torso. The seal
surfaced for an escape, a last stand of hope for survival.
The mother’s indifference for the seal caused her adrenaline to soar. The snarled and growled and pounced on
the helpless prey. The zoo-pound of force exerted pinned the seal down, a target that could not retaliate. Her claws
ripped open the seal, its blood staining the white landscape. She took a bite of the body’s neck, relishing the meat she
craved for so long.
The toddler polar bear has the only audience of this spectacle. The mother recloned the body to join the feast,
its life sustained by a thread. The baby admired the mother’s hunting. She was Artemis Athena to him, because she
hunted with such grace and non he has the wisdom to do the same.
Tricia Jose
English 12: Composition (Eng 12 Provincial 91%)
Topic: It is important to have a realistic view of life
Many say that it is important to have a realistic view of life, but what exactly is reality? If reality
is defined plainly as the current functions of our society what one may deem “real life” then in
actuality, this notion of looking at life in a realistic way inherently defers our growth. Yes, seeing the
world in a realistic light is beneficial, but it is in living life with the belief that there is more than what
meets the eye that allows us to truly grow and move forward.
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Imagine what would have happened if in history, people regarded life as it was, accepted it, and
did nothing. No change would ever have come about. Martin Luther King knew this. Luckily, he “[had] a
dream,” despite the realities he knew he faced. Through dreaming of a world of congregation and
interracial harmony, he paved the road to freedom for people of all races. Had he lived in what was seen
as “realistic” during his time, Vancouver may not be the multicultural city it is today, nor Canada a
country so willing to embrace differences. In Cry, the Beloved country, a similar scene is set. A novel set
against a background of racial injustice, it appears to protagonist Stephen Kumalo that hope for Africa is
bleak. He tells himself to face the harsh reality of his country, and accepts it as a fact. However, because
of a solitary white man who dreamt of and believed in an interracial existence, the reader sees at the
conclusion of the novel that Kumalo is filled with hope for a brighter tomorrow. Life carries many
realities that man must accept and embrace. However, if nobody dares think or hope or dream beyond
what already is, nothing more will be. Eleanor Roosevelt said it best, “the future belongs to those who
believe in the beauty of their dreams.”
This generation is privileged in that we are able to benefit from those who dared to believe and
have given us our freedoms, rights, and not to mention latest gadgets. However, what this generation
fails to see is that the dreaming never really ends that we must continue on with what our
predecessors began. We must not be content but yearn for more. I have struggled with this especially
with my position as student council president. Past presidents and councils have already implemented
rules and strategies and activities that have worked year in, year out. Our teacher sponsors know this
and stand firm with these traditions of walkathon assemblies, scavenger hunts and candy throwing.
However, LFA has grown tired of these activities, making for a lackluster year. I am discontent too,
knowing that the umbrella of student council could still reach out past the hours of 8-3 to fulfill an even
larger purpose. I struggle knowing so much more can be done. The reality is understandable, but there is
truly so much more in store. Our generation has so much potential. And when we see what we are
capable of, who is to say we can’t change the world.
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To ignore reality would be a fault, for living purely in a fantastical dream world benefits none.
One must be able to see and understand what reality is, but continue to dream and strive and work
towards that dream.
Mary Szeto (ENG 12 Provincial Mark 94%)
Many would agree that one’s life is a result of one’s choice. Indeed, one’s life is the
consequences, both positive and negative, of one’s decisions. To begin, the father of physics,
Isaac Newton, gained such reputation due to the choices of his during young age. After he
earned his degree in Law, he decided to study at home for two years as a precaution for the
Great Plague; consequently, he developed his theories in gravity, optics and calculus. The
famous apple-fell-from-orchard tree as well as the white-light-decomposing-into-seven colors
happened during his studies. If he had not moved home, he might have had just been a lawyer
of his era rather than an universally famous scientist.
In addition to Newton’s successful choices, many made some unsuccessful ones as well.
As an example, Samuel Langley made a choice that caused his failure. While he was designing
airplanes, studying power on the effect of flying and imagining solutions to create the airplanes,
he give up on creating an airplane to weighing problems. During a test run of Langley’s airplane,
the airplane crashed, being too heavy, and consequently this failure caused Langley to be so
disappointed that he decided to discontinue his studies and give up all his hard works. The
Wright Brothers, used Langley’s theories to build their airplanes; while the Wright Brothers
failed many times, they chase to continue and ultimately created the first airplane. Would
Samuel Langley be accredited for creating airplanes if he had not chosen to give up when he
failed at the beginning?
Without a doubt, mother Teresa of Calcutta’s choices lead her to earn the Nobel Peace
Price and become worldly recognized. While most urban people spend their whole life “chasing”
for wealth and fame, Mother Teresa decides to use her hands to give love and close distances
sbetween people. She spent her whole life serving the diseased, physically disadvantaged, and
injured like Jesus, helping the abandoned children on the streets, and teaching traditional
Indians how to respect and not be indifferent to those around them. Although Mother Teresa
only possessed a pair of shoes, three pieces of clothing, and Jesus’ picture when she died, she is
the wealthiest women as her love is priceless. In conclusion, everyone has a choice, and every
decision one makes will have results and consequences that can affect one’s whole life.
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Quantum Learning Academy
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Narrative Writing
Key Elements in Narrative Writing:
Setting:
Character presentation:
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English 12 Original Composition
Scale Point: 6
Comment
This paper was awarded a 6 because it illustrates a maturity of both content and style. Language is
sophisticated. The topic is addressed in a nuanced and insightful manner.
The girl’s dress was too small, and it itched. She hated dark colours, anyway. She sat,
wedged between her mother and a fat third cousin who smelled like wet wool, in the third
row of the funeral parlor. She smacked her gum loudly, and looked with twelve-year-old
scorn at the assembled mourners. Her mother pinched her arm, and several old ladies
rustled about in the broken silence to seek out the source of the disruptive and
inappropriate chewing.
The girl grimaced at her mother, then stared determinedly ahead at the box that held what
has once been her Grandmother McPhee. The girl had not liked her Grandmother McPhee
particularly well, she had taken pleasure in scoffing at the old woman’s failing memory,
failing body, and pathetic offers of friendship. She had looked with dread on the obligatory
semi-monthly visits to the nursing home where her grandmother was slowly languishing
away. She had shrugged indifferently when she learned of her grandmother’s death. She
had put on a show of uncaring for her mother, who had looked at her with sympathy and
put away the box of tissues. But inside, the girl was filled with a kind of horror.
When the time had come to leave for the funeral, the girl had announced first that she did
not want to go, and second that she wanted to wear her jeans. Her mother, grim and
determined, had manoevered her into an old, dark green dress that the late Grandmother
McPhee had sent for the girl’s birthday. The girl resented the intimacy of being encased in
the relic.
After the moment of silence in the funeral parlor, an old lady the girl didn’t know slowly
hobbled her way up to the podium to speak. At the podium, the old woman asked for the
lights to be lowered, and explained that she had prepared a slide show of photographs she
had kept of Agnes McPhee over their 75 year friendship.
The first slide was in black and white (and yellow with age), and depicted two girls, about
twelve, standing in the snow grinning, with their arms around each other. The girl on the left
was wearing a green dress, and was obviously proud of it.
The old woman at the podium met the eyes of the girl in the third row wearing the same
dress. The girl’s eyes filled with tears of regret, and of just understood loss. The old woman
smiled kindly, with understanding, as if to say “she understood.” For the first time, the girl
understood, too. She squeezed against her mother, and was quiet.
English 12 Original Composition
Scale Point: 6
Comment
This paper was awarded a “6” because while occasionally overwritten, it illustrates strong
vocabulary and sophisticated wit.
The words “Wisdom teeth” are redolent of maturity. Every aspect of them, from the fact
they usually surface when one reaches physical maturity, to the considerable maturity it
takes to retain one’s composure while having them removed, speaks of the age-instilled
wisdom one might expect them to grant.
I am terrified of having teeth pulled. Given the choice, I’d prefer the experience of having
my fingers lobbed of with a meat cleaver to the uniform, sickening sounds and nauseating
pressure of having my teeth twisted out of my jaw. One can imagine my uncontainable
bliss when told my jaw is to small for another four teeth, resulting in the impending
excision of my wisdom teeth, and bicuspid for good measure.
At ten-thirty yesterday morning, I sat silently in the ridiculously maneuverable dentistry
thone, whimpering quietly to myself, acceptant of my fate. Dr. Ng wasted no time with
formalities and got right to work. I-fe muttred some incomprehensible, yet strangely
comforting words in his korean accent, and quickly, efficiently injected local anaesthetic at
various points throughout my mouth, strategically numbing my gums and even areas as
far removed as my right ear lobe and nostril. Routinely, he circled the chair and inquired if
I was frozen. My reply was a monosyllabic “auh. and although it was as close to a “No”,
as a “yes”, Dr. Ng understood it was a “Too frozen to say anything whatsoever, sir,” and
withdrew a pair of dental pliers. They were of the variety one sees in cartoons and horror
movies: Gigantic, sharp, and heavy-duty. I closed my eyes for the first of the grinding,
bursting sounds that the proceedings in my mouth were emitting, but soon got used to
them. The only slight jolt of pain I felt during the whole operation was the occasion on
which the dentist’s chisel slipped, burying itself in my jaw.
. .“
I won’t deny that I feel a certain amount of pride in the maturity of my actions (or lack of
actions) in the face of an experience I feared, until yesterday, above all else. I may have
three less teeth to chew my oatmeal with now, but I have never been more relieved in my
life than the moment that experience was over with. With only two more teeth to be
extracted next weekend, it’s downhill from here.
English 12 Original Composition
Scale Point: 6
Comment
This paper was awarded a “6” because it is a clear illustration of sophistication of wit and writing
style. Paper uses juxtaposition to create an engaging and imaginative piece.
My father has never had a job in my life. His last job was a door-to-door book salesman in
1983, two years before my birth. I do not know why he has remained a “house-husband”;
maybe it is because my mom is a doctor and makes enough money to support our family,
or maybe there are other reasons. Whatever the cause of his situation, it always filled me
with embarassment. People never ask, “What does your mom do?”, and I was sick of
providing the same response, “My dad is an author,” (which is a lie, anyway),
but my
mom is a doctor!”
“....
The time came, when I was in grade 7, when I was completely frustrated with lying for my
dad. The opportunity to inform him of this came when I was attempting to quit piano
lessons.
“Dad, I don’t like playing the piano,” I stated passively.
“There’re lots of things we don’t like, but we have to do them,” he responded.
“I want to quit,” I retorted quickly.
“No,” he responded firmly. I refused to become intimated.
“Yes, dad. It’s my choice. I don’t like doing it so I can quit.”
“No! You’re not quitting! You’ll learn that we all do things that we don’t enjoy, but we do
them because we have to, and because we learn from them.”
I saw my opportunity to let him know how I felt, and I took it.
“Well, dad,” I stated, with a superficial importance, “I know a lot of my friends’ dad’s don’t
like working, but they still do it! It’s not an option. But you stay at home programming
computers for fun and watching TV and you don’t look for a job because you don’t like it.
You don’t want to!”
That was the end of that conversation. He did not mutter another word. He stared at me for
a few seconds and averted his eyes back to the road. His breathing was heavy. I knew I
had made my point.
I felt proud it was the first time I had been able to silence my dad in an argument, and I
was allowed to quite piano! During the next few weeks, we hardly acknowledged each
other.
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***
5 years later, I am in grade 12. I am taking Literature 12, but I want to drop it and only take
English 12.
“Son, you can’t do that,” my dad said, less aggressively this time.
“Dad, why? I want to.”
“You can’t. You’ll learn a lot from this class. There’re things we do that we don’t always
want to, we just have to.”
My previous response came to my head, but I felt wrong for even thinking it.
“Actually,” I started, “you’re right. I probably should. It’ll help my writing and reading
comprehension.
Why did I not repeat my first response? I think it may be a sign of my developing maturity.
My dad may have made some mistakes in his life, and it should never be someone’s goal
to end up without a job, but it’s his role as a dad to try to prevent his son from making
the same mistakes as he did. Whenever I hear Beethoven’s “Moonlight Sonata”, I wish I
could play it myself. I may one day take up the piano again. I am proud to say, though, that
in several years I will look at my father on his deathbed with love and pride, and be able to
quote “Do Not Go Gentle into that Good Night” by rote.
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