NEW SAT
Level 1
TEACHER’S MATERIALS
First Edition
TABLE OF CONTENTS for Teacher’s materials
WEEK 1 DAY 1 ......................................................................................................................................... 1
THE NEW SAT OVERVIEW ........................................................................................................................... 1
THE BASICS OF ANALYZING PASSAGES ....................................................................................................... 2
MY SON THE NUMBER ................................................................................................................................ 3
FOREWORD TO ARCTIC NATIONAL WILDLIFE REFUGE: SEASONS OF LIFE AND LAND, A PHOTOGRAPHIC
JOURNEY .................................................................................................................................................... 8
MAKING NOTES AND USING DICTIONARY ................................................................................................ 11
MAKING NOTES ........................................................................................................................................ 11
USING DICTIONARY .................................................................................................................................. 12
W1D1 HOMEWORK: TWO KINDS ............................................................................................................. 14
2
WEEK 1 DAY 1
THE NEW SAT OVERVIEW
The new SAT consists of two mandatory sections: the Reading & Writing Section, and the Math
Section.
Category
Format
Actual SAT
test length
Time per
stage
Total number
of questions
and time
allowed
(Actual SAT
test)
New SAT level
1 course tests
Reading and Writing (RW) Section
Math Section
Two-stage adaptive test design: one
RW section administered via two
separately timed modules
Two-stage adaptive test design: one
Math section administered via two
separately timed modules
1st module: 25 operational questions
and 2 pretest questions
1st module: 20 operational questions
and 2 pretest questions
2nd module: 25 operational
questions and 2 pretest questions
2nd module: 20 operational
questions and 2 pretest questions
1st module: 32 minutes
1st module: 35 minutes
2nd module: 32 minutes
2nd module: 35 minutes
54 questions
44 questions
64 minutes
70 minutes
Midcourse test: 54 questions (for
analysis of student’s strengths and
weaknesses)
Final test: 66 questions (for thorough
assessment of student’s competency)
To be announced
Format: paper-based, non-adaptive
Scores
reported
Total score
RW and Math section scores
Question
type(s) used
Discrete; four-option multiple-choice
Discrete; four-option multiple-choice
(~75%) and student-produced
response (SPR) (~25%)
Stimulus
topics
Literature, history/social studies,
humanities, science
Science, social science, real-world
topics
Informational
graphics
Yes; tables, bar graphs, line graphs
Yes
1
THE BASICS OF ANALYZING PASSAGES
All active readers read with purpose. When you read, always try to answer the following questions:
Subject & Scope
What is the writer's focus?
•
•
The general topic, content, or idea contained in the text.
Subjects can be broad or specific.
Purpose
What is the writer's general goal in writing about this subject?
•
•
•
To inform / explain / analyze
To consider / persuade / urge / debate
To evoke moods and emotions
A passage can do all three things, but there's typically one main purpose.
Tone
What attitude does the writer have toward his/her subject?
•
•
•
Impact (emotions felt while reading)
Diction (the choice of words)
Imagery (the choice of descriptive details)
2
MY SON THE NUMBER
By DULCIE LEIMBACH
T elicits from the title of the passage:
•
•
Who is the writer? (Dulcie Leimbach is a woman) => A mother
What does she mean by the title? => She considers her son just a number (when reading the first
paragraph, Ss should realize that the number is SAT score number (or any other academic scores)
T explains to Ss that they will read a long article, but in excerpts. They should gather information about
the context along the way, and maybe sometimes need to compare one excerpt with another, but should
treat each excerpt as a semi-independent passage. In other words, try to analyze each excerpt within its
scope.
T models by thinking aloud with the first excerpt:
•
•
Read every sentence aloud, then draw Ss’ attention to important words/phrases that might help
them get the central idea of the paragraph/excerpt as quickly and simply as possible.
(Suggestions: topic sentences, adjectives/adverbs, linking devices, repeated words or words of
the same theme, key shifts in tone)
Elicit what Ss think are the connections between different ideas
--- 1 --I felt so liberated, so washed of envy, that when a colleague recently cornered me in my
cubicle to let me know that his son's SAT scores had risen 80 points in the second go-round, I
congratulated him without a bit of regret. Not that long ago, I would have cringed, invested as I
was in my own son's scores.
But Joe is done with the numbers. He's happily installed in his second year at a great
university, and I can take pleasure in looking back at the college-admission process with foggy
recognition, remembering vaguely that his ACT, SAT and Advanced Placement scores had
been part of our everyday conversations for far too long. I was so obsessed with Joe's grades—as
he was, too—that he had become a number, actually a group of numbers, striving to meet the
exalted levels that top colleges and Ivies demand.
Subject & Scope:
A parent’s attitude toward her son’s scores and the scores of other people’s
children
Purpose:
To show writer’s transformation of emotions: cringed, obsessed, regret,
invested (past) => liberated, washed of envy, happily (present) - Ss should pay
attention to Verb tenses also
Tone:
Relieved (just remember vaguely about the difficult past)
After the first excerpt, T can let Ss read on their own, then afterward ask Ss to state their opinions. If Ss get
stuck, point them toward some clues (important words/phrases) and guide them toward the answer. Ss
should find their way toward their own conclusion, using their own words and ideas. The goal is at the
end of this article, Ss can find clues and draw conclusions without much of T’s help.
T can let Ss discuss in pairs/groups of 3 before asking an individual S to state their ideas. Ask Ss lots of
questions to make sure their ideas are clarified and their vocabulary is precise.
--- 2 --3
My son was hardly a slacker in high school. He took as many college-level courses as a boy
can handle, avoiding electives like photography and creative writing; he took a prep class on
weekends; he won a student government office and he played varsity baseball and soccer.
But we thought his numbers could go higher.
By the fall of his senior year, I was trying to get him to take the SAT for a third time.
"I don't really want to go through that again," he responded, leaning back in his desk chair,
looking at me with dread.
"Did you send in the form anyway?" I pressed.
"I think I did."
"You either did or you didn't."
He was interested in Brown because of its art-exchange program with the Rhode Island
School of Design. He fancied the Georgetown foreign-service school. Pomona beckoned with
small classes and palm trees. But his grade point average rested a few points above 90, and it
needed to rise to the very top for those universities.
"Don't you think you should have taken another A.P. course? Like a science one?"
"It's too late for me to take biology," he reminded me.
"What about physics?"
"You can leave now," he said, pointing to his bedroom door. "You know how to shut it."
"Call me when you can't stand community college."
Subject & Scope:
Joe was hard-working, but it was not enough for his mother
Purpose:
Show characters’ emotions in a typical conversation in the past
Tone:
Intense, pushy (mother); exasperated (son)
--- 3 --Conversations with other parents were equally unsettling. They would try to tease out your
child's score, as if digging for your age or income bracket. An otherwise modest father let it
drop in a casual exchange in the grocery line that his son had done "exceedingly well" on the
SAT, studying my face for the jealous flinch. Long pause. Now you tell me yours.
The bragging felt like an emotional pummeling. But when I really thought about it, the
needling reflected our eager-beaver desire to try to outsmart the admissions system. Just some
more nuggets of information and, I thought, I could figure out how to get my son where we
thought he must go.
Subject & Scope:
A painful encounter with another parent, how parents think of their children’s
scores as information to pry on, how competitive parents are.
Purpose:
To show the emotional impact of an encounter on the writer
Tone:
Bitter (1st paragraph), reflective (2nd paragraph)
--- 4 --4
In truth, I shared my son's SAT scores twice. Once with a friend whose son had attended the
same high school as mine, a public school in New York City. I knew she wouldn't blather the
numbers. I explained to her that Joe could fumble on major standardized tests. He took the first
SAT junior year, and the results were so-so.
On the second try, that April, he filled in the wrong bubbles on part of the test, and it had to
be scored by hand. The score rose, but not by 80 points.
She looked surprised. "Joe was always the smartest boy I knew," she said. I took her
compliment in, wishing his cleverness could have been captured more completely on the test.
Subject & Scope:
Second encounter with another parent: Even with the highest compliment
from the other mother, the writer was still unsatisfied
Purpose:
To show that it is never enough for the writer to be satisfied with her son’s scores
Tone:
Humble bragging (first two paragraphs), dissatisfied (last paragraph)
--- 5 --Another mother asked me straight out about Joe's scores, as if talking the price of eggs. I
blurted it out, adding that he had aced the writing portion. But the buzz, we noted, was that the
writing section was not being taken seriously.
Her son's scores "keep going up" each time he takes a practice test, she said. I wished her
luck but felt exposed.
Subject & Scope:
Third encounter with another parent: Scores seemed to be public information
among parents, the writer was “defeated” by the other parent’s brag about her
son.
Purpose:
To establish a pattern of parents’ encounters (every time she met another
parent, she felt upset)
Tone:
Vulnerable (blurted, felt exposed), but outwardly calm (wished her luck)
--- 6 --What could Joe do? He had sweated through the admissions pileup, writing a half-dozen
earnest, original essays and chasing the endless requests for recommendations (including
writing one himself at the request of one of his teachers)—and by senior year, he was done.
And then April arrived, with the rejection letters coming fast and furious. It was little
consolation that some of Joe's classmates with averages of 97 and above did not get into the
most elite schools, either. One boy, with perfect SAT scores and class valedictorian, was
waitlisted by Harvard. Ha! He went to M.I.T.
5
Subject & Scope:
How hardworking Joe was, and how anxious the writer was when the rejection
letters came
Purpose:
To show the writer’s emotions
Tone:
Exultant (being happy because other kids failed)
--- 7 --The epiphany came slowly, but when it struck, I felt enormously free: the college game had
been out of our control all along. Although I would have been the last person to accept this
wisdom while sunk in the mire, no matter how often I tried to be rational, I now know that my
son's quest for a good education and self-fulfillment is not the domain of brand-name
universities. Nor can numbers reflect a student's sense of purpose, let alone reveal his ability to
get along with others and finish the task at hand. They don't measure creativity and wit, and
they can't predict the future.
Subject & Scope:
Writer’s realization of the truth: Scores and brand-names did not actually matter
to her son’s future
Purpose:
To explain writer’s epiphany, which leads to her feeling of being “liberated”
Tone:
Reflective, reassuring
--- 8 --My son's college, McGill in Montreal, suits him so well that it's as if the gods had arranged
it. In fact, he had pegged it for himself back in ninth grade. (Canadians know how to pick the
best.)
It wasn't my immediate choice—I thought it too big and impersonal—but he talks about his
classes as if they are planets he is circling. For a city-planning project, he analyzed and
photographed a Montreal neighborhood; for Swahili, he learned that prefixes matter; the grind
of economics, he decided, could be left for someone else.
Subject & Scope:
How well Joe turned out to be: He was enjoying his college experience, even
though he did not excel in all subjects
Purpose:
To show the writer’s satisfaction with the present
Tone:
Reflective, calm
6
--- 9 --As part of my own journey on this long pathway, I realized that the college process involves
trust and letting your child go. Children have this wondrous way of managing themselves,
regardless of mindful parents, and though I sensed this all along, I resisted, as if afraid of losing
control. If they possess even a smattering of self-awareness, stay attuned to the world and
cultivate their curiosity, children will channel through the application process, appreciate
college and be able to face the ultimate test with courage: what to do with the years ahead.
Subject & Scope:
More realization: The children were more capable than parents might think,
their future was bigger than their few years in college.
Purpose:
To explain the writer’s realization and her new found trust on her child
Tone:
Reflective
--- 10 --Now, if only that father would give me the name of the tutor who improved his son's test
score. My daughter is in ninth grade, and we'll need it soon.
As for Joe's scores, no editor can pry them from me.
Subject & Scope:
A humorous remark: The vicious cycle may happen again with her daughter?
Purpose:
To end with a lighthearted note
Tone:
Sarcastic (The writer doesn’t mean what she writes)
7
FOREWORD TO ARCTIC NATIONAL WILDLIFE REFUGE: SEASONS OF LIFE AND LAND, A
PHOTOGRAPHIC JOURNEY
By JIMMY CARTER
T should approach this passage in the same way as My son the number. Now that the Ss are more used to
critical analysis, T can give them more autonomy.
In this passage, the writer lists many animals and plants, and there might be a number of unfamiliar words.
T should remind Ss that they can still understand the basics of the passage without understanding every
single word. Encourage Ss to guess the function of each detail instead of its meaning.
--- 1 --The Arctic National Wildlife Refuge stands alone as America's last truly great wilderness.
This magnificent area is as vast as it is wild, from the windswept coastal plain where polar bears
and caribou give birth to the towering Brooks Range where Dall sheep cling to cliffs and wolves
howl in the midnight sun.
Subject & Scope:
The Arctic National Wildlife Refuge is a great area of wilderness
Purpose:
Describe the marvel at the Refuge
Tone:
In awe
--- 2 --More than a decade ago, [my wife] Rosalynn and I had the fortunate opportunity to camp
and hike in these regions of the Arctic Refuge. During bright July days, we walked along ancient
caribou trails and studied the brilliant mosaic of wildflowers, mosses, and lichens that hugged
the tundra. There was a timeless quality about this great land. As the never-setting sun circled
above the horizon, we watched muskox, those shaggy survivors of the Ice Age, lumber along
braided rivers that meander toward the Beaufort Sea.
One of the most unforgettable and humbling experiences of our lives occurred on the
coastal plain. We had hoped to see caribou during our trip, but to our amazement, we
witnessed the migration of tens of thousands of caribou with their newborn calves. In a matter
of a few minutes, the sweep of tundra before us became flooded with life, with the sounds of
grunting animals and clicking hooves filling the air. The dramatic procession of the Porcupine
caribou herd was a once-in-a-lifetime wildlife spectacle. We understand firsthand why some
have described this special birthplace as "America's Serengeti".
Subject & Scope:
Writer’s personal experience with the Refuge
Purpose:
To depict the marvelous scenery and its timeless beauty
Tone:
Loving, humbled
--- 3 --8
Standing on the coastal plain, I was saddened to think of the tragedy that might occur if this
great wilderness was consumed by a web of roads and pipelines, drilling rigs and industrial
facilities. Such proposed developments would forever destroy the wilderness character of
America's only Arctic Refuge and disturb countless numbers of animals that depend on this
northernmost terrestrial ecosystem.
Subject & Scope:
The Refuge and its wilderness are threatened by industrial development
Purpose:
To show the writer’s emotions and introduce a problem
Tone:
Apprehensive (saddened, tragedy, consumed, destroy, disturb)
--- 4 --The extraordinary wilderness and wildlife values of the Arctic Refuge have long been
recognized by both Republican and Democratic presidents. In 1960, President Dwight D.
Eisenhower established the original 8.9 million-acre Arctic National Wildlife Range to preserve
its unique wildlife, wilderness, and recreational values. Twenty years later, I signed the Alaska
National Interest Lands Conservation Act, monumental legislation that safeguarded more than
100 million acres of national parks, refuges, and forests in Alaska. This law specifically created
the Arctic National Wildlife Refuge, doubled the size of the former range, and restricted
development in areas that are clearly incompatible with oil exploration.
Subject & Scope:
A history of protection over the Refuge by US presidents, including the writer
Purpose:
To show a pattern
Tone:
Specific, firm, full of conviction
--- 5 --Since I left office, there have been repeated proposals to open the Arctic Refuge coastal plain
to oil drilling. Those attempts have failed because of tremendous opposition by the American
people, including the Gwich'in Athabascan Indians of Alaska and Canada, indigenous people
whose culture has depended on the Porcupine caribou herd for thousands of years. Having
visited many aboriginal peoples around the world, I can empathize with the Gwich'ins' struggle
to safeguard one of their precious human rights.
Subject & Scope:
History of resistance against attempts to harm the Refuge; The Refuge’s
significance to indigenous people
Purpose:
To give reason for the fight against industrialization of the Refuge
Tone:
Firm, empathetic
--- 6 --9
We must look beyond the alleged benefits of a short-term economic gain and focus on what
is really at stake. At best, the Arctic Refuge might provide 1 to 2 percent of the oil our country
consumes each day. We can easily conserve more than that amount by driving more fuelefficient vehicles. Instead of tearing open the heart of our greatest refuge, we should use our
resources more wisely.
Subject & Scope:
Short-term gain from industrializing the Refuge is not worth it; There are other
ways to solve the energy crisis
Purpose:
To provide an alternative way to solve the problem
Tone:
Logical
--- 7 --There are few places on earth as wild and free as the Arctic Refuge. It is a symbol of our
national heritage, a remnant of frontier America that our first settlers once called wilderness.
Little of that precious wilderness remains.
It will be a grand triumph for America if we can preserve the Arctic Refuge in its pure,
untrammeled state. To leave this extraordinary land alone would be the greatest gift we could
pass on to future generations.
Subject & Scope:
The significance of the Refuge and why America should protect it
Purpose:
To call for action and evoke emotions in readers
Tone:
Earnest
10
MAKING NOTES AND USING DICTIONARY
MAKING NOTES
DIRECTIONS
The following passage is adapted from Paul Bogard’s “Let There Be Dark”, published on December 21,
2012 by Los Angeles Times.
As you read along the following passage, make notes of the subject and scope, purpose, and tone
in the provided margin.
At this point, please ignore the highlighted words.
At the beginning, T can demonstrate his/her own notes so that Ss can copy. Along the way, encourage Ss
to make their own notes in their own words.
YOUR NOTES HERE
[1] At my family’s cabin on a Minnesota lake, I knew woods so
dark that my hands disappeared before my eyes. I knew night skies in
which meteors left smoky trails across sugary spreads of stars. But
now, when 8 of 10 children born in the United States will never know a
sky dark enough for the Milky Way, I worry we are rapidly losing
night’s natural darkness before realizing its worth. This winter solstice,
as we cheer the days’ gradual movement back toward light, let us also
remember the irreplaceable value of darkness.
[2] All life evolved to the steady rhythm of bright days and dark
nights. Today, though, when we feel the closeness of nightfall, we reach
quickly for a light switch. And too little darkness, meaning too much
artificial light at night, spells trouble for all.
[3] Already the World Health Organization classifies working the
night shift as a probable human carcinogen, and the American Medical
Association has voiced its unanimous support for “light pollution
reduction efforts and glare reduction efforts at both the national and
state levels.” Our bodies need darkness to produce the hormone
melatonin, which keeps certain cancers from developing, and our
bodies need darkness for sleep. Sleep disorders have been linked to
diabetes, obesity, cardiovascular disease and depression, and recent
research suggests one main cause of “short sleep” is “long light.”
Whether we work at night or simply take our tablets, notebooks and
smartphones to bed, there isn’t a place for this much artificial light in
our lives.
[4] The rest of the world depends on darkness as well, including
nocturnal and crepuscular species of birds, insects, mammals, fish and
reptiles. Some examples are well known—the 400 species of birds that
migrate at night in North America, the sea turtles that come ashore to
lay their eggs—and some are not, such as the bats that save American
farmers billions in pest control and the moths that pollinate 80% of the
world’s flora. Ecological light pollution is like the bulldozer of the
night, wrecking habitat and disrupting ecosystems several billion years
in the making. Simply put, without darkness, Earth’s ecology would
collapse...
- Writer’s personal anecdote: his
appreciation of the night skies
- His apprehensiveness of the
problem of light pollution
- Emphasize the significance of
darkness
- A natural principle
- Human’s (unnatural) reaction to
darkness
- Detrimental effect of light
pollution
- Scientific explanation: why
human bodies cannot withstand
too much artificial light
- Other animals cannot
withstand artificial light as well
11
[5] In today’s crowded, louder, more fast-paced world, night’s
darkness can provide solitude, quiet and stillness, qualities increasingly
in short supply. Every religious tradition has considered darkness
invaluable for a soulful life, and the chance to witness the universe has
inspired artists, philosophers and everyday stargazers since time began.
In a world awash with electric light... how would Van Gogh have given
the world his “Starry Night”? Who knows what this vision of the night
sky might inspire in each of us, in our children or grandchildren?
[6] Yet all over the world, our nights are growing brighter. In the
United States and Western Europe, the amount of light in the sky
increases an average of about 6% every year. Computer images of the
United States at night, based on NASA photographs, show that what
was a very dark country as recently as the 1950s is now nearly covered
with a blanket of light. Much of this light is wasted energy, which
means wasted dollars. Those of us over 35 are perhaps among the last
generation to have known truly dark nights. Even the northern lake
where I was lucky to spend my summers has seen its darkness
diminish.
[7] It doesn’t have to be this way. Light pollution is readily within
our ability to solve, using new lighting technologies and shielding
existing lights. Already, many cities and towns across North America
and Europe are changing to LED streetlights, which offer dramatic
possibilities for controlling wasted light. Other communities are
finding success with simply turning off portions of their public lighting
after midnight. Even Paris, the famed “city of light,” which already
turns off its monument lighting after 1 a.m., will this summer start to
require its shops, offices and public buildings to turn off lights after 2
a.m. Though primarily designed to save energy, such reductions in
light will also go far in addressing light pollution. But we will never
truly address the problem of light pollution until we become aware of
the irreplaceable value and beauty of the darkness we are losing.
- Benefits of darkness to human’s
soul and inspiration
- Alarming reality of light
pollution
- Readily available solutions to
light pollution
- A deeper solution that lies
within people’s mindset
USING DICTIONARY
DIRECTIONS
Now look at the highlighted words in the passage.
Do as the tasks that follow.
Look at paragraph [1], line 3, specifically the word “smoky”.
The following entry is taken from Oxford Advanced Learner’s Dictionary:
12
Answer the following questions:
1. How many meanings / definitions of the word “smoky” are presented? FOUR
2. Which definition / meaning is most suitable for the word “smoky” in paragraph [1] of the
passage? How do you know? Definition 4, because the writer is not referring to real smoke
which he can taste or smell
Now work in groups of 3-4. Use an English-English dictionary (preferably Oxford or Cambridge)
to find out the meaning of the remaining highlighted words:
These meanings are taken from Oxford Advanced Learner’s Dictionary
[1] sugary: seeming too full of emotion in a way that is not sincere (Definition 2)
[2] artificial: created by people; not happening naturally (Definition 2)
[3] unanimous: agreed or shared by everyone in a group (Definition 1)
[4] wrecking: destroyed (Definition 1)
[5] awash: having something in large quantities (Definition 2)
[6] blanket: a thick layer or mass of something (Definition 2)
[6] diminish: to become smaller, weaker, etc (Definition 1)
[7] shielding: to put a shield around a machine, etc. in order to protect the person using it (Definition 2)
[7] address: to think about a problem or a situation and decide how you are going to deal with it
(Definition 1)
13
W1D1 HOMEWORK: TWO KINDS
By AMY TAN
Explain to Ss that they are going to read some chapters from a longer story. Ss should use the skills they
learned in the in-class exercises to make notes and answer the questions that follow each chapter. When
going over the answers with Ss, T should ask for evidence wherever possible.
--- 1 --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 a 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 was 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.
Chapter 1 analysis
1.1. How did the narrator (June)’s mother view America?
A)
B)
C)
D)
as a place of opportunity
as a place of uncertainty
as a place of limitations
as a place of joy
1.2. What is the main purpose of the final paragraph of this chapter (“America was where … for
things to get better”)?
To provide background information about a character and her optimistic attitude
--- 2 --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.”
“Ni kan,” said my mother as Shirley’s eyes flooded with tears. “You already know how.
Don’t need talent for crying!”
Soon after my mother got this idea about Shirley Temple, she took me to a beauty training
school in the Mission District and put me in the hands of a student who could barely hold the
scissors without shaking. Instead of getting big fat curls, I emerged with an uneven mass of
crinkly black fuzz. My mother dragged me off to the bathroom and tried to wet down my hair.
“You look like Negro Chinese,” she lamented, as if I had done this on purpose.
The instructor of the beauty training school had to lop off these soggy clumps to make my
hair even again. “Peter Pan is very popular these days” the instructor assured my mother. I now
had bad hair the length of a boy’s; with straight-across bangs that hung at a slant two inches
14
above my eyebrows. I liked the haircut, and it made me actually look forward to my future
fame.
In fact, in the beginning I was just as excited as my mother, maybe even more so. I pictured
this prodigy part of me as many different images, trying each one on for size. I was a dainty
ballerina girl standing by the curtain, waiting to hear the music that would send me floating on
my tiptoes. I was like the Christ child lifted out of the straw manger, crying with holy indignity.
I was Cinderella stepping from her pumpkin carriage with sparkly cartoon music filling the air.
In all of my imaginings I was filled with a sense that I would soon become perfect: My mother
and father would adore me. I would be beyond reproach. I would never feel the need to sulk for
anything.
But sometimes the prodigy in me became impatient. “If you don’t hurry up and get me out
of here, I’m disappearing for good,” it warned. “And then you’ll always be nothing.”
Every night after dinner my mother and I would sit at the Formica topped kitchen table. She
would present new tests, taking her examples from stories of amazing children that she read in
Ripley’s Believe It or Not or Good Housekeeping, Reader’s Digest, or any of a dozen other
magazines she kept in a pile in our bathroom. My mother got these magazines from people
whose houses she cleaned. And since she cleaned many houses each week, we had a great
assortment. She would look through them all, searching for stories about remarkable children.
The first night she brought out a story about a three-year-old boy who knew the capitals of
all the states and even most of the European countries. A teacher was quoted as saying that the
little boy could also pronounce the names of the foreign cities correctly.
“What’s the capital of Finland?” My mother asked me, looking at the story.
All I knew was the capital of California, because Sacramento was the name of the street we
lived on in Chinatown. “Nairobi!” I guessed, saying the most foreign word I could think of. She
checked to see if that was possibly one way to pronounce Helsinki before showing me the
answer.
The tests got harder—multiplying numbers in my head, finding the queen of hearts in a
deck of cards, trying to stand on my head without using my hands, predicting the daily
temperatures in Los Angeles, New York, and London.
One night I had to look at a page from the Bible for three minutes and then report
everything I could remember. “Now Jehoshaphat had riches and honor in abundance and...
that’s all I remember, Ma,” I said.
And after seeing, once again, my mother’s disappointed face, something inside me began to
die. I hated the tests, the raised hopes and failed expectations. Before going to bed that night I
looked in the mirror above the bathroom sink, and I saw only my face staring back—and
understood that it would always be this ordinary face—I began to cry. Such a sad, ugly girl! I
made high-pitched noises like a crazed animal, trying to scratch out the face in the mirror.
And then I saw what seemed to be the prodigy side of me—because I had never seen that
face before. I looked at my reflection, blinking so that I could see more clearly. The girl staring
back at me was angry, powerful. This girl and I were the same. I had new thoughts, willful
thoughts—or rather, thoughts filled with lots of won’ts. I won’t let her change me, I promised
myself. I won’t be what I’m not.
So now when my mother presented her tests, I performed listlessly, my head propped on
one arm. I pretended to be bored. And I was. I got so bored that I started counting the bellows
of the foghorns out on the bay while my mother drilled me in other areas. The sound was
comforting and reminded me of the cow jumping over the moon. And the next day I played a
game with myself, seeing if my mother would give up on me before eight bellows. After a while
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I usually counted only one, maybe two bellows at most. At last she was beginning to give up
hope.
Chapter 2 analysis
2.1. Why did June’s mother mention Shirley Temple in the following sentence: "At first my mother
thought I could be a Chinese Shirley Temple."?
It means that the mother thought she was as good as Shirley Temple and could achieve the same fame,
fortune and "perfect" appearance on screen as her. It sets the standard that her mother wants her to
achieve as a Chinese American.
2.2. Over the course of this chapter, how did the narrator's relationship with her mother change?
At first, her mother was eager to find out what talent June had, and June was in on it, too. However, June
quickly grew bored and guilty for not having any talent. Her mother gradually gave up on trying as well.
2.3. Why did June want to become a prodigy?
A)
B)
C)
D)
She wanted to move to Hollywood.
She wanted to have a good job someday.
She wanted to be regarded as special and adored.
She wanted to be accepted into a respected university.
2.4. Why did June's mother keep giving her tests?
A)
B)
C)
D)
She was trying to help June get into a new school.
She was trying to help June find her special talent.
She was trying to help June feel better about herself.
She was trying to help June get better grades at school.
2.5. Toward the end of the chapter, how did June's point of view about becoming a prodigy change?
A)
B)
C)
D)
She became tired of disappointing her mother.
She learned to appreciate her mother's hard work.
She worried about choosing which talent to pursue.
She learned to trust that she would one day find her talent.
--- 3 --Two or three months went by without any mention of my being a prodigy. And then one
day my mother was watching the Ed Sullivan Show on TV. The TV was old and the sound kept
shorting out. Every time my mother got halfway up from the sofa to adjust the set, the sound
would go back on and Ed would be talking. As soon as she sat down, Ed would go silent again.
She got up—the TV broke into loud piano music. She sat down—silence. Up and down, back
and forth, quiet and loud. It was like a stiff, embraceless dance between her and the TV set.
Finally, she stood by the set with her hand on the sound dial.
She seemed entranced by the music, a little frenzied piano piece with this mesmerizing
quality, sort of quick passages and then teasing lilting ones before it returned to the quick
playful parts.
“Ni kan,” my mother said, calling me over with hurried hand gestures. “Look here.”
I could see why my mother was fascinated by the music. It was being pounded out by a little
Chinese girl, about nine years old, with a Peter Pan haircut. The girl had the sauciness of Shirley
Temple. She was proudly modest, like a proper Chinese Child. And she also did this fancy
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sweep of a curtsy, so that the fluffy skirt of her white dress cascaded slowly to the floor like the
petals of a large carnation.
In spite of these warning signs, I wasn’t worried. Our family had no piano and we couldn’t
afford to buy one, let alone reams of sheet music and piano lessons. So I could be generous in
my comments when my mother badmouthed the little girl on TV.
“Play note right, but doesn’t sound good! No singing sound,” complained my mother.
“What are you picking on her for?” I said carelessly. “She’s pretty good. Maybe she’s not the
best, but she’s trying hard.” I knew almost immediately I would be sorry I said that.
[8] “Just like you,” she said. “Not the best. Because you not trying.” She gave a little huff as
she let go of the sound dial and sat down on the sofa.
The little Chinese girl sat down also, to play an encore of “Anitra’s Tanz,” by Grieg. I
remember the song, because later on I had to learn how to play it.
Three days after watching the Ed Sullivan Show my mother told me what my schedule
would be for piano lessons and piano practice. She had talked to Mr. Chong, who lived on the
first floor of our apartment building. Mr. Chong was a retired piano teacher, and my mother
had traded housecleaning services for weekly lessons and a piano for me to practice on every
day, two hours a day, from four until six.
When my mother told me this, I felt as though I had been sent to hell. I whined, and then
kicked my foot a little when I couldn’t stand it anymore.
“Why don’t you like me the way I am? I’m not a genius! I can’t play the piano. And even if I
could, I wouldn’t go on TV if you paid me a million dollars!” I cried.
My mother slapped me. “Who ask you be genius?” she shouted. “Only ask you be your best.
For you sake. You think I want you be genius? Hnnh! What for! Who ask you!”
“So ungrateful,” I heard her mutter in Chinese, “If she had as much talent as she has temper,
she would be famous now.”
Chapter 3 analysis
3.1. What does "frenzied" mean in this following sentence: "She seemed entranced by the music, a
little frenzied piano piece with this mesmerizing quality" (as highlighted in the passage)?
quick/playful/exciting
3.2. Where in this chapter of the story does it indicate the author's reason why the narrator's mother
wanted her to learn the piano?
The second to last paragraph: She wants June to try her best.
3.3. What did June's mother blame for June not being a prodigy?
A)
B)
C)
D)
June's natural clumsiness
June's inability to play the piano
June's unwillingness to put in effort
June's disinterest in her schoolwork
3.4. Why was June upset after finding out about piano lessons?
A)
B)
C)
D)
She hated learning about musical instruments.
She disliked her new piano teacher, Mr. Chong.
She worried her mother spent money on getting her lessons.
She thought her mother wanted her to be something she was not.
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--- 4 --Mr. Chong, whom I secretly nicknamed Old Chong, was very strange, always tapping his
fingers to the silent music of an invisible orchestra. He looked ancient in my eyes. He had lost
most of his hair on the top of his head, and he wore thick glasses and had eyes that always
looked tired and sleepy. But he must have been younger than I thought, since he lived with his
mother and was not yet married.
I met Old Lady Chong once, and that was enough. She had this peculiar smell, like a baby
that had done something in its pants. And her fingers felt like a dead person’s, like an old peach
I once found in the back of the refrigerator; the skin just slid off the meat when I picked it up.
I soon found out why Old Chong had retired from teaching piano. He was deaf. “Like
Beethoven!” he shouted to me: We’re both listening only in our head!” And he would start to
conduct his frantic silent sonatas.
Our lessons went like this. He would open the book and point to different things, explaining
their purpose: “Key! Treble! Bass! No sharps or flats! So this is C major! Listen now and play
after me!”
And then he would play the C scale a few times, a simple chord, and then, as if inspired by
an old unreachable itch, he would gradually add more notes and running trills and a pounding
bass until the music was really something quite grand.
I would play after him, the simple scale, the simple chord, and then I just played some
nonsense that sounded like a cat running up and down on top of garbage cans. Old Chong
would smile and applaud and then said, “Very good! But now you must learn to keep time!”
So that’s how I discovered that Old Chong’s eyes were too slow to keep up with the wrong
notes I was playing. He went through the motions in half time. To help me keep rhythm, he
stood behind me pushing down on my right shoulder for every beat. He balanced pennies on
top of my wrists so I would keep them still as I slowly played scales and arpeggios. He had me
curve my hand around an apple to keep that shape when playing chords. He marched stiffly to
show me how to make each finger dance up and down, staccato, like an obedient little soldier.
He taught me all these things and that was how I also learned I could be lazy and get away
with mistakes, lots of mistakes. If I hit the wrong notes because I hadn’t practiced enough, I
never corrected myself. I just kept playing in rhythm. And Old Chong kept conducting his own
private reverie.
So maybe I never really gave myself a fair chance. I did pick up the basics pretty quickly, and
I might have become a good pianist at that young age. But I was so determined not to try, not to
be anybody different, that I learned to play only the most ear-splitting preludes, the most
discordant hymns.
Over the next year I practiced like this, dutifully in my own way. And then one day I heard
my mother and her friend Lindo Jong both talking in a loud bragging tone of voice so others
could hear. It was after church, and I was leaning against a brick wall wearing a dress with stiff
white petticoats. Auntie Lindo’s daughter, Waverly, who was about my age, was standing
farther down the wall about five feet away. We had grown up together and shared all the
closeness of two sisters, squabbling over crayons and dolls. In other words, for the most part,
we hated each other. I thought she was snotty. Waverly Jong had gained a certain amount of
fame as “Chinatown’s Littlest Chinese Chess Champion.”
[16] “She bring home too many trophy,” lamented Auntie Lindo that Sunday. “All day she
play chess. All day I have no time do nothing but dust off her winnings.” She threw a scolding
look at Waverly, who pretended not to see her.
“You lucky you don’t have this problem,” said Auntie Lindo with a sigh to my mother.
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[18] And my mother squared her shoulders and bragged: “Our problem worser than yours.
If we ask Jing-mei wash dish, she hear nothing but music. It’s like you can’t stop this natural
talent.”
And right then I was determined to put a stop to her foolish pride.
Chapter 4 analysis
4.1. Describe Mr. Chong in your own words.
An old, deaf piano teacher who seemed experienced and methodic, but too slow and caught up in his
own world that he couldn’t keep up with June’s secret scheme
4.2. What is the best evidence in the passage that the author was not taking her piano lessons
seriously?
“But I was so determined not to try, not to be anybody different”
“He taught me all these things and that was how I also learned I could be lazy and get away with mistakes,
lots of mistakes. If I hit the wrong notes because I hadn’t practiced enough, I never corrected myself.”
4.3. What is the tone of Auntie Lindo when discussing Waverly's achievements to the narrator's
mother in paragraph [16]? Why does Auntie Lindo complain about cleaning the trophies?
Humble bragging. She just wants to show off how good Waverly is
4.4. How does the narrator's mother react to Auntie Lindo in paragraph [18]? Why does she react
in that manner?
She wants to show off June’s talent too, in the attempt not to lose out to Auntie Lindo.
4.5. Because June's teacher was deaf,
A)
B)
C)
D)
he did not make her practice.
she believed she was better than her teacher.
she could make mistakes without correction.
she could practice without any interruptions.
4.6. After having listened to her mother and Auntie Lindo, June
A)
B)
C)
D)
resolved to practice piano more.
became jealous of Waverly's success.
resolved to stop her mother's bragging.
became interested in learning about chess.
--- 5 --A few weeks later Old Chong and my mother conspired to have me play in a talent show
which would be held in the church hall. By then my parents had saved up enough to buy me a
secondhand piano, a black Wurlitzer spinet with a scarred bench. It was the showpiece of our
living room.
For the talent show I was to play a piece called “Pleading Child,” from Schumann’s Scenes
from Childhood. It was a simple, moody piece that sounded more difficult than it was. I was
supposed to memorize the whole thing, playing the repeat parts twice to make the piece sound
longer. But I dawdled over it, playing a few bars and then cheating, looking up to see what notes
19
followed. I never really listened to what I was playing. I daydreamed about being somewhere
else, about being someone else.
The part I liked to practice best was the fancy curtsy: right foot out, touch the rose on the
carpet with a pointed foot, sweep to the side, left leg bends, look up, and smile.
My parents invited all the couples from the Joy Luck Club to witness my debut. Auntie
Lindo and Uncle Tin were there. Waverly and her two older brothers had also come. The first
two rows were filled with children both younger and older than I was. The littlest ones got to go
first. They recited simple nursery rhymes, squawked out tunes on miniature violins, twirled
hula hoops in pink ballet tutus, and when they bowed or curtsied, the audience would sigh in
unison, “Awww,” and then clap enthusiastically.
[5] When my turn came, I was very confident. I remember my childish excitement. It was as
if I knew, without a doubt, that the prodigy side of me really did exist. I had no fear whatsoever,
no nervousness. I remember thinking to myself, This is it! This is it! I looked out over the
audience, at my mother’s blank face, my father’s yawn, Auntie Lindo’s stiff-lipped smile,
Waverly’s sulky expression. I had on a white dress, layered with sheets of lace, and a pink bow
in my Peter Pan haircut. As I sat down, I envisioned people jumping to their feet and Ed
Sullivan rushing up to introduce me to everyone on TV.
And I started to play. Everything was so beautiful. I was so caught up in how lovely I looked
that at first I didn’t worry about how I would sound. So it was a surprise to me when I hit the
first wrong note and I realized something didn’t sound quite right. And then I hit another and
another and another followed that. A chill started at the top of my head and began to trickle
down. Yet I couldn’t stop playing, as though my hands were bewitched. I kept thinking my
fingers would adjust themselves back, like a train switching to the right track. I played this
strange jumble through two repeats, the sour notes staying with me all the way to the end.
When I stood up, I discovered my legs were shaking. Maybe I had just been nervous, and
the audience, like Old Chong, had seen me go through the right motions and had not heard
anything wrong at all. I swept my right foot out, went down on my knee, looked up and smiled.
The room was quiet, except for Old Chong, who was beaming and shouting, “Bravo! Bravo!
Well done!” But then I saw my mother’s face, her stricken face. The audience clapped weakly,
and as I walked back to my chair, with my whole face quivering as I tried not to cry, I heard a
little boy whisper loudly to his mother, “That was awful,” and the mother whispered back,
“Well, she certainly tried.”
[8] And now I realized how many people were in the audience—the whole world, it seemed.
I was aware of eyes burning into my back. I felt the shame of my mother and father as they sat
stiffly throughout the rest of the show.
We could have escaped during intermission. Pride and some strange sense of honor must
have anchored my parents to their chairs. And so we watched it all. The eighteen-year-old boy
with a fake moustache who did a magic show and juggled flaming hoops while riding a
unicycle. The breasted girl with white makeup who sang an aria from Madame Butterfly and
got an honorable mention. And the eleven-year-old boy who was first prize playing a tricky
violin song that sounded like a busy bee.
After the show the Hsus, the Jongs, and the St. Clairs, from the Joy Luck Club, came up to
my mother and father.
[11] “Lots of talented kids,” Auntie Lindo said vaguely, smiling broadly.
“That was somethin’ else,” said my father, and I wondered if he was referring to me in a
humorous way, or whether he even remembered what I had done.
[13] Waverly looked at me and shrugged her shoulders. “You aren’t a genius like me,” she
said matter-of-factly. And if I hadn’t felt so bad, I would have pulled her braids and punched
her stomach.
20
But my mother’s expression was what devastated me: a quiet, blank look that said she had
lost everything. I felt the same way, and it seemed as if everybody were now coming up, like
gawkers at the scene of an accident to see what parts were actually missing. When we got on the
bus to go home, my father was humming the busy-bee tune and my mother was silent. I kept
thinking she wanted to wait until we got home before shouting at me. But when my father
unlocked the door to our apartment, my mother walked in and went up to the back, into the
bedroom. No accusations, no blame. And in a way, I felt disappointed. I had been waiting for
her to start shouting, so that I could shout back and cry and blame her for all my misery.
Chapter 5 analysis
5.1. How would you describe the manner in which the narrator prepared for the talent show? Give
evidence to support your description.
Half-hearted, too focused on how she looks to care about how she sounds
(I never really listened to what I was playing. I daydreamed about being somewhere else, about being
someone else.)
5.2. From paragraph [5] to paragraph [8] ("When my turn came ... the rest of the show."), how did
the narrator's attitude towards her performance in the talent show change?
From confidence to sudden realization that things were going wrong, to nervousness, to shame.
5.4. What is the tone of the following sentence in paragraph [13]: “And if I hadn't felt so bad, I would
have pulled her braids and punched her stomach”?
At the time, June must have felt ashamed and angry at Waverly. But as she recalled the incident (as the
narrator), she sounded reflective and understanding of herself.
5.5. What happened during the recital?
A)
B)
C)
D)
June purposefully played poorly.
June played better than she had expected.
June was worried because she had not prepared.
June was confident until things started to go wrong.
5.6. How did June's mother respond to the recital performance?
A)
B)
C)
D)
She scolded her daughter.
She praised her daughter.
She responded with silence.
She responded with frustration.
--- 6 --I had assumed my talent-show fiasco meant that I would never have to play the piano again.
But two days later, after school, my mother came out of the kitchen and saw me watching TV.
“Four clock,” she reminded me, as if it were any other day. I was stunned, as though she
were asking me to go through the talent-show torture again. I planted myself more squarely in
front of the TV.
“Turn off TV,” she called from the kitchen five minutes later.
21
I didn’t budge. And then I decided, I didn’t have to do what mother said anymore. I wasn’t
her slave. This wasn’t China. I had listened to her before, and look what happened. She was the
stupid one.
She came out of the kitchen and stood in the arched entryway of the living room. “Four
clock,” she said once again, louder.
“I’m not going to play anymore,” I said nonchalantly. “Why should I? I’m not a genius.”
She walked over and stood in front of the TV. I saw her chest was heaving up and down in
an angry way.
[8] “No!” I said, and I now felt stronger, as if my true self had finally emerged. So this was
what had been inside me all along.
“No! I won’t!” I screamed.
She yanked me by the arm, pulled me off the floor, snapped off the TV. She was
frighteningly strong, half pulling, half carrying me toward the piano as I kicked the throw rugs
under my feet. She lifted me up and onto the hard bench. I was sobbing by now, looking at her
bitterly. Her chest was heaving even more and her mouth was open, smiling crazily as if she
were pleased I was crying.
“You want me to be someone that I’m not!” I sobbed. “I’ll never be the kind of daughter you
want me to be!”
“Only two kinds of daughters,” she shouted in Chinese. “Those who are obedient and those
who follow their own mind! Only one kind of daughter can live in this house. Obedient
daughter!”
“Then I wish I weren’t your daughter, I wish you weren’t my mother,” I shouted. As I said
these things I got scared. It felt like worms and toads and slimy things crawling out of my chest,
but it also felt good, as if this awful side of me had surfaced, at last.
“Too late to change this,” my mother said shrilly.
[15] And I could sense her anger rising to its breaking point. I wanted to see it spill over.
And that’s when I remembered the babies she had lost in China, the ones we never talked
about. “Then I wish I’d never been born!” I shouted. “I wish I were dead! Like them.”
It was as if I had said magic words. Alakazam!—and her face went blank, her mouth closed,
her arms went slack, and she backed out of the room, stunned, as if she were blowing away like
a small brown leaf, thin, brittle, lifeless.
Chapter 6 analysis
6.1. The narrator said in paragraph [8] that "my true self had finally emerged." What was her 'true
self' that she was referring to?
The self that was resisting against her mother’s will. The self that held off all the true feelings she had.
6.2 June and her mother got into a fight because
A)
B)
C)
D)
June wanted to be herself and not play piano anymore.
June wanted to play piano but her mother was too embarrassed.
June wanted to try something new other than playing the piano.
June wanted to forget about the recital but her mother would not let her.
6.3. The narrator yelled at her mother in paragraph [15], line 3, "I wish I were dead! Like them." Why
did the narrator wish she were dead? What effect does this have on her mother? Why did the mother
react in such manner?
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June wanted to be dead so that she did not have to do what her mother wanted her to do. Upon hearing
that, her mother was stunned and backed out. Her mother seemed to be deeply hurt.
--- 7 --It was not the only disappointment my mother felt in me. In the years that followed, I failed
her so many times, each time asserting my own will, my right to fall short of expectations. I
didn’t get straight As. I didn’t become class president. I didn’t get into Stanford. I dropped out
of college.
For unlike my mother, I did not believe I could be anything I wanted to be. I could be only
me.
And for all those years we never talked about the disaster at the recital or my terrible
accusations afterward at the piano bench. All that remained unchecked, like a betrayal that was
now unspeakable. So I never found a way to ask her why she had hoped for something so large
that failure was inevitable.
And even worse, I never asked her about what frightened me the most: Why had she given
up hope?
For after our struggle at the piano, she never mentioned my playing again. The lessons
stopped. The lid to the piano was closed, shutting out the dust, my misery, and her dreams.
So she surprised me. A few years ago she offered me the piano, for my thirtieth birthday. I
had not played in all those years. I saw the offer as a sign of forgiveness, a tremendous burden
removed.
“Are you sure?” I asked shyly. “I mean, won’t you and Dad miss it?”
“No, this your piano,” she said firmly. “Always your piano. You only one can play.”
“Well, I probably can’t play anymore,” I said. “It’s been years.”
“You pick up fast,” my mother said, as if she knew this was certain. “You have natural
talent. You could been genius if you want to.”
[12] “You just not trying,” my mother said. And she was neither angry nor sad. She said it
as if announcing a fact that could never be disproved. “Take it,” she said.
But I didn’t at first. It was enough that she had offered it to me. And after that, every time I
saw it in my parents’ living room, standing in front of the bay window, it made me feel proud,
as if it were a shiny trophy that I had won back.
Chapter 7 analysis
7.1. What line(s) in this section best characterizes the fundamental difference between the narrator
and her mother throughout the story?
“For unlike my mother, I did not believe I could be anything I wanted to be. I could be only me.”
7.2. In paragraph [12], line 1, the mother says to the narrator that "you just not trying." How is the
mother's tone here different from this earlier instance, "Not the best. Because you not trying. She
gave a little huff as she let go of the sound dial and sat down on the sofa" in Chapter 3, paragraph [8],
line 1?
In Chapter 3, the mother seemed disappointed and accusing. In Chapter 7, she seemed neutral, just
stating a fact.
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--- 8 --Last week I sent a tuner over to my parent’s apartment and had the piano reconditioned, for
purely sentimental reasons. My mother had died a few months before and I had been getting
things in order for my father a little bit at a time. I put the jewelry in special silk pouches. The
sweaters she had knitted in yellow, pink, bright orange—all colors I hated—I put in moth-proof
boxes. I found some old Chinese silk dresses, the kind with little slits up the sides. I rubbed the
old silk against my skin, then wrapped them in tissue and decided to take them home with me.
[2] After I had the piano tuned, I opened the lid and touched the keys. It sounded even
richer than I remembered. Really, it was a very good piano. Inside the bench were the same
exercise notes with handwritten scales, the same secondhand music books with their covers
held together with yellow tape.
I opened up the Schumann book to the dark little piece I had played at the recital. It was on
the left-hand page, “Pleading Child.” It looked more difficult than I remembered. I played a few
bars, surprised at how easily the notes came back to me.
[4] And for the first time, or so it seemed, I noticed the piece on the right-hand side. It was
called “Perfectly Contented.” I tried to play this one as well. It had a lighter melody but with the
same flowing rhythm and turned out to be quite easy. “Pleading Child” was shorter but slower;
“Perfectly Contented” was longer but faster. And after I had played them both a few times, I
realized they were two halves of the same song.
Chapter 8 analysis
8.1. What is the narrator's tone as she rediscovered the piano in paragraph [2] ("After I had ... with
yellow tape")?
She was a little surprised at how that piano sounded.
8.2. In paragraph [4], lines 3-4, the author writes, ""Pleading Child" was shorter but slower; "Perfectly
Contented" was longer but faster. And after I played them both a few times, I realized that they were
two halves of the same song." How could this sentence be an analogy to the narrator's childhood and
upbringing?
She had always been a pleading child, but now she had become perfectly contented after patching things
up with her mother.
8.3. How did June's attitude toward the piano change?
A)
B)
C)
D)
She learned to have pride and affection toward it.
She realized that she was a genius at playing piano.
She was sad that she did not remember how to play it.
She regretted not listening to her mother and practicing more.
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