Short Story of the week: Thank You Ma'm by Langston Hughes.
Assignment: Your take home test is in your inbox. It must be emailed to Ms. Fuller BEFORE 8:00pm Friday October 30, 2009.
Journal Entries:
1. Have you ever had an interaction with someone who was not your family member, but they were able to change your life for the better? Discuss it. 250 words.
2. Describe Humanities and what you think it is. 100 words.
3. Take a stance: Should Charter Schools Replace Detroit Public Schools? 250 words.
4. Week 8 Vocabulary Sheet- Emailed by October 29, 2009
5. ACT Project Vocabulary Slides: Emailed October 30, 2009 Min 72 slides.
Monday, October 26, 2009
Thank You Mam by Langston Hughes
Thank You, M'am
She was a large woman with a large purse that had everything in it but hammer and nails. It had a long strap, and she carried it slung across her shoulder. It was about eleven o’clock at night, and she was walking alone, when a boy ran up behind her and tried to snatch her purse. The strap broke with the single tug the boy gave it from behind. But the boy’s weight and the weight of the purse combined caused him to lose his balance so, intsead of taking off full blast as he had hoped, the boy fell on his back on the sidewalk, and his legs flew up. the large woman simply turned around and kicked him right square in his blue-jeaned sitter. Then she reached down, picked the boy up by his shirt front, and shook him until his teeth rattled.
After that the woman said, "Pick up my pocketbook, boy, and give it here." She still held him. But she bent down enough to permit him to stoop and pick up her purse. Then she said, "Now ain’t you ashamed of yourself?"
Firmly gripped by his shirt front, the boy said, "Yes’m."
The woman said, "What did you want to do it for?"
The boy said, "I didn’t aim to."
She said, "You a lie!"
By that time two or three people passed, stopped, turned to look, and some stood watching.
"If I turn you loose, will you run?" asked the woman.
"Yes’m," said the boy.
"Then I won’t turn you loose," said the woman. She did not release him.
"I’m very sorry, lady, I’m sorry," whispered the boy.
"Um-hum! And your face is dirty. I got a great mind to wash your face for you. Ain’t you got nobody home to tell you to wash your face?"
"No’m," said the boy.
"Then it will get washed this evening," said the large woman starting up the street, dragging the frightened boy behind her.
He looked as if he were fourteen or fifteen, frail and willow-wild, in tennis shoes and blue jeans.
The woman said, "You ought to be my son. I would teach you right from wrong. Least I can do right now is to wash your face. Are you hungry?"
"No’m," said the being dragged boy. "I just want you to turn me loose."
"Was I bothering you when I turned that corner?" asked the woman.
"No’m."
"But you put yourself in contact with me," said the woman. "If you think that that contact is not going to last awhile, you got another though coming. When I get through with you, sir, you are going to remember Mrs. Luella Bates Washington Jones."
Sweat popped out on the boy’s face and he began to struggle. Mrs. Jones stopped, jerked him around in front of her, put a half-nelson about his neck, and continued to drag him up the street. When she got to her door, she dragged the boy inside, down a hall, and into a large kitchenette-furnished room at the rear of the house. She switched on the light and left the door open. The boy could hear other roomers laughing and talking in the large house. Some of their doors were open, too, so he knew he and the woman were not alone. The woman still had him by the neck in the middle of her room.
She said, "What is your name?"
"Roger," answered the boy.
"Then, roger, you go to that sink and wash your face," said the woman, whereupon she turned him loose--at last. Roger looked at the door—looked at the woman—looked at the door—and went to the sink.
Let the water run until it gets warm," she said. "Here’s a clean towel."
"You gonna take me to jail?" asked the boy, bending over the sink.
"Not with that face, I would not take you nowhere," said the woman. "Here I am trying to get home to cook me a bite to eat and you snatch my pocketbook! Maybe, you ain’t been to your supper either, late as it be. Have you?"
"There’s nobody home at my house," said the boy.
"Then we’ll eat," said the woman, "I believe you’re hungry—or been hungry—to try to snatch my pockekbook."
"I wanted a pair of blue suede shoes," said the boy.
"Well, you didn’t have to snatch my pocketbook to get some suede shoes," said Mrs. Luella Bates Washington Jones. "You could of asked me."
"M’am?"
The water dripping from his face, the boy looked at her. There was a long pause. A very long pause. After he had dried his face and not knowing what else to do dried it again, the boy turned around, wondering what next. The door was open. He could make a dash for it down the hall. He could run, run, run, run, run!
The woman was sitting on the day-bed. After a while she said, "I were young once and I wanted things I could not get."
There was another long pause. The boy’s mouth opened. Then he frowned, but not knowing he frowned.
The woman said, "Um-hum! You thought I was going to say but, didn’t you? You thought I was going to say, but I didn’t snatch people’s pocketbooks. Well, I wasn’t going to say that." Pause. Silence. "I have done things, too, which I would not tell you, son—neither tell God, if he didn’t already know. So you set down while I fix us something to eat. You might run that comb through your hair so you will look presentable."
In another corner of the room behind a screen was a gas plate and an icebox. Mrs. Jones got up and went behind the screen. The woman did not watch the boy to see if he was going to run now, nor did she watch her purse which she left behind her on the day-bed. But the boy took care to sit on the far side of the room where he thought she could easily see him out of the corner other eye, if she wanted to. He did not trust the woman not to trust him. And he did not want to be mistrusted now.
"Do you need somebody to go to the store," asked the boy, "maybe to get some milk or something?"
"Don’t believe I do," said the woman, "unless you just want sweet milk yourself. I was going to make cocoa out of this canned mild I got her."
"That will be fine," said the boy.
She heated some lima beans and ham she had in the icebox, made the cocoa, and set the table. The woman did not ask the boy anything about where he lived, or his folks, or anything else that would embarrass him. Instead, as they ate, she told him about her job in a hotel beauty-shop that stayed open late, what the work was like, and how all kinds of women came in and out, blondes, red-heads, and Spanish. Then she cut him a half of her ten-cent cake.
"Eat some more, son," she said.
When they were finished eating she got up and said, "Now, here, take this ten dollars and buy yourself some blue suede shoes. And next time, do not make the mistake of latching onto my pocketbook nor nobody else’s—because shoes come be devilish like that will burn your feet. I got to get my rest now. But I wish you would behave yourself, son, from here on in."
She led him down the hall to the front door and opened it. "Goodnight!" Behave yourself, boy!" she said, looking out into the street.
The boy wanted to say something else other that "Thank you, m’am" tto Mrs. Luella Bates Washington Jones, but he couldn’t do so as he turned at the barren stoop and looked back at the large woman in the door. He barely managed to say "Thank you" before she shut the door. And he never saw her again.
She was a large woman with a large purse that had everything in it but hammer and nails. It had a long strap, and she carried it slung across her shoulder. It was about eleven o’clock at night, and she was walking alone, when a boy ran up behind her and tried to snatch her purse. The strap broke with the single tug the boy gave it from behind. But the boy’s weight and the weight of the purse combined caused him to lose his balance so, intsead of taking off full blast as he had hoped, the boy fell on his back on the sidewalk, and his legs flew up. the large woman simply turned around and kicked him right square in his blue-jeaned sitter. Then she reached down, picked the boy up by his shirt front, and shook him until his teeth rattled.
After that the woman said, "Pick up my pocketbook, boy, and give it here." She still held him. But she bent down enough to permit him to stoop and pick up her purse. Then she said, "Now ain’t you ashamed of yourself?"
Firmly gripped by his shirt front, the boy said, "Yes’m."
The woman said, "What did you want to do it for?"
The boy said, "I didn’t aim to."
She said, "You a lie!"
By that time two or three people passed, stopped, turned to look, and some stood watching.
"If I turn you loose, will you run?" asked the woman.
"Yes’m," said the boy.
"Then I won’t turn you loose," said the woman. She did not release him.
"I’m very sorry, lady, I’m sorry," whispered the boy.
"Um-hum! And your face is dirty. I got a great mind to wash your face for you. Ain’t you got nobody home to tell you to wash your face?"
"No’m," said the boy.
"Then it will get washed this evening," said the large woman starting up the street, dragging the frightened boy behind her.
He looked as if he were fourteen or fifteen, frail and willow-wild, in tennis shoes and blue jeans.
The woman said, "You ought to be my son. I would teach you right from wrong. Least I can do right now is to wash your face. Are you hungry?"
"No’m," said the being dragged boy. "I just want you to turn me loose."
"Was I bothering you when I turned that corner?" asked the woman.
"No’m."
"But you put yourself in contact with me," said the woman. "If you think that that contact is not going to last awhile, you got another though coming. When I get through with you, sir, you are going to remember Mrs. Luella Bates Washington Jones."
Sweat popped out on the boy’s face and he began to struggle. Mrs. Jones stopped, jerked him around in front of her, put a half-nelson about his neck, and continued to drag him up the street. When she got to her door, she dragged the boy inside, down a hall, and into a large kitchenette-furnished room at the rear of the house. She switched on the light and left the door open. The boy could hear other roomers laughing and talking in the large house. Some of their doors were open, too, so he knew he and the woman were not alone. The woman still had him by the neck in the middle of her room.
She said, "What is your name?"
"Roger," answered the boy.
"Then, roger, you go to that sink and wash your face," said the woman, whereupon she turned him loose--at last. Roger looked at the door—looked at the woman—looked at the door—and went to the sink.
Let the water run until it gets warm," she said. "Here’s a clean towel."
"You gonna take me to jail?" asked the boy, bending over the sink.
"Not with that face, I would not take you nowhere," said the woman. "Here I am trying to get home to cook me a bite to eat and you snatch my pocketbook! Maybe, you ain’t been to your supper either, late as it be. Have you?"
"There’s nobody home at my house," said the boy.
"Then we’ll eat," said the woman, "I believe you’re hungry—or been hungry—to try to snatch my pockekbook."
"I wanted a pair of blue suede shoes," said the boy.
"Well, you didn’t have to snatch my pocketbook to get some suede shoes," said Mrs. Luella Bates Washington Jones. "You could of asked me."
"M’am?"
The water dripping from his face, the boy looked at her. There was a long pause. A very long pause. After he had dried his face and not knowing what else to do dried it again, the boy turned around, wondering what next. The door was open. He could make a dash for it down the hall. He could run, run, run, run, run!
The woman was sitting on the day-bed. After a while she said, "I were young once and I wanted things I could not get."
There was another long pause. The boy’s mouth opened. Then he frowned, but not knowing he frowned.
The woman said, "Um-hum! You thought I was going to say but, didn’t you? You thought I was going to say, but I didn’t snatch people’s pocketbooks. Well, I wasn’t going to say that." Pause. Silence. "I have done things, too, which I would not tell you, son—neither tell God, if he didn’t already know. So you set down while I fix us something to eat. You might run that comb through your hair so you will look presentable."
In another corner of the room behind a screen was a gas plate and an icebox. Mrs. Jones got up and went behind the screen. The woman did not watch the boy to see if he was going to run now, nor did she watch her purse which she left behind her on the day-bed. But the boy took care to sit on the far side of the room where he thought she could easily see him out of the corner other eye, if she wanted to. He did not trust the woman not to trust him. And he did not want to be mistrusted now.
"Do you need somebody to go to the store," asked the boy, "maybe to get some milk or something?"
"Don’t believe I do," said the woman, "unless you just want sweet milk yourself. I was going to make cocoa out of this canned mild I got her."
"That will be fine," said the boy.
She heated some lima beans and ham she had in the icebox, made the cocoa, and set the table. The woman did not ask the boy anything about where he lived, or his folks, or anything else that would embarrass him. Instead, as they ate, she told him about her job in a hotel beauty-shop that stayed open late, what the work was like, and how all kinds of women came in and out, blondes, red-heads, and Spanish. Then she cut him a half of her ten-cent cake.
"Eat some more, son," she said.
When they were finished eating she got up and said, "Now, here, take this ten dollars and buy yourself some blue suede shoes. And next time, do not make the mistake of latching onto my pocketbook nor nobody else’s—because shoes come be devilish like that will burn your feet. I got to get my rest now. But I wish you would behave yourself, son, from here on in."
She led him down the hall to the front door and opened it. "Goodnight!" Behave yourself, boy!" she said, looking out into the street.
The boy wanted to say something else other that "Thank you, m’am" tto Mrs. Luella Bates Washington Jones, but he couldn’t do so as he turned at the barren stoop and looked back at the large woman in the door. He barely managed to say "Thank you" before she shut the door. And he never saw her again.
Friday, October 23, 2009
MONDAY'S MAKE UP PAPER
If you have to make up your writing assignment that was due Friday October 23, 2009
You MAY Submit it on Monday October 26, 2009.
However it is STILL to be TYPED, PRINTED, RUBRIC ATTACHED and Submitted on Monday DURING MORNING MEETING.
The highest grade awarded will be a 75%
IT MUST BE IN THE HUMANITIES 9 FORMAT.
You MAY Submit it on Monday October 26, 2009.
However it is STILL to be TYPED, PRINTED, RUBRIC ATTACHED and Submitted on Monday DURING MORNING MEETING.
The highest grade awarded will be a 75%
IT MUST BE IN THE HUMANITIES 9 FORMAT.
Monday, October 19, 2009
WEEK 7
Hello Everyone
On Thursday we will embark upon the MEAP exam. This means that your vocab list homework is due WEDNESDAY.
Writing Assignment: Write 500 word essay (min. 7 sentences per paragraph). This paper should be TYPED AND PRINTED OUT! It is due FRIDAY OCTOBER 23, 2009
Put the word count under the last paragraph.
Why were the actions of Montressor wrong? If you were to speak to Montressor, how would you advise him to respond?"
Tell Montressor about a time in which you were treated wrong, and how you handled it maturely. OR about a time in which you were treated wrong, and handled the situation wrong and the consequences of it.
Note: It would be wise for you to re-read the strory.
On Thursday we will embark upon the MEAP exam. This means that your vocab list homework is due WEDNESDAY.
Writing Assignment: Write 500 word essay (min. 7 sentences per paragraph). This paper should be TYPED AND PRINTED OUT! It is due FRIDAY OCTOBER 23, 2009
Put the word count under the last paragraph.
Why were the actions of Montressor wrong? If you were to speak to Montressor, how would you advise him to respond?"
Tell Montressor about a time in which you were treated wrong, and how you handled it maturely. OR about a time in which you were treated wrong, and handled the situation wrong and the consequences of it.
Note: It would be wise for you to re-read the strory.
Monday, October 12, 2009
Week 6 Objectives
Short Story of the Week: The Cask of Amontillado by Edgar Allen Poe.
Vocabulary Homework: Worksheet is due Thursday IN CLASS
Vocabulary Slides: All 50 words should be present on your slides this week. Due FRIDAY October 16, 2009 by 5:00pm Points will be taken off for late work.
Journal Assignments:
1. Find three facts about Edgar Allen Poe and discuss them. Journal Assignment 250 words.
2. Pretend as if I have never read the Cask of Amontillado by Edgar Allen Poe, Summarize the short story in no more that 250 words.
Journal Assignments are due by SATURDAY October 17, 2009.
During this week, we will read "Dove" in class. You will receive your study guide for this selection in class.
Ensure that your subject line in your emails, reflect the assigment that you are submitting.
http://poestories.com/read/amontillado
Vocabulary Homework: Worksheet is due Thursday IN CLASS
Vocabulary Slides: All 50 words should be present on your slides this week. Due FRIDAY October 16, 2009 by 5:00pm Points will be taken off for late work.
Journal Assignments:
1. Find three facts about Edgar Allen Poe and discuss them. Journal Assignment 250 words.
2. Pretend as if I have never read the Cask of Amontillado by Edgar Allen Poe, Summarize the short story in no more that 250 words.
Journal Assignments are due by SATURDAY October 17, 2009.
During this week, we will read "Dove" in class. You will receive your study guide for this selection in class.
Ensure that your subject line in your emails, reflect the assigment that you are submitting.
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