Process Booklet - BLSD · For Conversation, Press #1 by Michael Alvear ... the questions in the Process Booklet please instruct the marker that your answer is continued on pages 41

16319

Grade 12 English Language Arts Standards Test

Process Booklet

January 2015

Table of Contents Overview ii

Sequence of Activities

Group Discussion about Connections 3

Activating Your Thoughts 3

Texts 5

Quotations and Visuals 5

Service dogs provide comfort for Afghan veterans with PTSD that

pharmaceuticals can't provide by Garret Dwyer-Joyce 8

Watching and Waiting by Morley Callaghan I I

Chris Barrett: Filmmaker, Entrepreneur, and Author by Elizabeth Licorish 15

The Old Moscow Woman by Ralph Gustafson 18

Meeting Grandma by Shirley Jackson-Avery 19

For Conversation, Press #1 by Michael Alvear

with Blondie comic strip by Dean Young and Denis Lebrun 20

Nighthawks by Edward Hopper 22

The Compassionate Enemy by Renie S. Burghardt 23

Connecting Ideas 25

Previewing the Writing Task 26

Planning and Developing Your Text 27

Developing Your Text 28

Drafting 28

Revising and Editing 28

Reflecting 29

Explaining Your Writing Variables 30

Final Copy 31

Bibliography 39

Extra Page 41

Draft Paper (tear-out) 45

Overview

You are beginning the Grade 12 English Language Arts Standards Test on the topic Connections. The test provides texts and test activities for students in Grade 12 Comprehensive Focus, Literary Focus, and Transactional Focus courses.

Test Activities

You will be involved in a variety of test activities over four days. The flow chart on the opposite page outlines the sequence of activities, the marks, and the time allocated for each activity.

All work is to be completed independently, except for the group discussion on Day 1.

Caution regarding cheating: Cheating on any aspect of the test will result in a test score of zero. This includes removing any test materials from the room, bringing outside notes to the test, or plagiarizing. Plagiarism is defined as the presentation of someone's ideas or writings as one's own.

Student Test Booklets

You will use two booklets for the test.

I. Process Booklet You will have this booldet for all four test sessions. You may go forward or back to any section of this Process Booklet throughout the test process.

2. Responding to Text You will receive the Responding to Text booklet after the group discussion. You will have this booklet for the remainder of the Day 1 session only.

Draft Paper (tear-out) is provided at the back of this booklet and is to be used for planning and drafting your text beginning on Day 2.

Extra Pages are provided at the back of this booklet. Should you require more space for any of the questions in the Process Booklet please instruct the marker that your answer is continued on pages 41 to 44.

All test materials must be submitted at the end of each session.

Student Materials

You will need a black or dark blue ink pen for responses that will be marked. HB pencil, eraser, and highlighter may be used for all other parts of the test. You may use an English or bilingual dictionary, thesaurus, and grammar handbook during all test sessions. However, no other outside material of any type may be brought into any test session, nor may any test-related materials be taken from the test room. Computers, computer software, or electronic devices of any kind are not to be used.

Day 1

Exploring the Topic

• Group Discussion about Connections

Reading and Responding to Text

35 marks

Previewing Connecting Ideas

20 minutes

160 minutes

5 marks

Day 2

Connecting Ideas

Planning and Developing Your Text

• Planning Your Writing Variables

• Brainstorming for Ideas

• Drafting

5 marks

Day 4

40 marks

Explaining Your Writing Variables

Writing and Proofreading

Submit all materials


• Revising and Editing

Reflecting

Sequence of Activities



e—You may go forward or back to any section of this booklet during the test process.—>

English Language Arts: Process Booklet (January 2015)

1

2 English Language Arts: Process Booklet (January 2015)

View Share and record any ideas that come to mind as a result of scanning the texts on pages 8-24./

Listen Share and record any ideas prompted by listening to group members read the poem(s) on pages 18-19 two or three times.

Booklet #

Group Discussion about Connections Activating Your Thoughts

(20 minutes)

Brainstorm

Examine Share and record any significant memories,

Share and record any ideas that come to

ideas, or stories about the topic. mind as a result of reading the quotations and looking at the visuals on pages 5-7.

Preview Read the writing task on pages 26-27 and consider the focus questions for the text you will be writing on days 2,3, and 4.

English Language Arls: Process Booklet (January 2015) 3

Day 1

Following your group discussion, you will receive the Responding to Text booklet. Read each question carefully prior to reading the appropriate text(s). You will have the Responding to Text booklet for today only.

Remember to put this sheet inside the back cover of this Process Booklet at the end of today's test session.

4


Day 1

Sometimes you have to get to know someone really well to realize you're really strangers.

-Mary Tvler Moore

Where we

love is home, home that our feet may leave, but not our

hearts.

-Oliver Wendell Holmes

Shared joy is a double joy; shared sorrow is half a sorrow.

-Swedish Proverb

English Language Arts: Process Booklet (January 2015) 5

Day 1

The most I can do for

my friend is simply be his friend. —Henry David Thoreau

Books can be a form of salvation, a way out of loneliness, a method of understanding and of being understood.

— Her Excellency the Right Honourable Adrienne Clarkson, Governor General of Canada

Lots of people want to ride with you in the limo, but what you want is someone who will take the bus with you when the limo breaks down.

—Oprah Winfrey

6


Day 1

The life and

love we create is the

life and love we live.

—Leo Buscalia

hope people will finally come to realize that there is only one "race"—the human race—and that we are all members of it.

—Margaret Atwood

The most important ingredient we put into any relationship is not what we say or what we do, but what we are.

—Stephen R. Covey

Note: For more information about the visuals, see pages 39-40.


Day 1

Service dogs provide comfort for Afghan veterans with PTSD that pharmaceuticals can't provide

by Garret Dwyer Joyce

Canadian soldiers now have an ally in their battle with PTSD— service dogs that provide companionship, emotional security and comfort.

Before Geoff Logue got Luna, his PTSD threatened to destroy his marriage. Logue served in the Provincial Reconstruction Team in Afghanistan.

The first thing you notice about Geoff Logue is his wariness — the way he looks around, taking in the scene, noting details.

He's a corporal in the Canadian Forces who served in the Provincial Reconstruction Team in Afghanistan and came home with post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD). Everyday routines, like going to the mall, have become an ordeal. The noise, the crowds, being exposed in the open with nowhere to hide, all trigger the responses he learned as a soldier.

"I was outside the wire almost every day on missions," he said. "And you have to watch your surroundings. You have to look for cues, anything that's suspicious."

Trained to be suspicious, always watching his

back, Logue hasn't been able to turn off that switch. But now he has an ally in his battle with PTSD. She is a 2-year old German Shepherd/Lab called Luna.

"She provides that extra security and the comfort level," he said. "She really helps calm me down."

Luna is much more than a pet. She's one of 37 psychiatric service dogs in a remarkable program developed in Manitoba by George Leonard, a certified dog trainer who is part of an aboriginal group that has trained more than 350 service dogs of all kinds.

The American and British military have used dogs to treat PTSD for years but this program is a first for Canada.


Day 1

It's not just the dogs being trained. The soldiers are learning, too. And that's a form of therapy.

"It's 24-hour therapy," said Leonard. "And the great thing about a military guy — and this is all 37 guys I work with — is you tell them A-B-C, you're going to get A-B-C. They are actively involved in the training, so they're training the dog with you."

Before he got Luna, Logue's PTSD threatened to destroy his marriage. He was depressed, on prescription drugs and drinking too much. It got so bad his daughter, Abigail, just a toddler at the time, would try to stop him.

"She would see me with a beer," he said. "And she would come up and tell me, 'Daddy only one more.' And it was really hard for me."

It was rough going for a while, but when Luna became part of the family, the bond between her and Logue made life easier.

"They're inseparable," said Logue's wife, Crystal. "I've never seen anybody with a relationship like them. They're amazing."

Having a service dog helped another veteran of Afghanistan, Jesse Veltri, dampen the demons of PTSD.

"It's been really relaxing having (Farrah) with me," he said. "I've lots to pay attention to. She's my attention and I don't have to concentrate on everybody else. My head's not spinning around in circles like it usually does."

Before he got Farrah, Veltri rarely left his house.

"I didn't want to be around anybody," he said. "I was so depressed and so out of it that I just — didn't care about my life anymore."

Drinking and taking heavy medication, Veltri's spiral towards self-destruction seemed unstoppable.

The aggression he needed to survive as a soldier in Afghanistan just wouldn't switch off as a civilian at home in Brandon, Man.

And when he did leave his house, he would go looking for a fight.

"I was actually going out to bars and finding individuals to fight," he said. "It seemed like the necessary thing to be doing because your adrenaline is pumping so much."

After he got Farrah, a Shepherd/Collie mix, another soldier suggested he should contact Leonard to have her trained as a service dog.

Having a trained dog helped him channel his aggression in a new way and now Veltri is a rising star in mixed martial arts tournaments.

"This dog has made me the calmest person in the world," he said. "Win or lose. It doesn't really matter. Because when I go home at the end of the day, she'll be there waiting for me and she'll want the same thing, which is, go take me for a walk, give me some food and give me some water and show me some love."

It's such a simple formula. Food, water and love. But the psychiatric service dog program doesn't come for free.

Right now, Leonard and his trainers volunteer their time.

The Canadian Legion and other donors help pay the $1,200 for the custom-made vests that identify a service dog. But the soldiers themselves are on the hook for veterinary care and food. That's a lot for a veteran on a disability pension.

The Departments of National Defence and VAC, Veterans Affairs Canada, both endorse the program, but so far, they're not willing to pay for it.

"We're not asking for a whole lot," said Logue. "But we have our dogs for a reason because of our disability, serving for our country."

Leonard points out that the soldiers don't need so much medication when they have a service dog, so why not use the money saved to help them


Day 1

with the cost of training and looking after the dogs.

Later this month, the Standing Committee on National Defence in Ottawa will hear this argument when a group of soldiers and their dogs appear before them to underline the success of the psychiatric service dog program in Manitoba.

"We have 37 people that are all still alive, that are all significantly better than when they started," said Leonard. "Can a pharmaceutical company do that? Hell, no. And we don't have walking zombies. We have people that are interacting, that are engaging."

Take Master Cpl. Bill Nachuk. A veteran of the conflicts in Bosnia and Afghanistan, his PTSD was so bad that he attempted suicide four times. Now, he has Gambler, an Australian cattle dog, who has become his constant companion.

Gambler was the first service dog ever to be allowed on a Canadian Forces base with an active soldier. With Gambler, Nachuk is off medication and can continue his military career.

"If I get very emotional for an extended period of time, he'll actually sit up or he'll whine," said Nachuk. "He'll put his head on my lap. He'll do something to break me out of that moment and bring me back to now."

Garret Dwyer-Joyce is a producer for CTV's W5, which is a Canadian current affairs/news magazine program.


Day 1

Iniatt+ir9 and Waiting by Morley Callaghan

Whenever Thomas Hilliard, the lawyer, watched his young wife dancing with men of her own age, he was very sad, for she seemed to glow with a laughter and elation that didn't touch her life with him at all. He was jealous, he knew; but his jealousy at that time made him feel humble. It gave him the fumbling tenderness of a young boy. But as time passed and he saw that his humility only added to her feeling of security, he grew sullen and furtive and began to spy on her.

At times he realized that he was making her life wretched, and in his great shame he struggled hard against the distrust of her that was breaking the peace of his soul. In his longing to be alone with her, so that he would be free to offer her whatever goodness there was in him, he insisted that they move out to the country and renovate the old farmhouse on the lake where he had been born. There they lived like two scared prisoners in the house that was screened from the lane by three old oak trees. He went into the city only three days a week and his business was soon ruined by such neglect.

One evening Thomas Hilliard was putting his bag in the car, getting ready to return to the city. He was in a hurry, for the sky was darkening; the wind had broken the surface of the lake into choppy little waves with whitecaps, and soon it would rain A gust of wind slammed an open window. Above the noise of the water on the beach, he heard his wife's voice calling, rising eagerly as it went farther away from the house.

She was calling, 'Just a minute, Joe,' and she was running down to the gate by the lane, with the wind blowing her short fair hair back from her head as she ran.

At the gate a young man was getting out of a car, waving his hand to her like an old friend, and calling: Did you want to speak to me, Mrs Hilliard?'

Ì wanted to ask you to do something for me,' she said. The young man, laughing, lifted a large green bass from a pail in the back of his car, and he said:

caught it not more than half an hour ago. Will you take it, Mrs Hilliard?' 'Isn't it a beauty!' she said, holding it out at arm's length on the stick he had thrust through the jaws.

'You shouldn't be giving such a beauty away.' And she laughed, a free careless laugh that was carried up to the house on the wind.

For a while there was nothing Thomas Hilliard could heat but the murmur of his wife's voice mixed with the murmur of the young man's voice; but the way the laughter had poured out of her, and the look of pleasure on the young man's face, made him tense with resentment. He began to feel sure he had been actually thinking of that one man for months without ever naming him, that he had even been wondering about him while he was packing his bag and thinking of the drive into the city. Why was the young man so friendly that first time he had stopped them, on the main street of the town, when they were doing their weekend shopping, to explain that his name was Joe Whaley and he was their neighbour? That was something he had been wondering about for a long time. And every afternoon when Joe Whaley was off shore in his motorboat, he used to stand up and wave to them, the length of his lean young body outlined against the sky. It was as though all these things had been laid aside in Thomas Hilliard's head, to be given a sudden meaning now in the eager laughter of his wife, in her voice calling, and the pleasure on the young man's face.

He became so excited that he started to run down to the gate; and as he ran, his face was full of yearning and despair. They watched him coming, looking at each other doubtfully. When his wife saw how old and broken he looked, she suddenly dropped the fish in the dust of the road.


Day 1

'Hey, there! Wait a minute,' he was calling to the young man, who had turned away awkwardly. Did you want to speak to me, Mr Hilliard?' Joe Whaley said. 'Is there something you want?' Hilliard asked. 'I just stopped a moment to give you people the fish.' 'I'd like to know, that's all,' Hilliard said, and he smiled foolishly. The young man, who was astonished, mumbled some kind of an apology and got into his car. He

drove up the lane with the engine racing, and the strong wind from the lake whirling the dust in a cloud across the fields.

Speaking quietly, as if nothing had happened to surprise her, Mrs Hilliard began, `Did you think there was something the matter, Tom?' But then her voice broke, and she cried out: `Why did you come running down here like that?'

'I heard the way you laughed,' he said. 'What was the matter with the way I laughed?' 'Don't you see how it would strike me? I haven't heard you laugh like that for such a long time.' 'I was only asking him if he'd be passing by the station tonight. I was going to ask him if he'd bring

my mother here, if she was on the right train.' Ì don't believe that. You're making up a story,' he shouted. It was the first time he had openly accused her of deceit; and when she tried to smile at him, her eyes

were full of terror. It was as though she knew she was helpless at last, and she said slowly: 'I don't know why you keep staring at me. You're frightening me. I can't bear the way you watch me. It's been going on for such a long time. I've got to speak to someone—can't you see? It's dreadfully lonely here.'

She was staring out over the choppy wind-swept water: she turned and looked up with a child's wonder at the great oak trees that shut the house off from the road. 'I can't stand it any longer,' she said, her voice soft and broken. 'I've been a good wife. I had such an admiration for you when we started. There was nothing I wouldn't have trusted you with. And now I don't know what's happened to us.' This was the first time she had ever tried to tell him of her hidden desolation; but all he could see was that her smile as she pleaded with him was pathetically false.

'You're lying You're scared of what might happen,' he shouted. 'I've known how you've been watching me, and I've kept asking myself what the both of us have

been waiting for,' she said. As the wind, driving through the leaves of the trees, rattled a window on the side of the house, and the last of the light faded from the lake, she cried out: What are we waiting for, day after day?'

'I'm not waiting any more,' he shouted. 'I'm going. You don't need to worry about me watching you any more. I'll not come back this time.' He felt crazy as he started to run over to the car.

Running after him, she cried out: 'I've kept hoping something would happen to make it different, something that would save us. I've prayed for it at night, just wanting you to be like you were three years ago.'

But he had started the car, and it came at her so suddenly that she had to jump out of the way When the car lurched up the lane, he heard her cry out, but the words were blown away on the wind. He looked back, and saw her standing stiff by the gate, with both hands up to her head.

He drove up to the highway, swinging the car around so wildly at the turn by the grocery-store that the proprietor shouted at him He began to like the way the car clipped at high speed down the deep valleys, and rose and fell with him always rigid and unthinking. When he reached the top of the highest hill in the country, the first of the rain whipped across his face, slashing and cutting at him in the way they slap the face of a fighter who has been beaten and is coming out of a stupor. His arms were trembling so he stopped the car; and there he sat for a long time, looking out over the hills in the night rain, at the low country whose roll and rise could be followed by the line of lights curving around


Day 1

the lake through the desolation of the wooded valleys and the rain-swept fields of this country of his boyhood, a gleaming line of light leading back to the farm and his wife.

There was a flash of lightning, and the fields and pasture-land gleamed for a moment in the dark. Then he seemed to hear her voice crying out above the wind: 'I've been waiting for so long!' And he muttered: 'How lost and frightened she'll be alone there on a night like this.' He knew then that he could go no farther. With his heart, full of yearning for the tenderness he knew she had offered to him, he kept repeating: Ì can't leave her. I can't ever leave her. I'll go back and ask her to forgive me.'

So he sighed and was ashamed; and he drove back slowly along the way he had come, making up in his head fine little speeches that would make his wife laugh and forgive him.

But when he had turned off the highway and was going down the lane that led to the house, he suddenly thought it could do no harm if he stopped the car before it was heard, and went up to the house quietly to make sure no one else was there.

Such a notion made him feel terribly ashamed. As the car rocked in the ruts and puddles of the dirt road, and the headlights gleamed on the wet leaves from over-hanging branches, he was filled with a profound sadness, as if he knew instinctively that no matter how he struggled, he would not be able to stop himself from sneaking up to the house like a spy Stopping the car, he sat staring at the shuttered windows through which the light hardly filtered, mumbling: Tve got a heart like a snake's nest. I've come back to ask her to forgive me.' Yet as he watched the strips of light on the shutters, he found himself thinking it could do no harm to make sure she was alone, that this would be the last time he would ever spy on her.

As he got out of the car, he stood a while in the road, getting soaking wet, assuring himself he had no will to be evil. And then as he started to drag his feet through the puddles, he knew he was helpless against his hunger to justify his lack of faith in her.

Swinging open the gate and crossing the grass underneath the oak tree, he stopped softly on the veranda and turned the door-knob slowly When he found that the door was locked, his heart began to beat unevenly and he went to pound the door with his fist. Then he grew very cunning. Jumping down to the grass, he went cautiously around to the side of the house, pressed his head against the shutters and listened. The rain streamed down his face and ran into his open mouth.

He heard the sound of his wife's voice, and though he could not make out the words, he knew she was talking earnestly to someone. Her voice seemed to be breaking; she seemed to be sobbing, pleading that she be comforted. His heart began to beat so loud he was sure they would be able to hear it. He grabbed at the shutter and tried to pry it open with his hand, but his fingers grew numb, and the back of his hand began to bleed. Stepping back from the house, he looked around wildly for some heavy stick or piece of iron. He remembered where there was an old horseshoe imbedded in the mud by the gate, and running there, he got down on his knees and scraped with his fingers, and he grinned in delight when he tugged the old horseshoe out of the mud.

But when he had inserted the iron prongs of the shoe between the shutters, and had started to use his weight, he realized that his wife was no longer talking. She was coming over to the window He heard her gasp and utter a little cry He heard her running from the room.

Full of despair, as though he were being cheated of the discovery he had been patiently seeking for years, he stepped back from the house, trembling with eagerness. The light in the room where he had loosened the shutter was suddenly turned out. He turned and ran back up the lane to the car, and got his flashlight.

This time he went round to the other side of the house, listening for the smallest sounds which might tell him where they were hiding, but it was hard to hear anything above the noise of the wind in the trees and the roll of the waves on the shore. At the kitchen window at the back of the house he pulled at the shutter. He heard them running out of the room.


Day 1

The longing to look upon the face of the one who was with his wife became so great that he could hardly think of his wife at all. 'They probably went upstairs to the bedroom. That's where they'll be. I think I heard them going up the stairs.' He went over to the garage and brought out the ladder they had used to paint the house, and put it up against the bedroom window and started to climb on the slippery rungs with the flashlight clutched in his hand, eager for the joy that would be his if he could see without being seen.

The voices he heard as he lay against the ladder were broken with fright; he began to feel all the terror that grew in them as they ran from room to room and whispered and listened and hid in the darkness and longed to cry out.

But they must have heard some noise he made at the window, for before he was ready to use the flashlight, they ran from the room; they hurried downstairs in a way that showed they no longer cared what noise they made, they fled as though they intended to keep on going out of the front door and up the lane.

If he had taken the time to climb down the ladder, they might have succeeded; but instead of doing that, he wrapped his arms and legs around the wet rails and slid to the ground; he got over to the oak tree, and was hidden, his flashlight pointed at the door, before they came out.

As they came running from the house, he kept hidden and flashed the light on them, catching his wife in the strong beam of light, and making her stop dead and scream. She was carrying the rifle he used for hunting in the fall.

With a crazy joy he stepped out and swung the light on the other one; it was his wife's mother, stooped in horror. They were both held in the glare of the light, blinking and cringing in terror, while he tried to remember that the mother was to come to the house. And then his wife shrieked and pointed the gun into the darkness at the end of the beam of light, and fired; and he called out helplessly: 'Marion '

But it was hurting him on his breast. The light dropped from his hand as he sank to the ground and began to cough.

Then his wife snatched up the light and let it shine on his face: 'Oh, Tom, Tom! Look what I've done,' she moaned.

The mother was still on her knees, stiff with fright. His hand held against his breast was wet with warm blood; and as his head sank back on the grass

he called out jerkily to the mother: `Go on—hurry! Get someone—for Marion. I'm dying. I want to tell them how it happened.'

The mother, shrieking, hobbled over to the lane, and her cries for help were carried away on the wind.

With his weeping wife huddled over him, he lay dying in the rain. But when he groped with his hand and touched her head, his soul was suddenly overwhelmed by an agony of remorse for his lack of faith in her: in these few moments he longed to be able to show her all the comforting tenderness she had missed in the last three years. 'Forgive me,' he whispered. It was my fault--if only you could forgive me.' He wanted to soothe the fright out of her before the others came running up from the lane.

Morley Callaghan (1903-1990) was an award-winning Canadian short story writer, novelist, playwright, and journalist.


Chris Barrett Filmmaker, Entrepreneur, and Author

Quick Facts: o The first corporately-sponsored college student in America

O Youngest patent holder for a children's product—"My Little Footsteps"

O Co-authored the book Direct Your Own Life with Napoleon Dynamite's Efren Ramirez

O Featured in the documentaries The Corporation and Plaxed Out

o Currently directing a documentary film called After School

0 Featured in the book Innovation for Underdogs

Day 1

No dream is too crazy for anyone to pursue. I'm living proof that wild ideas can land creative people in the most extraordinary

places. I grew up just a regular kid living in southern New Jersey. In high school I was pretty average; I played sports and hung out with my friends, but I always dreamed of doing big things. One day, that dream completely changed the course of my life.

Growing up, I never felt pressure to run with the crowd and I refused to put price tags on my goals. So when it came time to apply to colleges, I decided not to limit my search to more economical East Coast schools. Instead, I dreamed of attending a beautiful campus in California.

So the summer before my senior year of high school, my family decided to sacrifice its usual summer vacation in order to take a tour of California's top schools. Luckily, my friend Luke got to come along. Luke and I had been great friends all throughout high school, and we were happy to discover that we both hoped to leave our hometown for a West Coast university.

I was really fortunate to have a friend who was just as passionate as I was about the same goal. Working toward a common goal with another person gave me the confidence and inspiration I needed to make my dream a reality. Conquering any project, whether you want to climb Mt. Everest or you just want to get into a good school, is always easier when you are part of a supportive team.

During our trip, Luke and I got to visit the

really spectacular campuses of the University of Southern California, Pepperdine University, and the University of California, Los Angeles. We were truly blown away by the brilliant blue water, the gorgeous gardens, and the fantastic architecture; everything about California exceeded even our highest expectations. However, though these schools looked beautiful, Luke and I eventually became sticker-shocked by the cost of attending them. It was crushing to imagine the debt we would accumulate if we did decide to go to school in California. Suddenly the beautiful blue water seemed green with all of the dollars and cents we couldn't afford to pay.

After our last college tour, Luke and I headed back to our hotel room a little depressed. After dreaming of California for so long, the reality of sky-high tuition costs was finally setting in. One of us put the television on as a distraction, and soon we found ourselves watching Tiger Woods give a press conference after a round of golf He was wearing a Nike hat and talking about his next sponsored tour.

Within seconds of seeing this, Luke and I looked at each other and said, "That's it! Why don't we get sponsored to go to college?" All of a sudden, it seemed to make sense that two regular students could be just as valuable to companies as famous athletes are. Tiger Woods was wearing a Nike hat because Nike was paying him to be a spokesperson for the company The idea was that Tiger would attract other athletes to the Nike brand—just by wearing it. So why wouldn't a


Day 1

company want to sponsor two college students? Luke and I figured we could become spokesguys for a company we liked and wear its logo 24/7. That way, for just the cost of our college tuitions, the company could work through us to reach one of the most lucrative demographics out there: college students.

Luke and I had a great idea; the challenge was to put our plan to work. After applying our situation to what we already knew about sponsorship, we decided that the only way to attract the attention we needed was to advertise ourselves. So we started a website. Owning and operating a domain name is one of the most powerful, yet inexpensive ways to promote yourself and almost any dream you choose to pursue.

If you want to become a writer, establish a blog and publish your pieces. If you want to become an artist, establish an online store and start selling your work. In order to breathe life into our dream, Luke and I put up our own website at www.chrisandluke.com. The site was simple, but it had a distinct message. It explained who Luke and I were and exactly where we were willing to advertise a sponsor in exchange for the cost of our college tuitions: on our cars, on our clothes, and even on our own bodies! Luke decided that he was willing to get a logo tattoo. The website also included a photo gallery with pictures of us displaying catch phrases such as "Your Logo Here" printed on our T-shirts. Luke and I weren't exactly sure where our website would take us; however we knew it gave our goal a start.

We were pretty shocked when, only twenty-four hours after launching the website, local press began calling us for interviews. In just a few days, Luke and I were being interviewed about our sponsorship quest on multiple morning rock radio shows. We were excited to tell each radio host that we wanted to be spokesguys for a company seeking to open or expand its college marketing

campaign. We also made it very clear that we weren't interested in working with a company that advertised tobacco, sex, alcohol, or drugs. Luke and I knew that the best way to achieve our goals was to undertake a project that would, in turn, help other people. We wanted to embrace a company that had college students' best interests at heart.

Just one week after we launched chrisandluke.com, Luke and I appeared on over 150 radio shows. Then local newspapers began requesting interviews and photo-shoots; soon after that, we appeared on national television networks such as ABC, NBC, CBS, and Fox. During the last few months of our senior year in high school, Luke and I appeared in national magazines such as People, Teen, and Cos tnoGirl .

At the same time, the business sections of newspapers such as the New York Post and USA Today pegged us as "Up and Comers to Watch!" in the business world. As more and more news outlets began covering our sponsorship search, our schedules became increasingly hectic. On a typical day, Luke and I would wake up at 6 A.M. to do live radio interviews. Then we would rush to school to attend our morning classes. We'd leave at lunch to do more interviews, and then rush back to school to finish our day. It was truly an extraordinary experience!

When you tackle a goal, you'll often find that what you ultimately achieve is greater than what you initially try to accomplish. When Luke and I first started our campaign, we figured that the only way to get a sponsored education was to sell a company ad space on our bodies and clothes. However, as sponsorship offers began rolling in, we realized that what companies really wanted were college spokesguys who were thoughtful, articulate, and passionate about campaigning for a product or service. We were really happy to discover that a sponsorship opportunity would do more than transform us into human billboards. It would give us the opportunity to become crucial components of a meaningful company's marketing initiative.

Because of all the media attention we generated with just one simple website, Luke and I received sponsorship offers from over twenty companies in just a matter of months. Our prospective sponsors included giants such as AT&T and HotJobs as well as much smaller startup businesses. We were incredibly flattered that so many wonderful companies wanted to become our sponsors, but at that point we didn't yet think we had found our match. So we decided to keep reaching out through


Day 1

Don'l pu4 a price -Las

on ijour

dreams.

the media until we discovered the sponsorship opportunity that was just right for us.

After searching for a few more weeks, Luke and I received a call from First USA, a division of Chicago's Bank One located in Wilmington, Delaware. The company's marketing people explained that they had read of our mission in People magazine and that they were extremely intrigued by our original idea. Coincidentally, First USA had begun developing a national college financial responsibility campaign at the same time Luke and I announced our sponsorship search. As we learned about First USA's college campaign, Luke and I could feel the stars align; we had found the perfect sponsor.

The truth is that many college students run into serious financial trouble in just their very first months of campus living. Credit card companies are constantly soliciting students at colleges and universities, offering them large amounts of credit with low interest rates and bonus free T-shirts. Many young people are so enticed by the thrill of owning plastic that they sign up for multiple credit cards in just a few weeks. Most of those students use their cards to spend beyond their means, accumulating massive debt by the end of their freshman years.

Owing creditors huge amounts of money at such a young age can be crippling; the situation often leads to lifelong financial, physical, and emotional problems. First USA's program for student financial responsibility was geared to educating students about the dangers of credit cards while teaching them to save and budget effectively. After Luke and I heard about First USA's plan, we were absolutely convinced that our wait had proved worthwhile. We were all set to become part of First USA's financial responsibility team.

Luke and I announced that we would accept First USA's sponsorship on The Today Show the day of our high school graduation. That morning, a Town Car escorted us to Rockefeller Center where Al Roker greeted Luke and me and showed us around the NBC studios. When it was our time on air, Ann Curry asked us the big question: who would be sponsoring our college educations? Luke revealed that he was wearing a First USA shirt as T told Ann that we were thrilled to accept sponsorship from this credit card company.

We both explained that First USA would cover our full college tuitions as well as each semester's living expenses. Luke announced that he would be attending the University of Southern California in Los Angeles and I told the audience that I would be attending Pepperdine University in Malibu. Later that day, a television crew filmed our high school graduation before Luke and I embarked on a satellite media tour. Within forty-eight hours, we garnered First USA over fifty million media impressions with television, newspaper, and magazine appearances.

We soon discovered that becoming spokesguys for First USA meant more than just wearing its logos on our clothes; the job also required us to deliver important messages about money to our peers. In the weeks following our announcement on The Today Show, we spent a lot of time preparing for our work with our sponsoring company. We received a thorough education in bank and media training so that we'd become knowledgeable about every aspect of First USA and its student financial responsibility program. The summer before we began college, Luke and I spoke about money matters at universities across the country. It felt incredible to see our idea come to fruition. It felt even better to turn our own pursuits into a project that would hopetillly help others.

I learned an incredible amount from my college sponsorship search, but the most important lesson I took away from the experience is this: No matter who you are or where you come from, you should never, ever shy away from your dreams because of how much money they might cost. If you look deep inside yourself, you'll soon discover many ways your talents and creativity can help you achieve your most extraordinary dreams--without a lot of dollars. With a little inspiration from a sports superstar, and some help from the Internet, my friend Luke and I found a way to pay for our very expensive college educations. Make the most of what you have, and there will be no limit to what you can achieve too.

Elizabeth Licorish is credited with writing this or de. She did so from Chris Barrett 's point of view.


Day 1

YbR d Mo,§3cfc

by Ralph Gustafson

The woman this morning sweeps the pavement Of Kuibysheva Street, Branches of spring tied to an old stick, Brushing along last night's bits Of paper, cigarette ends, dirt, Keeping the city clean for this morning's Traffic. By night it will have to be done All over again. She looks happy What is this happiness? Grandchildren, Soup on the stove, an hour's relief From pain, Lenin sleeping nearby? The street will always be dirty. Mankind is imperfect. Politics and bad manners Leave his detritus On the perfect peace. We Do not understand one another. The street will have to be swept again. New York, Moscow, Montreal, It is the same. Man is careless, He drops the wrappings from his hands, The torn paper, even the newspaper With the news of the world He leaves behind him to be picked up By someone else. The wind is cold. This is September. Soon the snow Will cover the shivering gutter And the plough will supersede the broom. We all feel it. No matter the labour. Do they not? And yet this woman sweeps, For a few kopeks, Lentils for her soup, And is happy What is this Moscow? This humanity?

Ralph Gustafson (1909-1995) wrote over twenty volumes of poet")) and verse. His prodigious career was celebrated when he won the Order of Canada in 1992.


Meeting Grancma by Shirley Jackson-Avery

Found out who I was when I looked into her eyes. Found out who I was and I was quite surprised. How could this woman look so much like me but differ in age

and nationality?

My mama always told me I looked like my father's side. Staring at this woman I knew she hadn't lied. But I never knew my daddy when I was small and none of his

photos ever graced our walls. And no one ever said that I was half white. I always assumed

that daddy was just light. Still, someone should have told me how much so I'd mirror this

grandmother I didn't even know.

Today we'd finally meet after thirteen long years. But it took my mother's death to make her finally face her fears.

Looking at her, I felt I knew, answers to questions that were long past due. Thirteen years ago, when my daddy met my mama, they had me despite all the drama.

Unfortunately, daddy died before I turned one but not before Grandma

Disowned her only son.

She just couldn't believe he could love outside his race. To her everything, including love, had its place.

I stepped toward her and looked at her white face. Would she reject me, because of my race?

Grandma finally looked up and tears escaped her eyes. She fell in love with me quite by surprise. She stretched out her arms and held me tight. She didn't seem to care that I was part Black and part White.

After years of rejection, my grandma finally let me "in." She found out that my color was simply skin.

Shirley Jackson-Avery is an American writer and a school guidance counsellor

Day 1


For Conversation, Press # by Mic iael Alvear

Day 1

A funny thing happened on the way to the communications revolution: We stopped talking to one another.

I was walking in the park with a friend recently. His cellphone rang, interrupting our conversation. There we were, walking and talking on a beautiful sunny day and poof! I became invisible, absent from the conversation.

The park was filled with people talking on their cellphones. They were passing other people without looking at them, saying hello, noticing their babies or stopping to pet their puppies. Evidently, the untethered electronic voice is preferable to human contact.

The telephone used to connect you to those absent. Now it makes people sitting next to you feel absent. Recently I was in a car with three friends. The driver shushed the rest of us because he couldn't hear the person on the other end of his cellphone. There we were, four friends, unable to talk to one another because of a gadget designed to make communication easier.

Why is it that the more connected we get, the more disconnected I feel? Every advance in communications technology is a setback to the intimacy of human interaction. With email and instant messaging over the Internet, we can now communicate without seeing or talking to one another. With voice mail, you can conduct entire conversations without ever reaching anyone. If my mom has a

question, I just leave the answer on her voice mail.

As almost every conceivable contact between human beings gets automated, the alienation index goes up. You can't even call a person to get the phone number of another human anymore. Directory assistance is almost always fully automated.

Pumping gas at the station? Why bother saying good morning to the attendant when you can swipe your credit card at the pump and save yourself the bother of human contact?

Making a deposit at the bank? Why talk to a clerk who might live in the neighborhood when you can insert your card into the banking machine?

Pretty soon you won't have the burden of making eye contact at the grocery store. Some supermarket chains are using a self-scanner so you can check yourself out, avoiding all those annoying clerks who look at you and ask how you are doing.

I am no Luddite. I own a cellphone, a bank card, a voice-mail system and an email account. Giving them up isn't an option they're great for what they're intended to do. It's their unintended consequences that make me cringe.

More and more, I find myself hiding behind email to do a job meant for conversation. Or being relieved that voice mail picked up because I didn't really have time to talk. The industry devoted


1 , 1M JUST ABOUT TO START PRACTICE, VA 0, BUT LISTEN TO THIS BLAB,

BLAB, BLAB...

krt. r— BUICS

f

B y r BB, yotilt.- 175-Nr ki3R‘J,,

ALEXANDER, CAN YOU TALK FOR A MINUTELie

c

ftriA '11#

COOKIE, YOUR BROTHER HAS SOME INFORMATION FOR YOU BLAB St AA I, etm4.„

OKAY, DADDY, I'LL GIVE

HIM A CALL

WHEN YOU GET A, CHANCE, CALL ALEXANDER, HE NEEDS To TALK TO YOU ABOUT, BLAB, BLAB,

BLAB

1 CAN CALL HIM IN A. FEW MINUTES

MOm,THE FUNNIEST TI-IING HAPPENED AT SCHOOL. TODAY, BLAB, &A8, 81_49...

HI HONEY, IT'S ME AGAIN, I FORGOT 70 TELL

YOU BLAB, BLAB, EXAS„

141 HONEY, I'M JUST LEAVING

WORK— BUT LISTEN 70

WHAT I JUST HEARD, BLAE BLAB BLAB..

Day 1

to helping me keep in touch is making me lonelier—or at least facilitating my antisocial instincts.

So I've put myself on technology restriction: No instant messaging with people who live near me, no using the cellphone in the presence of friends, and

no letting the voice mail pick up when I'm home.

What good is all this gee-whiz technology if there's no one in the room to hear you exclaim, "Gee whiz!"?

—Originally published November 26, 1999

Michael Alvear is a journalist who contributes to online columns.


21

22

Day 1


Day 1

The Compassionate Enemy by Renie S. Burrardt

War educates the senses, calls into action the will, pelfects the physical constitution, brings men into such swift and close collision in critical moments that man measures man.

—Ralph Waldo Emerson

The first time I saw the enemy, he was pointing a machine gun at us. It was early spring of 1945, and my grandparents and I had just emerged from a bunker, where we had spent a terror-filled night.

I was nine years old and lived in Hungary. World War II was playing havoc with our lives. My grandparents, who were raising me, and I had been on the road in our horse-drawn wagon for many months, searching for safety. We had left behind the village of our birth in the Bacska region because Tito and his Communist partisans were closing in on the region.

By day we moved swiftly, ready to jump out and take cover in a ditch if warplanes approached. By night we camped with other refugees along the roadside. I usually lay bundled up in my featherbed in the back of the wagon, cradling my cat. War was almost all I had known during my nine years of life.

After Christmas of 1944, when we were almost killed in a city bombing, Grandfather decided that a rural area would be safer, so we moved and settled in a small house that had an old cemetery 'as its neighbor Here Grandfather, with the help of some neighbors, built a bunker in a flat area behind the house. And on that early spring day in 1945, we spent the entire night in the bunker. Warplanes buzzed, tanks thundered, bombs exploded over our heads all night, but finally at dawn everything grew deathly still.

Grandfather decided it would be safe to go back to our house. Cautiously we crept out into the light of early dawn and headed toward the house. The brush crackled under our feet as we walked past the cemetery. The markers looked lonely, separated by tall, dry weeds. I shivered,

holding on to my orange tabby cat tightly. He had spent the night in the bunker with us. Without warning there was a rustle in the bushes just ahead. Two men jumped out and pointed machine guns directly at us.

"Stoi!" one of the men shouted. Since we were from an area where both Serbian and Hungarian was spoken, we knew the word meant "Stop!"

"Russians!" Grandfather whispered. "Stand very still, and keep quiet." But I was already running after my cat. He had leaped out of my arms when the soldier shouted, so I darted between the soldiers and scooped him up.

The younger of the two soldiers, tall and dark-haired, approached me. I cringed, holding the cat against my chest. The soldier reached out and petted him. "I have a little girl about your age back in Russia, and she has a cat just like this one," he said, gently tugging one of my blond braids. 'And she has long braids, too, just like you."

I looked up into a pair of kind brown eyes and my fear subsided. Grandfather and Grandmother sighed with relief Both soldiers came back to the house with us and shared in our meager breakfast. We found out that the Soviet occupation of Hungary was in progress. Many atrocities occurred in our area, as well as throughout our country in the following months, but because the young Russian soldier took a liking to me, we were spared.

He came to visit often, bringing little treats, and always talked longingly of his own little girl. I loved his visits, yet I was terrified of the Russians in general. Then one day, almost a year later, he had some sad news. "I've been


Day 1

transferred to another area, malka, little one, so I won't be able to come and visit anymore. But I have a gift for you," he said, taking something

out of his pocket. It was a necklace with a beautiful turquoise Russian Orthodox cross on it. He placed it around my neck.

"You wear this at all times, malka. God will protect you from harm." I hugged him tight and then watched him drive away, tears welling in my eyes.

World War II was over, but for the people of Hungary a life of bondage was at hand. Many men, like Grandfather, who had been involved in politics, or deemed undesirable, were being rounded up by the secret police, never to be seen again. Not long after the end of the war, the dreaded knock on the door came. The police had come to take my grandfather away. Fortunately Grandfather managed to flee and went into hiding Then it was just Grandma and I, trying to survive as best we could. Fear became our constant companion, and prayer our solace. Sometimes I would finger the cross the soldier had given me and wonder where he was. Was he back home with his own daughter? Did he even remember me?

Time passed in a haze of anxiety and

depression. Then in the fall of 1947, a man came to get us in the middle of the night. He said he would take us to the Austrian border, and we'd be reunited with my grandfather. We traveled all night to a place where the ethnic Germans of Hungary were being loaded into transport trucks and deported from Hungary The man gave us counterfeit papers so we could cross the border to freedom. When we arrived at dawn, a weary-looking man with a thick, scraggly beard and a knit cap pulled low over his forehead was waiting for us.

"Grandpa!" I cried out, rushing into his

arms. It was so wonderful to see him again. Then we walked toward the transport truck loaded with dozens of people and got on, fake papers in hand. I knew if we were found out, it would mean Grandpa would get hauled off to prison and, worse yet, he might even be executed. I glanced toward the Russian soldiers who were coming closer to inspect the papers. Fear gripped my heart. Then I looked up as a guard boarded our truck. I caught my breath.

"Grandpa," I whispered. "Look, it's my soldier, Ivan! He is checking this truck." I wanted to leap up and run to him, but Grandpa shushed me cautiously

"Maybe he won't recognize us," he whispered, pulling the knit hat farther down his forehead. He seemed afraid of Ivan! Then the Russian stood before us. My grandfather handed over our papers without looking up. I leaned closer to Grandfather and put my hand protectively on his shoulder, peering cautiously at Ivan, hoping to see the familiar kind sparkle in his eyes. But he was intent upon the papers, his expression grave. I didn't dare to breathe. Finally, he handed the papers back to Grandpa.

"Everything is in order in this vehicle," he said. Then winking at me, he walked away and got down. The next instant the truck began to move on. I looked over my shoulder and caught his eye.

"Thank you," I mouthed, holding up the cross hanging around my neck. He nodded discretely, then quickly turned and walked away And as we crossed the border to freedom, we all sighed with relief. Although we had suffered much sadness during the war, one blessing will always stay with me: the memory of a kind soldier who turned my fear into faith, and showed me that compassion can be found anywhere, even in the eyes of an enemy

Renie S. Burghardt is a freelance American writer and editor Her inspirational articles have been published in a variety of books and magazines.


Day 1 or 2

Connecting Ideas

Choose two visuals t:it quotations) from pages 5 to 7 and explain how these visuals work together to express one idea.

5 marks j

PDS

+—You may go forward or back to any section of this booklet during the test process.--)


Day 1

Previewing the Writing Task

Writing Task: Develop an original written text using an idea about Connections that you consider to be interesting and meaningful.

Consider: Focus Questions:

The central idea theme, thesis, controlling idea, focus

What are you writing about?

The form—article, column, essay, eulogy, memoir, monologue, proposal, script, short story, speech, other

Which form will be most effective?

The purpose of your text to entertain, to inform, to persuade, etc.

Why are you writing this?

The public audience specific characteristics such as age, gender, interests

Who is being targeted?

The context situation in which your audience will experience your text

Where will the text be presented or read?

26


Day 2

Planning and Developing Your Text Plan your writing variables for your written text about Connections. You will need to explain how your chosen writing variables work together to make your text effective on page 30.

Planning Your Writing Variables Brainstorming for Ideas


27

Day 2

Developing Your Text Drafting Use only the draft paper provided at the back of this booklet to develop your writing task on Days 2 and 3.

Be certain your text is of sufficient length and is developed well enough to communicate your ideas clearly and effectively to your audience.

At the end of each session, place all of your Draft Paper inside the back cover.

Once you have completed your draft, answer the Reflecting question on page 29.

Revising and Editing Your writing task is worth 40 marks. Before writing the final copy of your text, consider your purpose, audience, and context as you revise and edit for the following:

O Is your text of sufficient length to communicate and support your central idea clearly and effectively? (10 marks)

O Are the organizational structures, techniques, and transitions you used effective? (10 marks)

O Are your language choices and use of language effective? (10 marks)

O Is your use of the conventions of written language (i.e., grammar and usage, sentence structure, spelling, capitalization, and punctuation) appropriate? (10 marks)

Caution regarding cheating: Cheating on any aspect of the test will result in a test score of zero. This includes removing any test materials from the room, bringing outside notes to the test, or plagiarizing. Plagiarism is defined as the presentation of someone's ideas or writings as one's own.

may go forward or back to any section of this booklet during the test process. —)


Day 3

Reflecting

Explain which aspect of the test process best helped you to extend your understanding of the topic. Consider group discussion, reading, visuals, responding to text, connecting ideas, identifying writing variables, or the writing task.

5 marks

109


Day 3

Explaining Your Writing Variables

Identify the five writing variables you have chosen for your writing task on Connections.

Central Idea:

Form:

Purpose:

Public Audience:

Context:

Explain how your chosen writing variables work together to make your text effective. na71"Ts

I 10


Day 4: Final Copy

Final Copy 40 marks


III 112 113 114

Title:

Day 4: Final Copy


Day 4: Final Copy


Day 4: Final Copy


Day 4: Final Copy


Day 4: Final Copy


Day 4: Final Copy


Day 4: Final Copy


Bibliography

Alvear, Michael. "For Conversation, Press # 1." with Blondie Comic Strip by Dean Young and Denis Lebrun. Elements of English 12. Sue Harper, Douglas Hilker & Peter J. Smith. Toronto, ON: Harcourt Canada 2002. 348-349.

Burghardt, Renie S. "The Compassionate Enemy" Chicken Soup for the Soul: Celebrating People Who Make a Difference. Eds. Jack Canfield, Mark Victor Hansen, Peter Vegso & Theresa Peluso. Deerbeach Fl: Health Communications, Inc., 2007. 185-189.

Callaghan, Morley. "Watching & Waiting." Canadian Literature. Eds. Donna Bennett & Russell Brown. Don Mills, ON: Oxford University Press, 2002. 373-377.

Dwyer-Joyce, Garret. "Service dogs provide comfort for Afghan veterans with PTSD that pharmaceuticals can't provide." thestar corn. 6 Dec. 2013. <http://www.thestar.cominews/canada/2012/11/16/ service_dogs_provide_comfort for afghan veterans_with_ptsd that_pharmaceuticals cant provide.html.>

Gustafson, Ralph. "The Old Moscow Woman." The 20th Century in Poetry. Eds. Michael Hulse & Simon Rae. New York, NY: Pegasus Books LLC, 2011. 581-582.

Hopper, Edward. "Nighthawks." Hopper. Ivo Kranzfelder. Italy: Taschen GmbH, 2002. 148-149.

Jackson-Avery, Shirley "Meeting Grandma." Open My Eyes, Open My Soul: Celebrating Our Common Humanity. Yolanda King and Elodia Tate. USA: McGraw Hill, 2004. 143-144.

Licorish, Elizabeth. "Chris Barrett: Filmmaker, Entrepreneur, and Author." Chicken Soup for the Soul: Extraordinary Teens. Eds. Jack Canfield, Mark Victor Hansen & Kent Healy. Cos Cob, CT: Chicken Soup for the Soul Publishing, LLC, 2009. 11-17.

Visuals

Page 5 (Row 1, Right). Photograph. Jenny Gay "Kam and Jaden share a bath after a long day at the zoo." Humanity: A Celebration of Friendship, Family, Love & Laughter. Ed. Geoff Blackwell. San Francisco, CA: Chronicle Books, 2009, 166.

Page 5 (Row 2, Left). Photograph. Birdlmages. "Whistler Mountain Inukshuk" <istockphoto.com>. 21 Nov. 2013. Reprinted with permission of iStock International Inc.

Page 5 (Row 3, Left). Photograph. Raniel Jose Madrazo Castaneda. "Two Friends from the Ifugao province in the Phillippines view a mobile phone." Humanity: A Celebration of Friendship, Family, Love & Laughter. Ed. Geoff Blackwell. San Francisco, CA: Chronicle Books, 2009, 133.

Page 5 (Row 3, Right). Photograph. Nautilus_shell_studios. "Caring for a tree." <istockphoto.com>. 6 June 2013. Reprinted with permission of iStock international Inc.

Page 5 (Row 4, Left). Photograph. L Hill. "Cemetery Sadness." <dreamstime.com>. 2 Oct. 2013. Reprinted with permission of dreamstime.com.


Page 5 (Row 4, Centre). Photograph. Mary Katherine Wynn. "Girls Basketball Team Huddle." <dreamstime.com>. 2 Oct. 2013. Reprinted with permission of dreamstime.com.

Page 6 (Row 1, Left). Painting. Jeffray R. Stepaniuk. "Monarch of the Marshland." Reprinted with permission of the artist.

Page 6 (Row 2, Left). Photograph. "Friends Pauline and May have just come out of the pool after their water-aerobics class." Humanity: A Celebration of Friendship, Family Love & Laughter. Ed. Geoff Blackwell. San Francisco, CA: Chronicle Books, 2009, 137.

Page 6 (Row 2, Right). Photograph. Jane. "Pyramid." <istockphoto.com>. 21 November 2013. Reprinted with permission of iStock International Inc.

Page 6 (Row 3, Right). Photograph. Photomorphic."Social Network." <istockphoto.com>. 6 June 2013. Reprinted with permission of iStock International Inc.

Page 6 (Row 4, Left). Photograph. Blendifmages. "African American neighbours greeting each other over fence." <dreamstime.com>. 3 Oct. 2013. Reprinted with permission of dreamstime.com.

Page 6 (Row 4, Right). Photograph. Americanspirit. "Native American Family." <dreamstime.com>. 3 Oct. 2013. Reprinted with permission of dreamstime.com.

Page 7 (Row 1, Left). Photograph. TatyanaGl. "Parents swear, and children suffer." <istockphoto.com>. 3 Oct. 2013. Reprinted with permission of iStock international Inc.

Page 7 (Row 1, Right). Photograph. Jonathan Jones. "The photographer's son, Oliver, and his grandma express their affection for each other." Humanity: A Celebration of Friendship, Family Love & Laughter. Ed. Geoff Blackwell. San Francisco, CA: Chronicle Books, 2009, 101.

Page 7 (Row 2, Left). Photograph. Bo1982. "Pretty young woman with her dog." <istockphoto.com>. 6 June 2013. Reprinted with permission of iStock International Inc.

Page 7 (Row 2, Right). Photograph. TommL. "International Flags." <istockphoto.com>. 10 June 2013. Reprinted with permission of iStock International Inc.

Page 7 (Row 3, Right). Photograph. Concetta Zinagle. "Destruction on the Streets of Haiti." <dreamstime.com>. 3 Oct. 2013. Reprinted with permission of dreamstime.com.

Page 7 (Row 4, Left). Photograph. danleap. "Family Tree - Ancestry." <istockphoto.com>. 10 June 2013. Reprinted with permission of iStock International Inc.

Quotations

Page 5 All of the quotes listed on this page are the intellectual property of the acknowledged speaker/ author. To the best of our knowledge, all of the quotes included fall under the use of public domain guidelines of copyright law.

Every effort has been made to acknowledge original sources to comply with copyright law. If cases are identified where this has not been done, please notify Manitoba Education and Advanced Learning. Errors or omissions will be corrected in a future edition. Sincere thanks to authors and publishers who allowed their original material to be adapted or reproduced.


Extra Page

Indicate the question # for each response.


Extra Page

Indicate the question # for each response.


Documents

Process Booklet - BLSD · For Conversation, Press #1 by Michael Alvear ... the questions in the Process Booklet please instruct the marker that your answer is continued on pages 41