International Liberty School English Gr12.
Weekly Packet 1
Name: ____________________________
Class: ____________________________
1st Week Study Guide
❖ Reading: Literacy Text:
Unit 3: Against the Wind
A Warriors Daughter (Short Story)
❖ Grammar:
Chapter 13: Punctuation
• End marks
❖ Writing:
• compare and contrast essay
H.W
Literature
• Answer the following questions:
1. What does the following passage mainly reveal about the warrior (paragraph 3)?
“He was also one of the most generous gift givers to the toothless old people. For this
he was entitled to the red-painted smoke lapels on his cone-shaped dwelling. He was
proud of his honors. He never wearied of rehearsing nightly his own brave deeds.
Though by wigwam fires he prated much of his high rank and widespread fame, his
great joy was a wee black-eyed daughter of eight sturdy winters.”
A. He was proud of his parenting skills and enjoyed being a father.
B. He missed much of his daughter’s growing up while away in battle.
C. The warrior did not deserve the recognition he received.
D. The warrior’s many accomplishments, honors, and praises paled in comparison to
the love of his daughter.
2. How would you describe the warrior’s connection to Tusee? How do you know?
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3. What does Tusee’s father demand in exchange for her hand in marriage?
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Grammar
• Add end punctuation as needed.
1. The America’s Cup is the world’s most important yachting race
2. The race is held every three years in waters near the country that holds the cup
3. The America’s Cup has been held 29 times, and one country has won the competition 28
of them
4. The U.S. domination of this race is without parallel in the history of sports
5. Only once, in 1983, has a non-American boat ever won the America’s Cup
6. Can you guess from which country this winner hailed
7. The answer is Australia
8. Have you ever wondered what it would be like to sail on one of the sleek yachts that
compete in races like the America’s Cup
9. Many sailors wonder whether any thrill can match the feeling of sailing a large, beautiful
yacht powered only by a stiff breeze
10. However, sailing a big boat like those that compete for the America’s Cup is plenty of
hard work
• Place a check (✔) beside each sentence that is punctuated correctly.
1. Kevin’s uncle called to ask whether he would like to go sailing with him?
2. Kevin didn’t hesitate a second before saying yes!
3. To Kevin, sailing was the most relaxing—and the most interesting—way to spend time
that he knew.
4. To move with the wind across the water made Kevin feel like a part of nature!
5. The trick was to prepare the sailboat to take advantage of the prevailing wind
conditions?
6. On the drive to the lake, Kevin smiled when he noticed the leaves on the trees they
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passed dancing in the stiff breeze.
7. The sun was warm—but not too warm—on his arm!
8. Looks like a perfect day for sailing, he thought to himself.
9. “Don’t you love to see all the different-colored sails on the lake?”
10. Kevin had to agree with Uncle Rob?
Independent Reading
Wuthering Heights
CHAPTER III
While leading the way upstairs, she recommended that I should hide the candle, and not
make a noise; for her master had an odd notion about the chamber she would put me in, and
never let anybody lodge there willingly. I asked the reason. She did not know, she answered:
she had only lived there a year or two; and they had so many queer goings on, she could not
begin to be curious.
Too stupefied to be curious myself, I fastened my door and glanced round for the bed. The
whole furniture consisted of a chair, a clothes-press, and a large oak case, with squares cut
out near the top resembling coach windows. Having approached this structure, I looked
inside, and perceived it to be a singular sort of old-fashioned couch, very conveniently
designed to obviate the necessity for every member of the family having a room to himself.
In fact, it formed a little closet, and the ledge of a window, which it enclosed, served as a
table. I slid back the panelled sides, got in with my light, pulled them together again, and felt
secure against the vigilance of Heathcliff, and everyone else.
The ledge, where I placed my candle, had a few mildewed books piled up in one corner; and
it was covered with writing scratched on the paint. This writing, however, was nothing but a
name repeated in all kinds of characters, large and small—Catherine Earnshaw, here and
there varied to Catherine Heathcliff, and then again to Catherine Linton.
In vapid listlessness I leant my head against the window, and continued spelling over
Catherine Earnshaw—Heathcliff—Linton, till my eyes closed; but they had not rested five
minutes when a glare of white letters started from the dark, as vivid as spectres—the air
swarmed with Catherines; and rousing myself to dispel the obtrusive name, I discovered my
candle-wick reclining on one of the antique volumes, and perfuming the place with an odour
of roasted calf-skin. I snuffed it off, and, very ill at ease under the influence of cold and
lingering nausea, sat up and spread open the injured tome on my knee. It was a Testament, in
lean type, and smelling dreadfully musty: a fly-leaf bore the inscription—‘Catherine
Earnshaw, her book,’ and a date some quarter of a century back. I shut it, and took up
another and another, till I had examined all. Catherine’s library was select, and its state of
dilapidation proved it to have been well used, though not altogether for a legitimate purpose:
scarcely one Chapter had escaped, a pen-and-ink commentary—at least the appearance of
one—covering every morsel of blank that the printer had left. Some were detached
sentences; other parts took the form of a regular diary, scrawled in an unformed, childish
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hand. At the top of an extra page (quite a treasure, probably, when first lighted on) I was
greatly amused to behold an excellent caricature of my friend Joseph,—rudely, yet
powerfully sketched. An immediate interest kindled within me for the unknown Catherine,
and I began forthwith to decipher her faded hieroglyphics.
‘An awful Sunday,’ commenced the paragraph beneath. ‘I wish my father were back again.
Hindley is a detestable substitute—his conduct to Heathcliff is atrocious—H. and I are going
to rebel—we took our initiatory step this evening.
‘All day had been flooding with rain; we could not go to church, so Joseph must needs get up
a congregation in the garret; and, while Hindley and his wife basked downstairs before a
comfortable fire— doing anything but reading their Bibles, I’ll answer for it—Heathcliff,
myself, and the unhappy ploughboy were commanded to take our prayer-books, and mount:
we were ranged in a row, on a sack of corn, groaning and shivering, and hoping that Joseph
would shiver too, so that he might give us a short homily for his own sake. A vain idea! The
service lasted precisely three hours; and yet my brother had the face to exclaim, when he saw
us descending, “What, done already?” On Sunday evenings we used to be permitted to play,
if we did not make much noise; now a mere titter is sufficient to send us into corners.
‘“You forget you have a master here,” says the tyrant. “I’ll demolish the first who puts me
out of temper! I insist on perfect sobriety and silence. Oh, boy! was that you? Frances
darling, pull his hair as you go by: I heard him snap his fingers.” Frances pulled his hair
heartily, and then went and seated herself on her husband’s knee, and there they were, like
two babies, talking nonsense by the hour—foolish palaver that we should be ashamed of. We
made ourselves as snug as our means allowed in the arch of the dresser. I had just fastened
our pinafores together, and hung them up for a curtain, when in comes Joseph, on an errand
from the stables. He tears down my handiwork, boxes my ears, and croaks:
‘“T’ maister nobbut just buried, and Sabbath not o’ered, und t’ sound o’ t’ gospel still i’ yer
lugs, and ye darr be laiking! Shame on ye! sit ye down, ill childer! there’s good books
eneugh if ye’ll read ’em: sit ye down, and think o’ yer sowls!”
‘Saying this, he compelled us so to square our positions that we might receive from the far-
off fire a dull ray to show us the text of the lumber he thrust upon us. I could not bear the
employment. I took my dingy volume by the scroop, and hurled it into the dog-kennel,
vowing I hated a good book. Heathcliff kicked his to the same place. Then there was a
hubbub!
‘“Maister Hindley!” shouted our chaplain. “Maister, coom hither! Miss Cathy’s riven th’
back off ‘Th’ Helmet o’ Salvation,’ un’ Heathcliff’s pawsed his fit into t’ first part o’ ‘T’
Brooad Way to Destruction!’ It’s fair flaysome that ye let ’em go on this gait. Ech! th’ owd
man wad ha’ laced ’em properly—but he’s goan!”
‘Hindley hurried up from his paradise on the hearth, and seizing one of us by the collar, and
the other by the arm, hurled both into the back-kitchen; where, Joseph asseverated, “owd
Nick” would fetch us as sure as we were living: and, so comforted, we each sought a
separate nook to await his advent. I reached this book, and a pot of ink from a shelf, and
pushed the house-door ajar to give me light, and I have got the time on with writing for
twenty minutes; but my companion is impatient, and proposes that we should appropriate the
dairywoman’s cloak, and have a scamper on the moors, under its shelter. A pleasant
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suggestion—and then, if the surly old man come in, he may believe his prophecy verified—
we cannot be damper, or colder, in the rain than we are here.’
I suppose Catherine fulfilled her project, for the next sentence took up another subject: she
waxed lachrymose.
‘How little did I dream that Hindley would ever make me cry so!’ she wrote. ‘My head
aches, till I cannot keep it on the pillow; and still I can’t give over. Poor Heathcliff! Hindley
calls him a vagabond, and won’t let him sit with us, nor eat with us anymore; and, he says,
he and I must not play together, and threatens to turn him out of the house if we break his
orders. He has been blaming our father (how dared he?) for treating H. too liberally; and
swears he will reduce him to his right place—’
Answer the following questions:
1. In Catherine's diary, what does Hindley call Heathcliff, how does he treat him, and
what name does Catherine give to Hindley?
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2. What does Lockwood find scratched into the window ledge?
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Writing:
Two of these well-known scientists are Darwin
and Einstein.
• Write a four-paragraph essay comparing between the two scientists.
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