Setting

"We're lost aren't we? Admit it!" The most annoying person in the world, my sister Zhi yi said. "No we're not" I replied, checking the map in my hand."We are at Tampinse Street 11. We are almost home." "Yeah, right. That sign would say different." I looked where she was pointing "Brooke Road" the sign said. My spirits plummeted. She was right, again. " I heard that there are a lot of gang fights in this area. " She said. Inwardly, I groaned. As if this day, or night could get any worse. Just as that thought formed in my mind, I saw 20 people dressed like gangsters across the street. If looks could kill, I would have dropped dead by now. One of them looked at me, smiled, and took out a chopper out of some hidden pocket........

Becoming Ver.2

5 p.m., 21^st July 1964. That day would always be burned in my mind. It was a day of great sadness and also one of great transformation. I was 10 at that time, and I not only witnessed one of the bloodiest and worst riots in Singapore history, I was also dragged into it.

“HELP!!” I screamed at the top of my lungs as I ran past buildings on the deserted street. Close behind me were a gang of Malay men who have taken upon themselves to liberate the life of every Chinese they saw. They took one look at me, a harmless 10 year old boy, and gave chase immediately, with parangs in their hands. I took off like my life depended on it, which it did. As I dashed from street to street, running faster than I had ever done in my life, no doubt due to the insanely large amounts of adrenaline pumping through my body, I saw a house. It looked like somebody lived in there. Salvation! I sprinted towards the house, my attackers close behind me. As I reached the house, I started banging on the door. “Open the door!! Help!!” I pleaded to the Malay man on the other side of the door who I could not see. ”Help!! They are coming to kill me!!” 5 seconds passed. “Please…..Open the door” tears were pouring down my cheeks. I was at the doorstep but that man just would not open the door to help me! The Malays would be here any second…. I continued to plead. Around me, groups of Chinese and Malays were brutally slugging it out on the street. Another excruciatingly anxious 5 seconds. Just as the Malay gangsters turned the corner, the door flung open and a pair of strong arms reached out and grabbed me. When I saw the big, burly Malay man grab me, my first thought was that he was going to finish what the gangsters started, but then he said a gentle voice said “Don’t worry, you’re safe with me. It’s going to be fine” Through the window I saw the gangsters looking for something in the chaos outside, no doubt me. They saw the house where I was hiding, and their eyes narrowed, as though they had x-ray vision, and they saw me in that house, shivering in fear. After another excruciating 10 seconds, by chance they somehow saw the Malay man. They were surprised and immediately gave him an apologetic look and joined their ‘brothers’ in their war against the Chinese.

“Thank you sir, thank you for saving me” words could not express my gratitude towards the Malay family who risked all their lives to help me from the horrors of racism. I could only thank them profusely “These are dangerous times. Why don’t you lie low for a while until all this dies down?” The kind Malay man asked me. I thought about my parents, caught in the riot at its worst, and figured that they would want me safe from this, at least. Hence, I accepted.

The following 12 days were the most fear-filled ones of my life. The government had imposed a curfew after the first 3 days of rioting. As a result, everyone stocked up on food. This led to a food shortage. The owners of the provision shop took advantage of this, and increased their prices. Food prices shot up faster than a rocket. Many times the Malay family had to borrow food from the neighbors so that we would not starve. I lived in constant fear that the Malay rioters would discover me and kill me or worse.

The riot lasted about 12 days. 12 days of fear and hiding. During that time I vowed to help the community improve the peoples’ lives to the best of my ability. A few days after the riot, I chanced upon my parents looking for me everywhere. They had put up posters with my face just about everywhere. The joy then was immense, it equaled my gratitude towards the Malay family, whom I found out were the Azhar family. After thanking them again, I left them and we soon lost contact, but not before Mr. Azhar gave me a keychain with a bird hand carved in the Malay style. “For good luck” Mr. Azhar explained.

15 years later, I was a young man of 25. I had already set up my own business and was a millionaire, one of the youngest in Singapore. True to my vow so many years back, I donated much of my wealth on charity, improving the lives of many whom I don’t know but who know me. I received many community service awards for my contributions to society.

One day I was in Kampong Glam. I saw this frail Malay old man. This man looked familiar. I knew him, yet I didn’t. His face was a mixture of familiar and unfamiliar. I racked my brains, trying to place find a match in my memory, but to no avail. I know that I knew him, but I just could not remember him. As I was lost in thought thinking about who that old man was, I accidentally bumped into him. “Sorry” I apologized. Still lost in thought, I started to walked off. “Hey young man, “the old man called to me “you dropped your-hey is that the keychain I made?” I turned around. The old man was holding the keychain that I received from Mr. Azhar so many years ago! “Really?” I asked “then that means….” I trailed off. As I looked at the old man closely, I began to see a resemblance. I saw past the wrinkles, the white hair, and I saw Mr. Azhar, the man who saved me from a terrible fate and helped me in my time of need. I immediately greeted him, and soon we started chatting. I realized that he was in a bit of trouble financially. Apparently he got cheated by some conman who said that he would help him ‘invest’ his money. Mr. Azhar gave him a good bit of his money, and the man was never seen again. I remembered how Mr. Azhar helped me in my time of need, so I decided to return the favor. I gave him a cheque to tide him over the tough times and we exchanged contact numbers and addresses.

After finding the man who saved my life, I was determined that I would not lose contact with him again. He and I became good friends and this time, our relationship lasted.

Becoming Draft 1

5 p.m., 21^st July 1964. That day would always be burned in my mind. It was a day of great sadness and also one of great transformation. I was 10 at that time, and I not only witnessed one of the bloodiest and worst riots in Singapore history, I was also dragged into it.

“HELP!!” I screamed at the top of my lungs as I ran buildings on the deserted street. Close behind me were a gang of Malay men who have taken upon themselves to liberate from life every Chinese they saw. They took one look at me, a harmless 10 year old boy, and gave chase immediately, with parangs in their hands. I took of like my life depended on it, which it did. As I dashed from street to street, running faster than I had ever done in my life, no doubt due to the insanely large amounts of adrenaline pumping through my body, I saw a house. Through the window I saw a Malay man looking right at me. Salvation! I sprinted towards the house, my attackers about 20 seconds behind me. As I reached the house, I started banging on the door. “Open the door!! Help!!” I pleaded to the Malay man on the other side of the door who I could not see. ”Help!! They are coming to kill me!!” 5 seconds gone. “Please…..Open the door” tears were pouring down my cheeks. I was at the doorstep but that man just would not open the door to help me! 10 seconds. I continued to plead. Around me, groups of Chinese and Malays were brutally slugging it out on the street. 15 seconds. Just as the Malay gangsters rounded the corner, the door flung open and a pair of strong arms reached out and grabbed me. At first I thought that man was going to finish the job for the gangsters, but then a gentle voice said “Don’t worry, you’re safe with me. It’s going to be fine” Through the window I saw the gangsters looking for something in the chaos outside, no doubt me. In the end they gave up their search and joined their ‘brothers’ in their war against the Chinese.

“Thank you sir, thank you for saving me” words could not express my gratitude towards the Malay family who risked all their lives to help me from the horrors of racism. I could only thank them profusely “These are dangerous times. Why don’t you lie low here for a while until all this dies down?” The kind Malay man asked me. I thought about my parents, caught in the riot at its worst, and figured that they would want me safe from this, at least. Hence, I accepted.

The following 12 days were the most fear-filled ones of my life. The government had imposed a curfew after the first 3 days of rioting. As a result, everyone stocked up on food. This led to a food shortage. The owners of the provision shop took advantage of this, and increased their prices. Food prices shot up faster than a rocket. Many times the Malay family had to borrow food from the neighbors so that we would not starve. I lived in constant fear that the Malay rioters would discover me and kill me or worse.

The riot lasted about 12 days. 12 days of fear and hiding. During that time I vowed to help the community improve the peoples’ lives to the best of my ability. A few days after the riot, I chanced upon my parents looking for me everywhere. They had pasted posters with my face just about everywhere. The joy then was immense, it equal my gratitude towards the Malay family, whom I found out were the Azhar family. After thanking them again, I left them and we soon lost contact, but not before Mr. Azhar gave my a keychain with a bird hand carved in the Malay style. “For good luck” Mr. Azhar explained.

15 years later, I was a young man of 25. I had already set up my own business and was a millionaire, one of the youngest in Singapore. True to my vow so many years back, I donated much of my wealth on charity, improving the lives of many whom I don’t know but who know me. I received many community service awards for my contributions to society.

One day I was in Kampong Glam. I saw this frail Malay old man. This man looked familiar. I knew him, yet I didn’t. His face was a mixture of familiar and unfamiliar. I racked my brains, trying to place find a match in my memory, but to no avail. I know that I knew him, but I just could not remember him. As I was lost in thought thinking about who that old man was, I accidentally bumped into him. “Sorry” I apologized. Still lost in thought, I started to walked off. “Hey young man, “the old man called to me “you dropped your-hey is that the keychain I made?” I turned around. The old man was holding the keychain that I received from Mr. Azhar so many years ago! “Really?” I asked “then that means….” I trailed off. As I looked at the old man closely, I began to see a resemblance. I saw past the wrinkles, the white hair, and I saw Mr. Azhar, the man who saved me from a terrible fate and helped me in my time of need. I immediately greeted him, and soon we started chatting. I realized that he was in a bit of trouble financially. Apparently he got cheated by some conman who said that he would help him ‘invest’ his money. Mr. Azhar gave him a good bit of his money, and the man was never seen again. I remembered how Mr. Azhar helped me in my time of need, so I decided to return the favor. I gave him a cheque to get him over the tough times.

After finding the man whom saved my life, I was determined that I would not lose contact with him again. He and I became good friends and this time, our relationship lasted.

The Civil War

1. Identify the southern states

Ans: They are Texas, Arkansas, Louisiana, Mississippi, Alabama, Georgia, Florida, South Carolina, North Carolina, Virginia, and Tennessee.

2. Who was the US president who proclaimed war against the South?

Ans: The president who proclaimed war against the south was Abraham Lincoln.

3. Why was the Civil War fought?

Ans: The civil war was fought because the southern states seceded from the union as they did not want to abolish slavery and the government saw that as a rebellion. The civil war started when the southern states attacked a U.S. military installation at Fort Sumter in South Carolina on April 12, 1861.

4. When was this war fought?

Ans: The war was fought from april 12, 1861 to april 9, 1865

5. What was the outcome of this war?

Ans: The Union won the war and and all slaves were freed from slavery in the southern states.

Setting

1. Where has each of the above stories been set?

Ans: The Real Durwan by Jhumpa Lahiri has been set in India. The Adventure Of the Speckled Band by Sir Aurthur Conan Doyle is set in England. Pride And Prejudice by Jane Austen is set in a town in England.

2. What time period has each of these stories been set in?

Ans: The Real Durwan -the 1950s
The adventure of the speckled band - 18th or 19th century
Pride and prejudice- 18th or 19th century

3. what clues do you get from the setting about what kind of story it is going to turn out to be?

Ans: The Real Durwan - a sad and tragic story about poverty.
The adventure of the speckled band - An interesting story full of mystery and twists
Pride and Prejudice - A story about a rich family and their exploits.

Telephone Conversation by Wole Soyinka

1. This poem is full of colours not just that of skin, what do you think these colours signify?

Ans: The black and white in the poem refer to the skin colour of the poet. The colour red in the poem refer to the anger that the poet feels when he realizes that the landlady is not going to rent him the place because he is African. The gold colour in the poem refer to the fact that the landlady is probably rich.



2. What does the dialogue in this poem reveal about these two characters?

Ans: The dialogue reveals that both the landlady and the narrator are educated and respectable. However, the dialogue reveals that the landlady is also racist, not renting the land to the narrator just because he is black. The narrator is also angry that the landlady is discriminating against him.

3. The poet dramatizes a battle, who wins finally and why?

Ans: The poet finally wins the battle. Although the landlady already decides not to rent the place to the poet because he is African, and the poet feels a bit sorry that he is black. the poet eventually wins. He ends by asking "Madam, wouldn't you rather
See for yourself?" It seems that the poet is asking the landlady to see his skin colour herself before deciding whether or not to rent the place to him, but he actually implied whether the landlady wants to see his bottom herself.

LA home learning comic

1. Why did you choose the different pictures and backgrounds?

Ans: I chose the pictures because most manual workers are dark skinned and i wanted them them to show that one should take pride in ones work and do ones best in everything. I also wanted to show that everyone has a conscience, and that we have a choice to either do good or do bad.

2. How do they contribute to the elements (plot, setting, characterization) of your narrative?

Ans: The pictures show that the Indians' job is to clean pipes, which is a dirty and undesirable job (setting). The Indian worker cuts corners, so he would do less work. This shows that the Indian worker is very lazy and does not take pride on his work. (characterization).

3. how did you make use of the different elements to contribute to the theme that you have chosen?

Ans: The theme that I have chosen is to take pride on ones work and to do ones best in everything. In the comic, the pipe cleaner has two choices: listen to his colleague and take pride in his work or to cut corners and not do his best in his job. The Indian worker decided that his comfort is more important than his integrity and cut corners. This decision caused a flood and caused him to get fired. This element advises one to take pride in one's work.