GRADING DICTATIONS 2

10th grade

My earliest memories of school life / are connected with a large old house /
that was built in the sixteenth century.// It was in a lovely old village.// There were
many old / and twisted trees there, / and all the other houses / were very ancient
too.// It was a gorgeous, / dreamy place.// The streets were shaded by trees, / and
always cool in summer. // I shall always remember / the beauty and the scent / that
came from different flowers and bushes,/ as well as / the deep note of the church bell
/ as it rang every hour / in that sleepy village.//
The house, / as I have said, / was old / and the gardens were enormous.//
Around them ran a very high / and solid brick wall.// There was broken glass / all
along the top.// This prison-like wall / marked the furthest edge / of our normal day.//
We only went beyond it / three times a week.// Once, every Saturday afternoon,/ we
were allowed to take brief walks, / in a group, / and with two teachers, / through
some of the neighbouring fields.// Twice on Sunday, / we went to the morning and
evening services / in the village church.// The
headmaster of our school / was an official there.// He used to give a sermon every
Sunday.// I was always amazed / by how different he seemed.// He looked so
peaceful and good.// His church robes flowed around him.// He looked holy.// Could
this be the same man / I had only recently seen at school?// There his face was stern
/ and bad-tempered.// His clothes were stiff and unfriendly.// He gave his orders to us
/ with a wicked-looking stick in one hand.// He was so different in church / that he
must be another man!//
There was a huge gate in the wall / that seemed to frown down at us.// It was
covered with large iron nails.// On top of it / there was a row of sharp iron bars /
pointing upwards.// It made us quite afraid, / just looking at it!// It was opened on the
three occasions / we were allowed out of the school.

11th grade
 The train stopped / at the station. // Three young men / moving toward the
train / caught his attention. // The middle one, / a young man / dressed in dark
jeans / and a thick black sweater / didn't seem conscious. // His body was held
tightly / by the others. // They practically dragged him / along the platform. //
When they reached / the open door to the coach, / he made a violent attempt / to
break away, / but the others pushed him / onto the train. //
For the moment, / the figure turned directly / into the light. // His long,
light hair / caught Mike's full attention. // Although thinner, / the young man
looked / like his friend from Panama. // Mike rushed forward, / but the coach
door / slammed in his face / and the three men / disappeared behind the glass. //
He ran to the next open door / and jumped aboard / to rush back / into the
connecting coach. // A long empty corridor / stretched in front of him. // The
compartment doors / were closed. // He quickly made his way / anxiously trying
/ to open the doors / one by one / but many were locked. // There was no sign /
of the three men. //
He thought of his rescuer, / his friend. // Could he really be here? // He
tried to force the door. // He took his pocket knife / and tried to pick the lock. //
No chance. // The train was moving, / gaining speed rapidly. // They had to be
aboard. // Mike went to search / for the conductor. // He found the nervous, /
dark-uniformed little man / and tried to explain / why he wanted / to search the
train. // But the conductor, / pink and soft / from a long life / of little exercise, /
was terrified by the idea / that something out of the ordinary / was taking place /
in his beloved Express. //

"The Three Crosses of Charlemage" by Bill Hovan

12 th grade

Part One- Dictation

Retracing his steps, / Joe went round / to the front of the cottage again /
and listened,/ but all he heard / was the breathless hush of the snow / as it floated
against his face, / spiraled away, / and fell with gentle softness / to the ground. //
When he looked across the clearing / he could barely make out / the dark bed of a
brook / running through the trees. // Behind the cottage / the valley side was steep
/ and thickly wooded, / carpeted with rock / supporting fragile heaps of snow. //
He went to the Volvo / and examined the footprints again. // They were
getting faint now, / there was no doubt / they pointed towards the cottage. //
Beginning to despair, / he looked up the valley / and saw what might have been a
path / leading away through the trees. // He made directly for it, / plunging down
into a dip / and up the other side, / his soles slipping on the steep slope. // It was a
path alright; / looking back, / he realized it snaked around / from the outhouses, /
hugging the contour of the hill, / then he saw that / there were footprints on it, /
like the ones next to the Volvo. // A few yards further on, / he came across more
prints / - dog-paws, / medium-sized - / and almost laughed.
The wind eased suddenly / as did the snow, / and looking up he saw her /
standing in front of him. // Even then he doubted his eyes, / and it wasn't until a
black labrador / rushed down the path / and bounded up to him / that he finally
stepped forward / and called her name. // She didn't move at first. // Then she
put a hand to her mouth / and let out a long gasp of disbelief. // As he stopped in
front of her, / she stared at him / as if he were a ghost, / before reaching out / and
putting her fingers / to his hand / as if to confirm that / he was flesh and blood. //
She gave a choked cry of excitement. //
The next moment / she had looped her arms gravely / around his neck /
and pressed her head to his cheek. // He would have hugged her back / but his
arms got tangled up / in her rucksack. // Her hat was pulled halfway down her
forehead. // In the dim light, / her skin was bleached of all colour, / a pale mask / in
which her eyes / seemed to float softly. // The snow fell between them / like an
impenetrable curtain / and she seemed both close / and a long way away. //

(Adapted from A Death Divided by Clare Francis)