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    Orca Share Media1664341487201 6980754157136253218

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    summery writing

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    Orca Share Media1664341487201 6980754157136253218

    Uploaded by

    David Adhikari
    34 views11 pages
    summery writing

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    summery writing

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    © All Rights Reserved
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    Download as pdf
    34 views11 pages

    Orca Share Media1664341487201 6980754157136253218

    Uploaded by

    David Adhikari
    summery writing

    Copyright:

    © All Rights Reserved
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    of 11
    From, ittle ittle Jean Little I followed Mother through the girls door of St. John’s School. It was nine O'clock and the hall was empty. I stared all the coats hanging on hooks outside the grade four classroom door. Tl them! I swallowed and hung back. Mother, here were so many , turned and saw thi id paused long enous! “Your teacher's name is Mr. John: coming, I'm sure you'll like him.” What she did Not see : the thought of no doubt thar my Not yet met a te mM to, piderstand was that it w ston that was fj : ti Rasher andl woutg acher who had not ightening me. | hal ke each other. I had liked me WHERE I BELONG © 1956. Alan & the painting: | The sound of from behind the children who we feel about a cros class at the e Mother knoc door and propel ably into the cla conversation ste without turning in the room was 1 The author was move IS THEME! Schoo Oil on canvas, 20%x 3644. Nat Viewing the pain 1g: What do you think the group of girls standin al Museum of American Ar, Washington, DC in a cicle in front are saying to each other? The sound of children’s voices came from behind the closed door. It was those children who worried me. How would they feel about a cross-eyed gitl joining their class at the end of November? Mother knocked once, opened the door and propelled! me gently but inexor ably into the classroom. The buzz of conversation stopped instantly. I knew, without turning my head, that every child in the room was staring at me. Out of the 1) The author was moved forward steadily 1S $6 THEME! comer of my eye I glimpsed what seemed like hundreds of boys and girls seated in long straight rows. I later learned that there were only forty-one students in Mr. Johnston's room. But compared to the twelve students in Miss Bogart’ cl forty-one seemed like a multitude Mr Johnston came to meet us, smiling a welcome >u must be Jean,” he said, speaking directly to me. “We have a place ready and waiting for you. Boys and girls, this is Jean , the newest member of our class There was silence 1 row, an empty desk in the front steps seemed ro make ‘on the wooden floor: fe my head down, my cheeks “See you at noon. Jean her sual ” drowning man would clutch at @0P© Noon was only three hours away: The teacher and my mother walked together to just outside the classroom doer and stood talking in voices too low for anyone inside the room to hear. From actoss the aisle, | heard a sharp whisper. “She's cross-eyed.” I did not look to see who had said it. 1 was struggling to control the tears that were threatening 10 well np and spill over Even though this was my first day ina reg- ular classtoom in Canada, I knew that cry- ing right then would be a fatal mistake. [ did not dare blink. | gazed straight ahead. Mr. Johnston came back and the whis- pers stopped. He smiled down at me. The am cay dried up the betray. I did not kno Pe w yet that being Teacher’ Pet was almost worse than be a eyed crybaby. Ing a cross. “Jean will ha rn ee of interesting things »” Mr. Johnston told the class. “She w; 2 as bom in Fo; mos, Mibve where Fomosaigm Wh Nobody knew, N, ng. The teacher we i a dea [slid into the flaming: Mother said a “iigy 27° ae oro Jean Lit, mehow released @ map of so up, and 27 = runrolled and hung ¢ world so ‘i ckboard He got a pointer Pe ahe faraway island thar, fed Taiwan, where I had | Sie fsx years 0 life, Ash for che shat there was something wr Bot efeanm and hand. He held ic vith his lft a ae and did everything with his a he hand. Tey new eeacher was handicapped sre, But there was no time to think ab this now. F : iHlere it is)” he said, “right off the ca of China, Jean has also lived in Hong Kong.” His pointer moved to another invisible speck. “Can you speak Chinese?” he asked m T'was feeling happier. I nodded proud Itdid not cross my mind that with this introduction, Mr. Johnston was giving the bullies in the class added ammunition “Could you say Hello?” he asked. Thesitated. When Christians gree each other in Taiwan, they used the worl for Peace. I knew that non-Christians use a different salutation. | decided to use the Word my family used. These Canadians ould aot know the difference. eng-an,” | said. ra titter sounded all around "* »Ttealized that | should have k**" He Johnston frowned at the noi Would fase shed. Uheard him sigh 1! *P tying to help. But nobody: leas * of al tl em: ike me, 1° teacher, could make the" \ Us, Jeanmp 1% Very glad you have jo" Sia aidieoime! Looking at 0° WHERE | BELONG # from Lit others, he ad your best to in Guelph.” I stood uf Save the Kir Prayer. Whe ever, the hin never sat at took me a se it drop down down with a more muffle When th L opened it« close, as usu idea how od Thad never touched the both the box forth as I fol I caught mo ‘was too ples attention. As the ot | realized wi any of them turn. I woul “Good, J Mr. Johnsto! the page. I glowed Then it Printing wa child to rea 5. In the 19405, C sang “God Sav 4 Someone who ‘might be anyt 20% THEN from Little by Little others, he added, “I know you will all do your best to make Jean feel welcome here in Guelph.” I stood up with the rest to sing “God Save the King”* and mumbled the Lord's Prayer. When I slid out of the desk, how- ever, the hinged seat flipped up. I had never sat at that kind of desk before. It took me a second to find out how to make: it drop down again. In my hurry, I let it go down with a resounding bang. There were more muffled giggles. When the teacher gave me my reader, I opened it eagerly. I had to hold it up close, as usual, to see the words. I had no idea how odd I looked when I read, since [had never seen myself doing it. My nose touched the page, as always, and I moved both the book and my head back and forth as I followed the line of print along. I caught more smothered laughter, but 1 was too pleased with the new book to pay attention. As the others took turns reading aloud, | realized with relief that I read as well as any of them, better than most. It was my turn. I would show them. “Good, Jean. You read with expression,” Mr. Johnston said as 1 came to the end of the page. I glowed. Then it was time for the writing lesson. Printing was easier for a visually impaired" child to read than cursive writing which 5. nthe 1940s, Canada was part of the British Empire: Canadians sang “God Save the King.” the British national anthem. 4. Someone who is visually impaired has a vision problem, which might be anything from crossed eyes to Diindness, was taught in grade four. Because of this, | was not supposed to learn to write with all the letters joined together, but to go on printing, When Mr. Johnston's class got out the lined notebooks in which they practiced rows of loops and squiggles, I had to be given a different activity. That morning Mr. Johnston should have had me do extra arithmetic problems. Since I had skipped grade three, I was extremely shaky when it came to knowing my times tables. But Mr. Johnston gave me a box of colored chalk instead and sent me to the board to draw a picture. I loved doing it, of course. I drew a huge castle with a flag flying from its tallest tower. I put in trees. I felt drew trees especially well. I used all the colors in the box. I did not feel the hostile glances aimed at my back. I was having fun while they worked. No wonder, before the first recess bell had rung, I had forty enemies. They never knew that | practiced “real writing” like theirs at home and envied them their chance to use those specially lined writing books. When we went out for recess, nobody spoke to me. It was as though I had suddenly become invisible. Everyone else knew what to do, where to go. | stayed close to the door, shivering in the November wind and wishing recess would end. Ac noon, Hugh’ told us all about some boys he had met. I listened to stories about 5, Hugh is the author's brother. Vocabulary hostile (host’al) ad) feeling or showing strong dislike 20% THEME! x with a pang. Never Dick and Bill Webet a friend chat mind. Perhaps I would make afternoon. But nobody except Mr. Johnston spoke to me when I got back to school. We had @ spelling bee. I was one of the bést spellers in the class, | was slowest at arithmetic, though, and I could not see where the skimos lived on the big map. When four o'clock came, I was very glad it was time £0 go home The name-calling began the instant I left d shelter of the play- Boys going in my direction started up the chant as soon as they knew Mr. Johnston could not see or hear them, ss-eyed! Cross-eyed!” Shinky-chinky “Teacher's Pet!” hinaman!” “Knock, knock Who goes there? Little Jean Little In her underwear!” T began to run, but they swarmed after me, screaming faunts. Iran faster, my heart thudding, my eyes blu thd yes blurring with ube, ot City en Stick your finger in yon And tell your mother tyes Crybaby, cry” usted Vocabulary pan ono tat nn a © Sa grep eo, ema Po ss Jean Lit ‘AsIfled, each pounding step j, hole body. What would they do they caught me? Home was only f HHocks away, but even though I pos few along the sidewalk, it seem hours to get there. Aho: bay rioys 3 th one of her readers from Li In my by patch of ice one knee. 1 They sounc take time t and runnin hounds afte Thad nc fast I could realized bet had depenc brothers fo when we li Toronto. S was a two- school, wit third- and grade class. in grade or Jamie, in g went to Vi School, se away. No | the boys fight my b: could I tht what my b to them. Sobbins at last. The open the b Then I sto She cat into her a “What holding m displ scraped kr 22% THE \ \ from Little by Little In my breathless dash, I slipped on a patch of ice and went crashing down on one knee. There were shrieks of delight. They sounded so menacing that I did not take time to inspect my wounds but was up and running on like a fox with a pack of hounds after it Thad not realized before how fast I could run. J also had not realized before how much I had depended on my two brothers for protection when we lived in Toronto. St. John’s The cat calls office examining room.‘ Gently she peeled off my stocking and cleaned up the smear of blood As she tended my hurt knee, Mother lis- tened to the story of the bulllies chasing me home and calling me names. She did not gasp or shudder. Her calm helped to quiet my storm of tears. “{ want you to walk there with me,” I finished up. “They'd leave me alone if you were there.” She did not answer at once. When she had was a two-room died away as helped me change into school, with only > other stockings, she third- and fourth- I pulled open sat down in the rock- grade classes. Hugh, the big front ing chair and took me in grade one, and ees on her lap. I was a bit Jamie, in grade six, went to Victory School, several blocks away. No longer were the boys there to help fight my battles. No longer could I threaten bullies with what my big brother would do to them. Sobbing with relief, l reached our house at last. The cat calls died away as I pulled open the big front door and stumbled inside. Then I stood still and wailed, “Mother!” She came running and gathered me into her arms. “What happened?” she demanded, holding me close. I displayed my torn stocking and scraped knee. She led me into the Vocabulary stumbled inside. big, but neither of us noticed. “Pm so sorry you had such a bad time,” she said, As she rocked the chair slowly back and forth, her cheek rested against my hair. Little by little, peace filled me. In drowsy content ! listened as she went on, “But you'll have to learn to laugh at teasing, Jean. If | walked you to school each day, you would never make friends. Remember that rhyme...” I remembered it. I did not like it. It was not true. I gave a wriggle of protest but she repeated it anyway. 6. house has an office examining room becau: Parents are doctors. ae menacing (men’ 9s ing) ad. threatening: dangerous 2% THEME1 “Sticks and stones May break my bones, But names will never hurt me.” “But names do hurt me!” I growled. “And | Want you to walk with me. I dort want them for friends. I hate them.” cis hard not to hate people when they've made you so miserable,” she greed, “But youl just have to laugh i off They won't tease you when they see that Goudonte mind.” “Bt | do mind?” She laughed softly, ave me a last hug, aniltipped mé back onto my own two feet Didn't she care” | knew the answer, Her ee eee ee ee much. If she could fix things, she would. Pee “mother could not fx, I would have to work Toots Foe eel ‘Anal didn’t know how. Then why wouldn't she come an she teacher! Why wouldne she Rete battles for me? " Because they were my ‘ than Mr Johnston had helped when tad told the others to make me ween The doorbell rang, “Maybe it's for you, and answer it.” She was tr but I went. Mary Weber s smiled at me. She and she was alm Politely to see wi " Mother said, “Rin tying to distract me, kn, tood on the step ang lived across the fost as old as Jamie, | et, ho she wanted to ne Jean Little, veche said “Your mum says yo, sre gered if you'd ike toc me and get some book; coh lias ay for a long bere [ totally forgot the name Eling and my sore Knee, ILM Hig ove cy Tsaid: “Till rell Mochex” ‘Ac we walked side by side down the spony sidewalk, Tele t00 shy to start a srevenacion with such a big girl. [ hoped somebody from my class would see us. If they found out Mary Weber was my it might make a difference. "Grarting school in a new town can be prety rough at first,” Mary said gently Tshot astartled look up at her. Did she know or was she guessing? She knew. Living right across the street, she traveled the same route as I did. She must have sen fing fom those boys Tena comforted, Meret aa endl silence. Thes ae and steered me to the mc she said. “The Children’ back.” atts. The door is at the “Hi, Jean, like to read ee WE Were ins: Flight of zy, a side, we went down 2 MSs Shelveg ete lange room ills the See exte e OUND three walls Tonntthe canta, pooKCases in front of ble with bie t8e Foor were some on, them, Wi ig Picture iba ere SO a light on en ks spread out done yeaemogn pet level let the coun Ser i in. Right inside iatghoge, hi lled off by an L- Aes Sa woman was Po Watching tt lad hs PB Out boo] 'Y Stood at the IY fp 22K fora couple ~~ Stiled at Mary: Were | BELONG ® ” tow migt join learr Ther how smal nami trick ing i swep site ¢ Did \ strat ink ins dip the into ink tains a Must b 7. Fee unt from Little by Little “Miss Metcalf, this is Jean Little,” Mary said to her. “She wants to join the library.” “How old are you, dear” the lady asked. “Nearly nine.” “Can you write your name?” | felt indignant.’ Of course I knew how to write my name! Then I realized she might mean “write” with the letters all joined together the way the others were Jeamning to do at school. | thought fast. There were several letters 1 did not know how to make yet—z and k and y and a small j, But none of those were in my name. “Jean” was easy, but “Little” was trickier with that capital L. I tried pictur- ing it, [twent up and around in a loop, swept down and looped again in the oppo- site direction, didn’t it? I could do it. I nodded. Thad hesitated alittle too long. @ Miss Metcalf stud- ied me. I nodded again, emphatically this time. “Come over here,” she said. - Did You Know? She led us over Astraight pen does not have toa smaller table ink inside so awiterfasto with a huge book: dip the point (called a nib) inl ink A fountain pen con- tains an inkfilled tube that must be refiled on it. Beside it was a big ink bottle and : a straight pen, the 1. Feeling indignant being quiely angry because ofan insult or unis. Vocabulary kind you had to keep dipping. Thad never used one of those before. It was not till grade five that you had an inkwell in your desk and learned to use a straight pen. Mr. Johnston's class were doing their writing lessons with a pencil. I had written with my parents’ fountain pens, though. I knew you ad to be careful not to press down on it You weren’t supposed to grip the pen too tightly, either. It was complicated. Breathing hard and biting my tongue in order to concentrate, I picked up the long pen, dipped the nib into the ink bottle and began to write. Thad not known enough to let the excess ink drain back into the ink bottle The first thing I did, on that tidy page, was make a black blot. The librarian cut-tutted. My face burned. I stared down at the stain. It looked gigantic. “Never mind, dear,” Miss Metcalf said ina kindly but faintly disapproving voice. “Go ahead.” My hand shook. I wrote “Jean” and paused for breath, Then I did the “L” care- fully. I started at the bottom and drew it rather than wrote it, but when it was done, it looked all right. I sighed with relief and finished signing the register without any further mishaps My name was in the book. A few minutes later, Miss Metcalf handed me my first library card. I took it eae era out four books a day,” she “Two white card books and ‘emphatically (em fatal €) od forcefully mishap (mis’ hap’) n. an unfortunate accident reverently (ev’a¢ ant?) odin a way that shows deep honor; respectfully U4 % THEME 1 from Little by Li blue. Their je whe id on the spir ing Jean Webste Nelia Gardner White, T. stared at them . whisper, what the differ nce was, White cards were in the back of story, books. Heidi, The n, all the Oz books, and the Anne books had white cards. The nonfic- tion ones, filled with facts every child should kn had blue cards tucked into the cardboard pocket inside the back cover. Thad not heard of the C the Anne books. But I white card books were what Mary did not think to te books of poetry also had blu back, and so did biographie: were some good books in th nonfiction, In time, I found Twandered up and down, hundreds of books I Viewing the paint fel abut eating? could ch Mary went off to get books fc és ; volumes down and flipped th fo ol cee Ate reading lulet, Because shelves, The in to the nearest set liked the way she. soya.) Had the W em. Ir lporant. I undemeont® Teading sound the ‘on them. | acks of the books. TI Overs, Most of ch IM dark wine or browe Mm the way the 6% THEME WHERE TBELONG from Little by Little blue. Their names, and the names of the people who had written them, 11d on the spines. jean Webster, Kate Douglas Wiggin, Nelia Gardner White, T. H. White. 1 seared at them greedily. So many! “Which are white card ones?” I whis-

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