tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-71938229875999679502024-02-20T05:35:28.765-08:00English III Hub"The World Speaks English, Why dont you?"Mr. Ohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05461546985513127889noreply@blogger.comBlogger17125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7193822987599967950.post-59588150852707861802011-08-05T00:01:00.000-07:002011-08-05T00:01:27.164-07:00Conditional SentencesThey are used to talk about things that can only happen under certain conditions. <br />
<br />
They are made up of two clauses – <b>one main clause and one subordinate clause.</b><br />
<br />
The subordinate clause is introduced by if and states the condition. The main clause gives the result of the conclusion.<br />
<br />
If the main clause begins the sentence, there is no comma.<br />
<i><br />
She will buy ice cream if she goes to the store. </i><br />
<br />
If the subordinate clause begins the sentence, use a comma.<br />
<br />
<i>If she goes to the store, she will buy ice cream</i><br />
<br />
Conditional sentences express three kinds of meaning relationships: factual, predictive, and imaginative.<br />
<br />
<b>Factual</b> - Generalizations include facts that are always true and never change, and they include present or past habitual activities that are or were usually true.<br />
<br />
<i>Tense:</i> Same tense (usually simple present or simple past) in both clauses.<br />
If you pour oil into water, it floats.<br />
If you heat water to 100°C, it boils.<br />
If he ate breakfast, he felt better all day.<br />
If it rained, They got wet. <br />
<br />
<b>Predictive</b> - Predictive conditional sentences usually contain present tense in the if-clause and will or be going to in the result clause. However, modals of prediction ( shall, may, or might for example) can be used in the result clause to express certainty.<br />
<i>Tense:</i> Present tense in the if-clause and will or be going to in the result clause. The main clause may also use modal helping verbs may, shall, or might with the present form of any verb. <br />
<br />
If you heat water to 100°C, it will boil.<br />
If you pour oil into water, the oil is going to float.<br />
<br />
<b>Imaginative</b> - Imaginative conditional sentences can express hypothetical or contrary-to-fact events or states.<br />
<i>Tense:</i> The verb in the if clause is in the past tense and the verb in the main clause is in the conditional (could or would + V)<br />
The verb in the if clause is in the past perfect tense and the verb in the main clause is in the perfect conditional ( would have or could have + the past participle of the V)<br />
<br />
If I were a bird, I would soar high in the sky.<br />
If I had wings, I would (or could) fly.<br />
If it were raining, the streets would be wet.<br />
If I were you, I would not do that.Mr. Ohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05461546985513127889noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7193822987599967950.post-64275834988246647312011-08-04T23:57:00.000-07:002011-08-04T23:57:02.216-07:00IP Address 112.205.132You know who you are and what you did.. I'm gonna be your worst nightmare.. Ill find out who you are...Mr. Ohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05461546985513127889noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7193822987599967950.post-24660356324960112152011-07-26T03:50:00.000-07:002011-07-26T03:50:00.673-07:00Beowulf's Last Battle<a title="View Beowulf Last Battle on Scribd" href="http://www.scribd.com/doc/60939128/Beowulf-Last-Battle" style="margin: 12px auto 6px auto; font-family: Helvetica,Arial,Sans-serif; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; font-size: 14px; line-height: normal; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; -x-system-font: none; display: block; text-decoration: underline;">Beowulf Last Battle</a><iframe class="scribd_iframe_embed" src="http://www.scribd.com/embeds/60939128/content?start_page=1&view_mode=list&access_key=key-xun27mfxxfzfav70qoq" data-auto-height="true" data-aspect-ratio="1.2938689217759" scrolling="no" id="doc_62685" width="100%" height="600" frameborder="0"></iframe><script type="text/javascript">(function() { var scribd = document.createElement("script"); scribd.type = "text/javascript"; scribd.async = true; scribd.src = "http://www.scribd.com/javascripts/embed_code/inject.js"; var s = document.getElementsByTagName("script")[0]; s.parentNode.insertBefore(scribd, s); })();</script>Mr. Ohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05461546985513127889noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7193822987599967950.post-63117872716923630942011-07-26T03:43:00.000-07:002011-07-26T03:43:46.755-07:00Literary Devices<a title="View Beowulf Literary Devices on Scribd" href="http://www.scribd.com/doc/60939302/Beowulf-Literary-Devices" style="margin: 12px auto 6px auto; font-family: Helvetica,Arial,Sans-serif; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; font-size: 14px; line-height: normal; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; -x-system-font: none; display: block; text-decoration: underline;">Beowulf Literary Devices</a><iframe class="scribd_iframe_embed" src="http://www.scribd.com/embeds/60939302/content?start_page=1&view_mode=list&access_key=key-md6ib3387ri89237e8c" data-auto-height="true" data-aspect-ratio="1.2938689217759" scrolling="no" id="doc_39370" width="100%" height="600" frameborder="0"></iframe><script type="text/javascript">(function() { var scribd = document.createElement("script"); scribd.type = "text/javascript"; scribd.async = true; scribd.src = "http://www.scribd.com/javascripts/embed_code/inject.js"; var s = document.getElementsByTagName("script")[0]; s.parentNode.insertBefore(scribd, s); })();</script>Mr. Ohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05461546985513127889noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7193822987599967950.post-78347834032832698912011-07-09T20:42:00.000-07:002011-07-09T20:42:24.159-07:00The Final BattleThe Final Battle <br />
<br />
. . . Then he said farewell to his followers, <br />
Each in his turn, for the last time: <br />
“I’d use no sword, no weapon, if this beast <br />
Could be killed without it, crushed to death <br />
Like Grendel, gripped in my hands and torn <br />
Limb from limb. But his breath will be burning <br />
Hot, poison will pour from his tongue. <br />
I feel no shame, with shield and sword <br />
And armor, against this monster: When he comes to me <br />
I mean to stand, not run from his shooting <br />
Flames, stand till fate decides <br />
Which of us wins. My heart is firm, <br />
My hands calm: I need no hot <br />
Words. Wait for me close by, my friends. <br />
We shall see, soon, who will survive <br />
This bloody battle, stand when the fighting <br />
Is done. No one else could do <br />
What I mean to, here, no man but me <br />
Could hope to defeat this monster. No one <br />
Could try. And this dragon’s treasure, his gold <br />
And everything hidden in that tower, will be mine <br />
Or war will sweep me to a bitter death!” <br />
Then Beowulf rose, still brave, still strong, <br />
And with his shield at his side, and a mail shirt on his breast, <br />
Strode calmly, confidently, toward the tower, under <br />
The rocky cliffs: No coward could have walked there! <br />
And then he who’d endured dozens of desperate <br />
Battles, who’d stood boldly while swords and shields <br />
Clashed, the best of kings, saw <br />
Huge stone arches and felt the heat <br />
Of the dragon’s breath, flooding down <br />
Through the hidden entrance, too hot for anyone <br />
To stand, a streaming current of fire <br />
And smoke that blocked all passage. And the Geats’ <br />
Lord and leader, angry, lowered <br />
His sword and roared out a battle cry, <br />
A call so loud and clear that it reached through <br />
The hoary rock, hung in the dragon’s <br />
Ear. The beast rose, angry, <br />
Knowing a man had come—and then nothing <br />
But war could have followed. Its breath came first, <br />
A steaming cloud pouring from the stone, <br />
Then the earth itself shook. Beowulf <br />
Swung his shield into place, held it <br />
In front of him, facing the entrance. The dragon <br />
Coiled and uncoiled, its heart urging it <br />
Into battle. Beowulf’s ancient sword <br />
Was waiting, unsheathed, his sharp and gleaming <br />
Blade. The beast came closer; both of them <br />
Were ready, each set on slaughter. The Geats’ <br />
Great prince stood firm, unmoving, prepared <br />
Behind his high shield, waiting in his shining <br />
Armor. The monster came quickly toward him, <br />
Pouring out fire and smoke, hurrying <br />
To its fate. Flames beat at the iron <br />
Shield, and for a time it held, protected <br />
Beowulf as he’d planned; then it began to melt, <br />
And for the first time in his life that famous prince <br />
Fought with fate against him, with glory <br />
Denied him. He knew it, but he raised his sword <br />
And struck at the dragon’s scaly hide. <br />
The ancient blade broke, bit into <br />
The monster’s skin, drew blood, but cracked <br />
And failed him before it went deep enough, helped him <br />
Less than he needed. The dragon leaped <br />
With pain, thrashed and beat at him, spouting <br />
Murderous flames, spreading them everywhere. <br />
And the Geats’ ring-giver did not boast of glorious <br />
Victories in other wars: His weapon <br />
Had failed him, deserted him, now when he needed it <br />
Most, that excellent sword. Edgetho’s <br />
Famous son stared at death, <br />
Unwilling to leave this world, to exchange it <br />
For a dwelling in some distant place—a journey <br />
Into darkness that all men must make, as death <br />
Ends their few brief hours on earth. <br />
Quickly, the dragon came at him, encouraged <br />
As Beowulf fell back; its breath flared, <br />
And he suffered, wrapped around in swirling <br />
Flames—a king, before, but now <br />
A beaten warrior. None of his comrades <br />
Came to him, helped him, his brave and noble <br />
Followers; they ran for their lives, fled <br />
Deep in a wood. And only one of them <br />
Remained, stood there, miserable, remembering, <br />
As a good man must, what kinship should mean. <br />
<br />
His name was Wiglaf, he was Wexstan’s son <br />
And a good soldier; his family had been Swedish, <br />
Once. Watching Beowulf, he could see <br />
How his king was suffering, burning. Remembering <br />
Everything his lord and cousin had given him, <br />
Armor and gold and the great estates <br />
Wexstan’s family enjoyed, Wiglaf’s <br />
Mind was made up; he raised his yellow <br />
Shield and drew his sword. . . . <br />
And Wiglaf, his heart heavy, uttered <br />
The kind of words his comrades deserved: <br />
“I remember how we sat in the mead-hall, drinking <br />
And boasting of how brave we’d be when Beowulf <br />
Needed us, he who gave us these swords <br />
And armor: All of us swore to repay him, <br />
When the time came, kindness for kindness —With our lives, if he needed them. He allowed us to join him, <br />
Chose us from all his great army, thinking <br />
Our boasting words had some weight, believing <br />
<br />
Our promises, trusting our swords. He took us <br />
For soldiers, for men. He meant to kill <br />
This monster himself, our mighty king, <br />
Fight this battle alone and unaided, <br />
As in the days when his strength and daring dazzled <br />
Men’s eyes. But those days are over and gone <br />
And now our lord must lean on younger <br />
Arms. And we must go to him, while angry <br />
Flames burn at his flesh, help <br />
Our glorious king! By almighty God, <br />
I’d rather burn myself than see <br />
Flames swirling around my lord. <br />
And who are we to carry home <br />
Our shields before we’ve slain his enemy <br />
And ours, to run back to our homes with Beowulf <br />
So hard-pressed here? I swear that nothing <br />
He ever did deserved an end <br />
Like this, dying miserably and alone, <br />
Butchered by this savage beast: We swore <br />
That these swords and armor were each for us all!” . . . <br />
. . . Then Wiglaf went back, anxious <br />
To return while Beowulf was alive, to bring him <br />
Treasure they’d won together. He ran, <br />
Hoping his wounded king, weak <br />
And dying, had not left the world too soon. <br />
Then he brought their treasure to Beowulf, and found <br />
His famous king bloody, gasping <br />
For breath. But Wiglaf sprinkled water <br />
Over his lord, until the words <br />
Deep in his breast broke through and were heard. <br />
Beholding the treasure he spoke, haltingly: <br />
“For this, this gold, these jewels, I thank <br />
Our Father in Heaven, Ruler of the Earth—<br />
For all of this, that His grace has given me, <br />
Allowed me to bring to my people while breath <br />
Still came to my lips. I sold my life <br />
For this treasure, and I sold it well. Take <br />
What I leave, Wiglaf, lead my people, <br />
Help them; my time is gone. Have <br />
The brave Geats build me a tomb, <br />
When the funeral flames have burned me, and build it <br />
Here, at the water’s edge, high <br />
On this spit of land, so sailors can see <br />
This tower, and remember my name, and call it <br />
Beowulf’s tower, and boats in the darkness <br />
And mist, crossing the sea, will know it.” <br />
Then that brave king gave the golden <br />
Necklace from around his throat to Wiglaf, <br />
Gave him his gold-covered helmet, and his rings, <br />
And his mail shirt, and ordered him to use them well: <br />
“You’re the last of all our far-flung family. <br />
Fate has swept our race away, <br />
Taken warriors in their strength and led them <br />
To the death that was waiting. And now I follow them.” <br />
The old man’s mouth was silent, spoke <br />
No more, had said as much as it could; <br />
He would sleep in the fire, soon. His soul <br />
Left his flesh, flew to glory. <br />
<br />
. . . And then twelve of the bravest Geats <br />
Rode their horses around the tower, <br />
Telling their sorrow, telling stories <br />
Of their dead king and his greatness, his glory, <br />
Praising him for heroic deeds, for a life <br />
As noble as his name. So should all men <br />
Raise up words for their lords, warm <br />
With love, when their shield and protector leaves <br />
His body behind, sends his soul <br />
On high. And so Beowulf’s followers <br />
Rode, mourning their beloved leader, <br />
Crying that no better king had ever <br />
Lived, no prince so mild, no man <br />
So open to his people, so deserving of praise.Mr. Ohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05461546985513127889noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7193822987599967950.post-85778092115710397002011-07-09T20:41:00.001-07:002011-07-09T20:41:30.264-07:00The Monster's MotherThe Monster's Mother <br />
He leaped into the lake, would not wait for anyone’s <br />
Answer; the heaving water covered him <br />
Over. For hours he sank through the waves; <br />
At last he saw the mud of the bottom. <br />
And all at once the greedy she-wolf <br />
Who’d ruled those waters for half a hundred <br />
Years discovered him, saw that a creature <br />
From above had come to explore the bottom <br />
Of her wet world. She welcomed him in her claws, <br />
Clutched at him savagely but could not harm him, <br />
Tried to work her fingers through the tight <br />
Ring-woven mail on his breast, but tore <br />
And scratched in vain. Then she carried him, armor <br />
And sword and all, to her home; he struggled <br />
To free his weapon, and failed. The fight <br />
Brought other monsters swimming to see <br />
Her catch, a host of sea beasts who beat at <br />
His mail shirt, stabbing with tusks and teeth <br />
As they followed along. Then he realized, suddenly, <br />
That she’d brought him into someone’s battle-hall, <br />
And there the water’s heat could not hurt him, <br />
Nor anything in the lake attack him through <br />
The building’s high-arching roof. A brilliant <br />
Light burned all around him, the lake <br />
Itself like a fiery flame. <br />
Then he saw <br />
The mighty water witch, and swung his sword, <br />
His ring-marked blade, straight at her head; <br />
The iron sang its fierce song, <br />
Sang Beowulf’s strength. But her guest <br />
Discovered that no sword could slice her evil <br />
Skin, that Hrunting could not hurt her, was useless <br />
Now when he needed it. They wrestled, she ripped <br />
And tore and clawed at him, bit holes in his helmet, <br />
And that too failed him; for the first time in years <br />
Of being worn to war it would earn no glory; <br />
It was the last time anyone would wear it. But Beowulf <br />
Longed only for fame, leaped back <br />
Into battle. He tossed his sword aside, <br />
Angry; the steel-edged blade lay where <br />
He’d dropped it. If weapons were useless he’d use <br />
His hands, the strength in his fingers. So fame <br />
Comes to the men who mean to win it <br />
And care about nothing else! He raised <br />
His arms and seized her by the shoulder; anger <br />
Doubled his strength, he threw her to the floor. <br />
She fell, Grendel’s fierce mother, and the Geats’ <br />
Proud prince was ready to leap on her. But she rose <br />
At once and repaid him with her clutching claws, <br />
Wildly tearing at him. He was weary, that best <br />
And strongest of soldiers; his feet stumbled <br />
<br />
And in an instant she had him down, held helpless. <br />
Squatting with her weight on his stomach, she drew <br />
A dagger, brown with dried blood and prepared <br />
To avenge her only son. But he was stretched <br />
On his back, and her stabbing blade was blunted <br />
By the woven mail shirt he wore on his chest. <br />
The hammered links held; the point <br />
Could not touch him. He’d have traveled to the bottom of the earth, <br />
Edgetho’s son, and died there, if that shining <br />
Woven metal had not helped—and Holy <br />
God, who sent him victory, gave judgment <br />
For truth and right, Ruler of the Heavens, <br />
Once Beowulf was back on his feet and fighting. <br />
Then he saw, hanging on the wall, a heavy <br />
Sword, hammered by giants, strong <br />
And blessed with their magic, the best of all weapons <br />
But so massive that no ordinary man could lift <br />
Its carved and decorated length. He drew it <br />
From its scabbard, broke the chain on its hilt,<br />
And then, savage, now, angry <br />
And desperate, lifted it high over his head <br />
And struck with all the strength he had left, <br />
Caught her in the neck and cut it through, <br />
Broke bones and all. Her body fell <br />
To the floor, lifeless, the sword was wet <br />
With her blood, and Beowulf rejoiced at the sight. <br />
The brilliant light shone, suddenly, <br />
As though burning in that hall, and as bright as Heaven’s <br />
Own candle, lit in the sky. He looked <br />
At her home, then following along the wall <br />
Went walking, his hands tight on the sword, <br />
His heart still angry. He was hunting another <br />
Dead monster, and took his weapon with him <br />
For final revenge against Grendel’s vicious <br />
Attacks, his nighttime raids, over <br />
And over, coming to Herot when Hrothgar’s <br />
Men slept, killing them in their beds, <br />
Eating some on the spot, fifteen <br />
Or more, and running to his loathsome moor <br />
With another such sickening meal waiting <br />
In his pouch. But Beowulf repaid him for those visits, <br />
Found him lying dead in his corner, <br />
Armless, exactly as that fierce fighter <br />
Had sent him out from Herot, then struck off <br />
His head with a single swift blow. The body <br />
Jerked for the last time, then lay still. . .Mr. Ohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05461546985513127889noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7193822987599967950.post-28848224722540690642011-07-09T20:40:00.000-07:002011-07-09T20:40:27.169-07:00The Battle with GrendelThe Battle with Grendel <br />
<br />
Out from the marsh, from the foot of misty <br />
Hills and bogs, bearing God’s hatred, <br />
Grendel came, hoping to kill <br />
Anyone he could trap on this trip to high Herot. <br />
He moved quickly through the cloudy night, <br />
Up from his swampland, sliding silently <br />
Toward that gold-shining hall. He had visited Hrothgar’s <br />
Home before, knew the way— <br />
But never, before nor after that night, <br />
Found Herot defended so firmly, his reception <br />
So harsh. He journeyed, forever joyless, <br />
Straight to the door, then snapped it open, <br />
Tore its iron fasteners with a touch, <br />
And rushed angrily over the threshold. <br />
He strode quickly across the inlaid <br />
Floor, snarling and fierce: His eyes <br />
Gleamed in the darkness, burned with a gruesome <br />
Light. Then he stopped, seeing the hall <br />
Crowded with sleeping warriors, stuffed <br />
With rows of young soldiers resting together. <br />
And his heart laughed, he relished the sight, <br />
Intended to tear the life from those bodies <br />
By morning; the monster’s mind was hot <br />
With the thought of food and the feasting his belly <br />
Would soon know. But fate, that night, intended <br />
Grendel to gnaw the broken bones <br />
Of his last human supper. Human <br />
Eyes were watching his evil steps, <br />
Waiting to see his swift hard claws. <br />
Grendel snatched at the first Geat <br />
He came to, ripped him apart, cut <br />
His body to bits with powerful jaws, <br />
Drank the blood from his veins, and bolted <br />
Him down, hands and feet; death <br />
And Grendel’s great teeth came together, <br />
Snapping life shut. Then he stepped to another <br />
Still body, clutched at Beowulf with his claws, <br />
Grasped at a strong-hearted wakeful sleeper —And was instantly seized himself, claws <br />
Bent back as Beowulf leaned up on one arm. <br />
That shepherd of evil, guardian of crime, <br />
Knew at once that nowhere on earth <br />
Had he met a man whose hands were harder; <br />
His mind was flooded with fear—but nothing <br />
Could take his talons and himself from that tight <br />
Hard grip. Grendel’s one thought was to run <br />
From Beowulf, flee back to his marsh and hide there: <br />
This was a different Herot than the hall he had emptied. <br />
But Higlac’s follower remembered his final <br />
<br />
Boast and, standing erect, stopped <br />
The monster’s flight, fastened those claws <br />
In his fists till they cracked, clutched Grendel <br />
Closer. The infamous killer fought <br />
For his freedom, wanting no flesh but retreat, <br />
Desiring nothing but escape; his claws <br />
Had been caught, he was trapped. That trip to Herot <br />
Was a miserable journey for the writhing monster! <br />
The high hall rang, its roof boards swayed, <br />
And Danes shook with terror. Down <br />
The aisles the battle swept, angry <br />
And wild. Herot trembled, wonderfully <br />
Built to withstand the blows, the struggling <br />
Great bodies beating at its beautiful walls; <br />
Shaped and fastened with iron, inside <br />
And out, artfully worked, the building <br />
Stood firm. Its benches rattled, fell <br />
To the floor, gold-covered boards grating <br />
As Grendel and Beowulf battled across them. <br />
Hrothgar’s wise men had fashioned Herot <br />
To stand forever; only fire, <br />
They had planned, could shatter what such skill had put <br />
Together, swallow in hot flames such splendor <br />
Of ivory and iron and wood. Suddenly <br />
The sounds changed, the Danes started <br />
In new terror, cowering in their beds as the terrible <br />
Screams of the Almighty’s enemy sang <br />
In the darkness, the horrible shrieks of pain <br />
And defeat, the tears torn out of Grendel’s <br />
Taut throat, hell’s captive caught in the arms <br />
Of him who of all the men on earth <br />
Was the strongest. <br />
That mighty protector of men <br />
Meant to hold the monster till its life <br />
Leaped out, knowing the fiend was no use <br />
To anyone in Denmark. All of Beowulf’s <br />
Band had jumped from their beds, ancestral <br />
Swords raised and ready, determined <br />
To protect their prince if they could. Their courage <br />
Was great but all wasted: They could hack at Grendel <br />
From every side, trying to open <br />
A path for his evil soul, but their points <br />
Could not hurt him, the sharpest and hardest iron <br />
Could not scratch at his skin, for that sin-stained demon <br />
Had bewitched all men’s weapons, laid spells <br />
That blunted every mortal man’s blade. <br />
And yet his time had come, his days <br />
Were over, his death near; down <br />
To hell he would go, swept groaning and helpless <br />
<br />
The Battle with Grendel - Continued <br />
<br />
To the waiting hands of still worse fiends. <br />
Now he discovered—once the afflictor <br />
Of men, tormentor of their days—what it meant <br />
To feud with Almighty God: Grendel <br />
Saw that his strength was deserting him, his claws <br />
Bound fast, Higlac’s brave follower tearing at <br />
His hands. The monster’s hatred rose higher, <br />
But his power had gone. He twisted in pain, <br />
And the bleeding sinews deep in his shoulder <br />
Snapped, muscle and bone split <br />
And broke. The battle was over, Beowulf <br />
Had been granted new glory: Grendel escaped, <br />
But wounded as he was could flee to his den, <br />
His miserable hole at the bottom of the marsh, <br />
Only to die, to wait for the end <br />
Of all his days. And after that bloody <br />
Combat the Danes laughed with delight. <br />
He who had come to them from across the sea, <br />
Bold and strong-minded, had driven affliction <br />
Off, purged Herot clean. He was happy, <br />
Now, with that night’s fierce work; the Danes <br />
Had been served as he’d boasted he’d serve them; Beowulf, <br />
A prince of the Geats, had killed Grendel, <br />
Ended the grief, the sorrow, the suffering <br />
Forced on Hrothgar’s helpless people <br />
By a bloodthirsty fiend. No Dane doubted <br />
The victory, for the proof, hanging high <br />
From the rafters where Beowulf had hung it, was the monster’s <br />
Arm, claw and shoulder and all. <br />
And then, in the morning, crowds surrounded <br />
Herot, warriors coming to that hall <br />
From faraway lands, princes and leaders <br />
Of men hurrying to behold the monster’s <br />
Great staggering tracks. They gaped with no sense <br />
Of sorrow, felt no regret for his suffering, <br />
Went tracing his bloody footprints, his beaten <br />
And lonely flight, to the edge of the lake <br />
Where he’d dragged his corpselike way, doomed <br />
And already weary of his vanishing life. <br />
The water was bloody, steaming and boiling <br />
In horrible pounding waves, heat <br />
Sucked from his magic veins; but the swirling <br />
Surf had covered his death, hidden <br />
Deep in murky darkness his miserable <br />
<br />
End, as hell opened to receive him. <br />
Then old and young rejoiced, turned back <br />
From that happy pilgrimage, mounted their hard-hooved <br />
Horses, high-spirited stallions, and rode them <br />
Slowly toward Herot again, retelling <br />
Beowulf’s bravery as they jogged along. And over and over they swore that nowhere <br />
On earth or under the spreading sky <br />
Or between the seas, neither south nor north, <br />
Was there a warrior worthier to rule over men. <br />
(But no one meant Beowulf’s praise to belittle <br />
Hrothgar, their kind and gracious king!) . . . <br />
“They live in secret places, windy <br />
Cliffs, wolf-dens where water pours <br />
From the rocks, then runs underground, where mist <br />
Steams like black clouds, and the groves of trees <br />
Growing out over their lake are all covered <br />
With frozen spray, and wind down snakelike <br />
Roots that reach as far as the water <br />
And help keep it dark. At night that lake <br />
Burns like a torch. No one knows its bottom, <br />
No wisdom reaches such depths. A deer, <br />
Hunted through the woods by packs of hounds, <br />
A stag with great horns, though driven through the forest <br />
From faraway places, prefers to die <br />
On those shores, refuses to save its life <br />
In that water. It isn’t far, nor is it <br />
A pleasant spot! When the wind stirs <br />
And storms, waves splash toward the sky, <br />
As dark as the air, as black as the rain <br />
That the heavens weep. Our only help, <br />
Again, lies with you. Grendel’s mother <br />
Is hidden in her terrible home, in a place <br />
You’ve not seen. Seek it, if you dare! Save us, <br />
Once more, and again twisted gold, <br />
Heaped-up ancient treasure, will reward you <br />
For the battle you win!Mr. Ohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05461546985513127889noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7193822987599967950.post-68912864067986563362011-06-30T23:38:00.000-07:002011-06-30T23:38:18.902-07:00Part 3.1 - Unferth's ChallengeUnferth spoke, Ecglaf’s son, <br />
Who sat at Hrothgar’s feet, spoke harshly <br />
And sharp (vexed by Beowulf’s adventure, <br />
By their visitor’s courage, and angry that anyone <br />
In Denmark or anywhere on earth had ever <br />
Acquired glory and fame greater <br />
Than his own): <br />
“You’re Beowulf, are you—the same <br />
Boastful fool who fought a swimming <br />
Match with Brecca, both of you daring <br />
And young and proud, exploring the deepest <br />
Seas, risking your lives for no reason <br />
But the danger? <br />
With Brecca at your side you swam along <br />
The sea-paths. Then winter <br />
Churned through the water, the waves ran you <br />
As they willed, and you struggled seven long nights <br />
To survive. And at the end victory was his, <br />
Not yours. The sea carried him close <br />
To his home, to southern Norway, near <br />
The land of the Brondings, where he ruled and was loved. He’d promised to outswim you: <br />
Bonstan’s son made that boast ring true. <br />
You’ve been lucky in your battles, Beowulf, but I think <br />
Your luck may change if you challenge Grendel, <br />
Staying a whole night through in this hall, <br />
Waiting where that fiercest of demons can find you.” <br />
Beowulf answered, Edgetho’s great son: <br />
“Ah! Unferth, my friend, your face <br />
Is hot with ale, and your tongue has tried <br />
To tell us about Brecca’s doings. But the truth <br />
Is simple: No man swims in the sea <br />
As I can, no strength is a match for mine. <br />
As boys, Brecca and I had boasted—<br />
We were both too young to know better—that we’d risk <br />
Our lives far out at sea, and so <br />
We did. Each of us carried a naked <br />
Sword.<br />
He could never leave me behind, swim faster <br />
Across the waves than I could, and I <br />
Had chosen to remain close to his side. <br />
I remained near him for five long nights, <br />
Until a flood swept us apart; <br />
The frozen sea surged around me, <br />
It grew dark, the wind turned bitter, blowing <br />
From the north, and the waves were savage. Creatures <br />
Who sleep deep in the sea were stirred <br />
Into life—A monster seized me, drew me <br />
Swiftly toward the bottom, swimming with its claws <br />
Tight in my flesh. But fate let me <br />
Find its heart with my sword, hack myself <br />
Free; I fought that beast’s last battle, <br />
Left it floating lifeless in the sea. <br />
Other monsters crowded around me, <br />
Continually attacking. I treated them politely, <br />
Offering the edge of my razor-sharp sword<br />
By morning they’d decided to sleep on the shore, <br />
Lying on their backs, their blood spilled out <br />
On the sand. Afterwards, sailors could cross <br />
That sea-road and feel no fear; nothing <br />
Would stop their passing. <br />
And at last I could see the land, wind-swept <br />
Cliff-walls at the edge of the coast.<br />
Lucky or not, nine was the number <br />
Of sea-huge monsters I killed. What man, <br />
Anywhere under Heaven’s high arch, has fought <br />
In such darkness, endured more misery, or been harder <br />
Pressed? Yet I survived the sea, smashed <br />
The monsters’ hot jaws, swam home from my journey. <br />
The swift-flowing waters swept me along <br />
And I landed on Finnish soil. I’ve heard <br />
No tales of you, Unferth, telling <br />
Of such clashing terror, such contests in the night! <br />
Brecca’s battles were never so bold; <br />
Neither he nor you can match me—and I mean <br />
No boast, have announced no more than I know <br />
To be true. <br />
Grendel learned that terror is his alone, <br />
Discovered he can come for your people with no fear <br />
Of reprisal; he’s found no fighting, here, <br />
But only food, only delight. <br />
He murders as he likes, with no mercy, gorges <br />
And feasts on your flesh, and expects no trouble, <br />
No quarrel from the quiet Danes. Now <br />
The Geats will show him courage, soon <br />
He can test his strength in battle. And when the sun <br />
Comes up again, opening another <br />
Bright day from the south, anyone in Denmark <br />
May enter this hall: That evil will be gone!” <br />
Hrothgar, gray-haired and brave, sat happily <br />
Listening, the famous ring-giver sure, <br />
At last, that Grendel could be killed; he believed <br />
In Beowulf’s bold strength and the firmness of his spirit. <br />
There was the sound of laughter, and the cheerful clanking <br />
Of cups, and pleasant words.<br />
Then Welthow, <br />
Hrothgar’s gold-ringed queen, greeted <br />
The warriors; a noble woman who knew <br />
What was right, she raised a flowing cup <br />
To Hrothgar first, holding it high <br />
For the lord of the Danes to drink, wishing him <br />
Joy in that feast. The famous king <br />
Drank with pleasure and blessed their banquet. <br />
Then Welthow went from warrior to warrior, <br />
Pouring a portion from the jeweled cup <br />
For each, and it was Beowulf’s <br />
Turn to be served. She saluted the Geats’ <br />
Great prince, thanked God for answering her prayers, <br />
For allowing her hands the happy duty <br />
Of offering mead to a hero who would help <br />
Her afflicted people. He drank what she poured, <br />
Edgetho’s brave son, then assured the Danish <br />
Queen that his heart was firm and his hands <br />
Ready: <br />
“When we crossed the sea, my comrades <br />
And I, I already knew that all <br />
My purpose was this: to win the good will <br />
Of your people or die in battle, pressed <br />
In Grendel’s fierce grip. Let me live in greatness <br />
And courage, or here in this hall welcome <br />
My death!” <br />
Welthow was pleased with his words, <br />
His bright-tongued boasts; she carried them back <br />
To her lord, walked nobly across to his side. <br />
The feast went on, laughter and music <br />
And the brave words of warriors celebrating <br />
Their delight. Then Hrothgar rose, Healfdane’s <br />
Son, heavy with sleep; as soon <br />
As the sun had gone, he knew that Grendel <br />
Would come to Herot, would visit that hall <br />
When night had covered the earth with its net <br />
And the shapes of darkness moved black and silent <br />
Through the world. Hrothgar’s warriors rose with him. <br />
He went to Beowulf, embraced the Geats’ <br />
Brave prince, wished him well, and hoped <br />
That Herot would be his to command. And then <br />
He declared: <br />
“No one strange to this land <br />
Has ever been granted what I’ve given you, <br />
No one in all the years of my rule. <br />
Make this best of all mead-halls yours, and then <br />
Keep it free of evil, fight <br />
With glory in your heart! Purge Herot <br />
And your ship will sail home with its treasure-holds full.” . . .Mr. Ohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05461546985513127889noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7193822987599967950.post-33288114362155110052011-06-30T23:36:00.000-07:002011-06-30T23:36:47.174-07:00Part 3- The Arrival of the HeroThen they sailed, set their ship<br />
Out on the waves.<br />
The wind hurried them over the waves,<br />
The ship foamed through the sea like a bird<br />
They could see sparkling hills, high and green<br />
In those rock-steep cliffs they quietly ended <br />
Their voyage. Jumping to the ground, the Geats<br />
Pushed their boat to the sand and tied it.<br />
And then they gave thanks to God for their easy crossing.<br />
High on the wall a Danish watcher <br />
Patrolling along the cliffs saw <br />
The travelers crossing to the shore, their shield raised and shining.<br />
Shaking his heavy spear<br />
In their faces he spoke:<br />
“Whose soldiers are you,<br />
You who’ve been carried in your ship<br />
Across the sea to this country of mine?<br />
None have ever come more openly –<br />
And yet you’ve offered no password, no sign<br />
From my prince, no permission from my people.<br />
You! Tell me your name, <br />
And your father’s. Tell it,<br />
And tell it quickly, the quicker the better.<br />
<br />
Their leader answered him, Beowulf unlocking words from deep in his breast:<br />
“We are Geats, Men who follow Higlaf. My father<br />
Was a famous soldier, known far and wide<br />
As a leader of men. His name was Edgetho. <br />
And we have come seeking your prince, Healfdane’s son, protector of this people. <br />
Our errand is a great one, our business with the glorious king of the Danes no secret. <br />
You know that your country is cursed with some strange, vicious creature. <br />
Perhaps Hrothgar can hunt, here in my heart,<br />
For some way to drive this devil out –<br />
If anything will ever end the evils<br />
Afflicting your wise and famous lord.<br />
Here he can cool his burning sorrow.<br />
<br />
The mounted officer <br />
Answered him bluntly, the brave watchman:<br />
“A soldier should know the difference between words<br />
And deeds, and keep that knowledge clear<br />
In his brain. I believe your words, I trust in <br />
Your friendship. Go forward! <br />
<br />
Then Wulfgar went to the door and addressed <br />
The waiting seafarers with soldier’s words: <br />
“My lord, the great king of the Danes, commands me <br />
To tell you that he knows of your noble birth <br />
And that having come to him from over the open <br />
Sea you have come bravely and are welcome.”<br />
Now go to him as you are, in your armor and helmets, <br />
But leave your battle-shields here, and your spears, <br />
Let them lie waiting for the promises your words <br />
May make.” <br />
Beowulf arose, with his men <br />
Around him, ordering a few to remain <br />
With their weapons, leading the others quickly<br />
Along under Herot’s steep roof into Hrothgar’s <br />
Presence. He greeted the Danes’ great lord: <br />
“Hail, Hrothgar! <br />
Higlac is my cousin and my king; the days <br />
Of my youth have been filled with glory. Now Grendel’s <br />
Name has echoed in our land: Sailors <br />
Have brought us stories of Herot, the best <br />
Of all mead-halls, deserted and useless when the moon <br />
Hangs in skies the sun had lit, <br />
Light and life fleeing together. <br />
My people have said, the wisest, most knowing <br />
And best of them, that my duty was to go to the Danes’ <br />
Great king. They have seen my strength for themselves, <br />
Have watched me rise from the darkness of war, <br />
Dripping with my enemies’ blood. I drove <br />
Five great giants into chains, chased <br />
All of that race from the earth. I swam <br />
In the blackness of night, hunting monsters <br />
Out of the ocean, and killing them one <br />
By one; death was my errand and the fate <br />
They had earned. Now Grendel and I are called <br />
Together, and I’ve come. Grant me, then, <br />
Lord and protector of this noble place, <br />
A single request! I have come so far, <br />
Oh shelterer of warriors and your people’s loved friend, <br />
That this one favor you should not refuse me— <br />
That I, alone and with the help of my men, <br />
May purge all evil from this hall. I have heard, <br />
Too, that the monster’s scorn of men <br />
Is so great that he needs no weapons and fears none. <br />
Nor will I. My hands <br />
Alone shall fight for me, struggle for life <br />
Against the monster. God must decide <br />
Who will be given to death’s cold grip. <br />
Grendel’s plan, I think, will be <br />
What it has been before, to invade this hall <br />
<br />
And gorge his belly with our bodies. If he can, <br />
If he can. And I think, if my time will have come, <br />
There’ll be nothing to mourn over, no corpse to prepare <br />
For its grave: Grendel will carry our bloody <br />
Flesh, and crunch on our bones. No, I expect no Danes <br />
Will fret about sewing our shrouds, if he wins. <br />
And if death does take me, send my armor to Higlac, return <br />
The inheritance I had from Hrethel,° <br />
Hrothgar replied, protector of the Danes: <br />
“Beowulf, you’ve come to us in friendship.<br />
My tongue grows heavy, <br />
And my heart, when I try to tell you what Grendel <br />
Has brought us, the damage he’s done, here <br />
In this hall. Surely the Lord Almighty <br />
Could stop his madness, smother his lust! <br />
How many times have my men, glowing <br />
With courage drawn from too many cups <br />
Of ale, sworn to stay after dark <br />
And stem that horror with a sweep of their swords. <br />
And then, in the morning, this mead-hall glittering <br />
With new light would be drenched with blood, the benches <br />
Stained red, the floors, all wet from that fiend’s <br />
Savage assault—and my soldiers would be fewer <br />
Still, death taking more and more. <br />
But to table, Beowulf, a banquet in your honor: <br />
Let us toast your victories, and talk of the future.” <br />
Then Hrothgar’s men gave places to the Geats, <br />
Yielded benches to the brave visitors, <br />
And led them to the feast. The keeper of the mead <br />
Came carrying out the carved flasks, <br />
And poured that bright sweetness. A poet <br />
Sang, from time to time, in a clear <br />
Pure voice. Danes and visiting Geats <br />
Celebrated as one, drank and rejoicedMr. Ohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05461546985513127889noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7193822987599967950.post-26566329858138415612011-06-30T23:33:00.000-07:002011-06-30T23:33:22.086-07:00Part 2- The Monster GrendelPart 2- The Monster Grendel <br />
<br />
A powerful monster, living down <br />
In the darkness, growled in pain, impatient <br />
As day after day the music rang <br />
Loud in that hall, the harp’s rejoicing <br />
Call and the poet’s clear songs, sung <br />
Of the ancient beginnings of us all, recalling <br />
The Almighty making the earth, shaping <br />
These beautiful plains marked off by oceans, <br />
Then proudly setting the sun and moon<br />
To glow across the land and light it; <br />
The corners of the earth were made lovely with trees <br />
And leaves, made quick with life, with each <br />
Of the nations who now move on its face. <br />
And then As now warriors sang of their pleasure:<br />
So Hrothgar’s men lived happy in his hall<br />
Till the monster stirred, that demon, that fiend, <br />
Grendel, who haunted the moors, the wild <br />
Marshes, and made his home in a hell<br />
Not hell but earth. <br />
Conceived by a pair of those monsters born <br />
Of Cain, murderous creatures banished <br />
By God, punished forever for the crime <br />
Of Abel’s death. The Almighty drove <br />
Those demons out, and their exile was bitter, <br />
Shut away from men; they split <br />
Into a thousand forms of evil—spirits <br />
And fiends, goblins, monsters, giants, <br />
A brood forever opposing the Lord’s <br />
Will, and again and again defeated. <br />
Then, when darkness had dropped, Grendel <br />
Went up to Herot, wondering what the warriors <br />
Would do in that hall when their drinking was done. <br />
He found them sprawled in sleep, suspecting <br />
Nothing, their dreams undisturbed. The monster’s <br />
Thoughts were as quick as his greed or his claws: <br />
He slipped through the door and there in the silence <br />
Snatched up thirty men, smashed them <br />
The blood dripping behind him, back <br />
To his lair, delighted with his night’s slaughter. <br />
At daybreak, with the sun’s first light, they saw <br />
How well he had worked, and in that gray morning <br />
Broke their long feast with tears and laments <br />
For the dead. Hrothgar, their lord, sat joyless <br />
In Herot, a mighty prince mourning <br />
The fate of his lost friends and companions, <br />
Knowing by its tracks that some demon had torn <br />
His followers apart. He wept, fearing <br />
The beginning might not be the end. And that night <br />
Grendel came again, so set <br />
On murder that no crime could ever be enough, <br />
<br />
No savage assault quench his lust <br />
For evil. Then each warrior tried <br />
To escape him, searched for rest in different <br />
Beds, as far from Herot as they could find, <br />
Seeing how Grendel hunted when they slept. <br />
Distance was safety; the only survivors <br />
Were those who fled him. Hate had triumphed. <br />
So Grendel ruled, fought with the righteous, <br />
One against many, and won; so Herot <br />
Stood empty, and stayed deserted for years, <br />
Twelve winters of grief for Hrothgar, king <br />
Of the Danes<br />
His misery leaped <br />
The seas, was told and sung in all <br />
Men’s ears: how Grendel’s hatred began, <br />
How the monster relished his savage war <br />
On the Danes, keeping the bloody feud <br />
Alive, seeking no peace, offering <br />
No truce, accepting no settlement, <br />
Killing as often as he could, coming <br />
Alone, bloodthirsty and horrible. Though he lived <br />
In Herot, when the night hid him, he never <br />
Dared to touch king Hrothgar’s glorious <br />
Throne, protected by God<br />
But Hrothgar’s <br />
Heart was bent. The best and most noble <br />
Of his council debated remedies, sat <br />
In secret sessions, talking of terror <br />
And wondering what the bravest of warriors could do<br />
So the living sorrow of Healfdane’s son <br />
Simmered, bitter and fresh, and no wisdom <br />
Or strength could break it: That agony hung <br />
On king and people alike, harsh <br />
And unending, violent and cruel, and evil. <br />
In his far-off home Beowulf, Higlac’s <br />
Follower and the strongest of the Geats—greater <br />
And stronger than anyone anywhere in this world—<br />
Heard how Grendel filled nights with horror <br />
And quickly commanded a boat fitted out, <br />
Proclaiming that he’d go to that famous king, <br />
Would sail across the sea to Hrothgar, <br />
Now when help was needed. None <br />
Of the wise ones regretted his going, much <br />
As he was loved by the Geats<br />
The omens were good, <br />
And they urged the adventure on. So Beowulf <br />
Chose the mightiest men he could find, <br />
The bravest and best of the Geats, fourteen <br />
In all, and led them down to their boat; <br />
He knew the sea, would point the prow<br />
Straight to that distant Danish shore. . . <br />
<br />
Seatwork #2<br />
<br />
1. Describe Grendal’s lair. How does it compare to Herot?<br />
2. What is the story of Cain and Abel?<br />
3. What is the significance of Grendel being descended from Cain?<br />
4. What does Grendel do in his first attack on Herot?<br />
5. Why does Grendel attack Herot?<br />
6. What extreme measure do some of Hrothgar’s men go to in order to find some power to defeat Grendel?Mr. Ohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05461546985513127889noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7193822987599967950.post-26225973951205016882011-06-12T00:21:00.003-07:002011-06-19T02:38:58.951-07:00Assignment #1 - To be submitted on tuesday, not later than 7:10 Am.Assignment #1 <br />
<br />
DIRECTIONS: Answer all of the questions below. <br />
Use yellow pad and answer IN COMPLETE SENTENCES.<br />
<br />
<br />
1. In your own words, what is the concept and nature of heroism. What acts are usually considered heroic? What characteristics do most heroes have in common? Who are considered real-life heroes?<br />
2. What is an epic? What makes something/someone an epic?<br />
3. Who wrote Beowulf, around what time, and what was the original <br />
document known called?<br />
4. Who is Beowulf? In what part of the world does the story of Beowulf take place?Mr. Ohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05461546985513127889noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7193822987599967950.post-90612687401094939162011-06-12T00:07:00.000-07:002011-06-12T00:16:03.269-07:00First Handout - Juniors SY 2011-2012 (Beowulf)*Some lines and parts were deleted for easy <br />
comprehension<br />
<br />
Prologue<br />
<br />
Hear me! We’ve heard of Danish Heroes,<br />
ancient kings and glory they cut <br />
for themselves, swinging mighty swords!<br />
How Shild* made slaves of soldiers from every<br />
land, crowds of captives he’d beaten <br />
into terror; he’d traveled to Denmark alone,<br />
an abandoned child, but changed his own fate, <br />
lived to be rich and much honored. He ruled<br />
lands on all sides: whatever the sea<br />
would take them his soldiers sailed, returned<br />
with tribute and obedience. There was a brave <br />
King! And he gave them more than his glory, <br />
conceived a son for the Danes, a new leader<br />
allowed them by the grace of God. <br />
Now the Lord of all life, Ruler<br />
of glory, blessed them with a prince, Beo*,<br />
whose power and fame soon spread through the world.<br />
Shild’s strong son was the glory of Denmark;<br />
His father’s warriors were wound round his heart<br />
with golden rings, bound to their prince<br />
by his father’s treasure. <br />
When his time was come the old king died,<br />
still strong but called to the Lord’s hands.<br />
His comrades carried him down to the shore,<br />
Bore him as their leader had asked, their lord<br />
and companion, while words could move on his tongue.<br />
Shild’s reign had been long; he’d ruled them well. <br />
There in the harbor was a ship, its timber icy, waiting,<br />
and there they brought the beloved body<br />
of their ring – giving lord, and laid him near<br />
the mast. Next to that noble corpse <br />
they heaped up treasures, jeweled helmets,<br />
hooked swords, coats and armor <br />
carried from the ends of the earth: no ship<br />
had ever sailed so brightly fitted,<br />
No king sent forth more deeply mourned. <br />
High over his head they flew <br />
his shining banner, then sadly let<br />
the water pull at the ship, watched it <br />
slowly sliding to where neither rulers<br />
nor heroes nor anyone can say into whose hands <br />
opened to take that motionless cargo. <br />
<br />
Part 1<br />
<br />
Then Beo was king in that Danish castle,<br />
Shild’s son ruling as long as his father<br />
and as loved, a famous lord of men.<br />
And he in turn gave his people a son, <br />
the great Healfdane*, a fierce fighter<br />
who led the Danes to the end of his long<br />
life and left them four children,<br />
Three princes to guide them in battle, Hergar* <br />
And Hrothgar* and Halga* the good, and one daughter.<br />
Yrs*, who was given to Onela*, king of the Swedes,<br />
and became his wife and their queen.<br />
Then Hrothgar, taking the throne, led the Danes<br />
to such glory.<br />
And he thought of greatness and resolved to build a hall<br />
that would hold his mighty band and reach higher <br />
toward Heaven than anything that had ever been known to the sons of men. <br />
And in that hall that he’d divide the spoils of their <br />
victories, to old and young what they’d earned<br />
in battle. <br />
The work was ordered, the timbers tied and shaped <br />
by the hosts that Hrothgar ruled. It was quickly <br />
ready, that most beautiful dwellings, built <br />
as he’d wanted, and then he whose word was obeyed<br />
All over the earth named it Herot. <br />
His boast come true he commanded a banquet,<br />
opened out his treasure – full hands.<br />
<br />
Assignment #2 - To be submitted tomorrow not later than 7:10 AM<br />
<br />
1. Who is Shild? Why does the poem begin here, rather than with Hrothgar and Grendel?<br />
2. Describe what is done for Shild after he dies. <br />
3. Describe the relationship (genealogy) between the following: Shild, Beo. Healfdane, Hergar, Hrothgar, Halga the Good, Yrs, and Onela.<br />
4. Describe Herot. <br />
<br />
*Bring magazines and art materials (e.g. colored pens, markers, scissors etc.)Mr. Ohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05461546985513127889noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7193822987599967950.post-21635035978455195442011-02-09T21:32:00.000-08:002011-02-20T23:54:12.517-08:00Speech Writing<b>THE 4 P's - PLAN, PREPARE, PRACTICE AND PRESENT YOUR SPEECH</b><br />
<b>PLANNING YOUR SPEECH</b><br />
<br />
<b>1. THE PURPOSE OF THE SPEECH</b>:<br />
· Decide what you wish to speak about<br />
· Decide what is the primary purpose of the speech.<br />
Do you wish to:<br />
(a) instruct and inform<br />
(b) convince, persuade, influence or motivate, or<br />
(c) amuse and entertain<br />
· What are you trying to achieve<br />
· What are the objectives of your speech<br />
<br />
<b>PREPARING YOUR SPEECH</b><br />
<b>2. THEME:</b><br />
· In one sentence, write down the object of your speech. This sentence will become the<br />
criterion against which all material is be judged whether to be included or not.<br />
· If there are a number of points to be dealt with, establish a theme, a central idea or concept<br />
which gives unity, direction and coherence to the presentation as a whole.<br />
· List the main points to be covered and arrange them in a logical sequence.<br />
Your speech should be structured into 3 distinct parts - Opening, Body and Conclusion<br />
<br />
<b>3. OPENING or INTRODUCTION:</b><br />
<br />
· The introduction is most important as your audience will accept your message in the first 30 -<br />
90 seconds, or they will switch off and ignore the rest of the speech.<br />
· In the introduction you (a) introduce the theme (b) set the scene (c) establish a direction (d)<br />
gain the attention of the audience and get them involved.<br />
· The introduction should be short, positive, easy to handle, generate interest and expectancy<br />
and you must feel comfortable with it. It should create a vivid image and possibly an image<br />
that the audience can identify with.<br />
· DO NOT repeat the title, read the introduction, apologize, explain, complain or make<br />
excuses.<br />
· Ideas for an attention gaining opening:<br />
· Use a question related to audience need.<br />
· Pay a sincere compliment<br />
· Use a quotation. This reinforces your opinion. Remember to state the author.<br />
<br />
<b>4. BODY:</b><br />
<br />
· The body should flow naturally from the introduction and lead the audience to the conclusion<br />
you wish to accept.<br />
· Be sure to stick to your theme.<br />
· DO NOT try to cover too much ground - three or four main points are sufficient.<br />
· Use stories, anecdotes, examples to keep the audience interested.<br />
· Pause after each major point, example or illustration for effect and to allow the audience to<br />
consider your point.<br />
· Remember the audience likes to be entertained as well as informed, convinced or motivated.<br />
Try to include some humour, if appropriate to the topic.<br />
<br />
<b>5. CONCLUSION:</b><br />
<br />
· The conclusion should re-state the essential message. Keep it short and simple<br />
· Memorize the conclusion and the opening.<br />
· Refer back to the points in the introduction to round off the speech. The conclusion should<br />
always link back to the opening.<br />
· DO NOT introduce any new information to round off the speech.<br />
DO NOT just fade off.<br />
· DO NOT thank the audience at the end of the speech.<br />
<br />
<b>PRESENT YOUR SPEECH</b><br />
<br />
Rely on the fundamentals:<br />
· Own your subject<br />
· Feel positive about your speech<br />
Make positive first impression:<br />
· Establish eye contact<br />
· Confident body language<br />
· Be relaxed and well groomed<br />
Build rapport with your audience:<br />
· Be sincere and be yourself<br />
· Say "we" not "you"<br />
· Talk in terms of your audience's interests<br />
· Involve your audience<br />
Hold the attention of the audience:<br />
· Be enthusiastic<br />
· Use vivid words<br />
· Express yourself clearly and concisely<br />
· Have an upbeat voice<br />
Close your presentation to make a favorable and lasting impression.Mr. Ohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05461546985513127889noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7193822987599967950.post-4014316835197907752011-01-30T18:46:00.000-08:002011-01-30T22:59:05.273-08:00Rudyard Kipling<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKMFZnRHNbCHtUKQ5KdAtOXd9mG9telhr5qks5zhWO1CHWNV6OmK9Sm-N9lJGSCxcl5NjATMEnperlJhAQsHBOi3OvBFHA7AGwZnxCxg8druTS4cdS455xWnkz92sogTPqqLVYSScbVvA/s1600/images.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKMFZnRHNbCHtUKQ5KdAtOXd9mG9telhr5qks5zhWO1CHWNV6OmK9Sm-N9lJGSCxcl5NjATMEnperlJhAQsHBOi3OvBFHA7AGwZnxCxg8druTS4cdS455xWnkz92sogTPqqLVYSScbVvA/s1600/images.jpeg" /></a></div><br />
<b>Rudyard Kipling</b> was born in Bombay in India in 1865. The Indian city of Bombay is now called Mumbai. He was born near the end of 1865, on the 30th of December. He lived in India for the first six years of his life. Then his parents sent him to England. He didn’t like England because it was cold and dark. Rudyard dreamed of going back to India.<br />
Rudyard finished his school and travelled back to India when he was 17 years old. He found a job as a reporter working for English language newspapers in India. Rudyard wrote newspaper reports about things which happened in India but he wanted to write stories and poems. He finished his first book of poems, <i>Departmental Ditties</i>, in 1886 when he was 21 years old.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYjN7BUq4eEkHHrUmetViTwvVxZrhDQG_CGONhSkPCRa_Kxat2oIIwQVRvqayKkngxtXjTCe602Yt3vE2TXiFAUQruFyq8bXj3yp034dmmcw5yHYTOBVxljmzMj3kxCkxnEXSDn1NZjnc/s1600/2.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYjN7BUq4eEkHHrUmetViTwvVxZrhDQG_CGONhSkPCRa_Kxat2oIIwQVRvqayKkngxtXjTCe602Yt3vE2TXiFAUQruFyq8bXj3yp034dmmcw5yHYTOBVxljmzMj3kxCkxnEXSDn1NZjnc/s1600/2.jpeg" /></a></div> He started to write short stories for the newspaper and soon his stories were very popular. Lots of people liked to read his stories and Rudyard Kipling became famous in India. A lot of his stories were about the lives of soldiers and their families in India.<br />
Rudyard Kipling also liked to write stories for children. In 1894, he wrote<b><i> The Jungle Book. </i></b><br />
<div style="text-align: left;"></div><b><i> </i></b><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAa7TLEkY3fm32Uuqw89kuit8fr6N8D8161nUPQ2w7ZcVW5EDMv9PFKSag2KxJLPEQE8DHD8pTaZuD6rOg4WRkEXbWEtapNenf9bVYtRO3g0JJvGQ26DX7QQORbE4ErPR5Gt5OWyf2ev8/s1600/s.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAa7TLEkY3fm32Uuqw89kuit8fr6N8D8161nUPQ2w7ZcVW5EDMv9PFKSag2KxJLPEQE8DHD8pTaZuD6rOg4WRkEXbWEtapNenf9bVYtRO3g0JJvGQ26DX7QQORbE4ErPR5Gt5OWyf2ev8/s200/s.jpeg" width="160" /></a></div><br />
<br />
<br />
Rudyard Kipling wrote many more stories for children such as <i>How the leopard got his spots and How the camel got his hump</i>. He called these Just So Stories and they are popular with children all over the world.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnS2JM3V6k3yuiRxkY2drmK7pmwZ5vJMpJzts545TBzGecQoCi-SVXpkmUuxuPEDupXRyBViXNQ7HmKF4DveFFb4t4x7GcG5eUEbm0gYy2Y_T1mohHR0B6z8_OhuGgKoN9ZJugE63v9Cs/s1600/kkkk.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="387" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnS2JM3V6k3yuiRxkY2drmK7pmwZ5vJMpJzts545TBzGecQoCi-SVXpkmUuxuPEDupXRyBViXNQ7HmKF4DveFFb4t4x7GcG5eUEbm0gYy2Y_T1mohHR0B6z8_OhuGgKoN9ZJugE63v9Cs/s640/kkkk.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br />
Take Home Quiz - To be submitted on Feb. 2, 2011 - Wednesday.<br />
<u> </u><br />
<u>Vocabulary</u> - In one or two words define the following terms from the poem.</div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">1: doubt, allowance<br />
2: triumph, imposters, disaster, knaves<br />
3: pitch-and-toss, sinew<br />
4: virtue, foes<br />
<br />
</div><br />
<u style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Word Pictures</u><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"> - Word pictures is another way of saying imagery. Imagery or figurative language</span><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"> helps us form a picture of what the author is trying to present. Explain what these word pictures mean. </span><br />
<u><br />
</u><br />
<div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">1: keep your head, wait and not be tired of waiting<br />
2: triumph and disaster, trap for fools, worn out tools<br />
3: never breathe a word about your loss, nerve and sinew, hold on<br />
4: walk with kings, nor lose the common touch, unforgiving minute</div><u><br />
</u><br />
<div style="text-align: left;"><u>Comprehension Questions</u>:</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; font-size: small;">1. Who is the speaker?<br />
2. What does the poem reveal about the speaker’s character?<br />
3. Is the speaker addressing someone in particular or is it to anyone?<br />
4. Does the poem have a setting?<br />
5. Is the poem about a particular event? Is the event past or present? If it is about a past event, does the<br />
remembrance of the event have a particular meaning to the speaker?<br />
6. Is the theme of the poem stated directly or indirectly? Why?</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; font-size: small;">7. What point of view or perspective is the speaker?<br />
8. How did you respond to the poem when you read it the first time? </span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
Want to read more? <a href="http://www.awakeningtheself.com/PDF/The%20poem%20-%20if.doc.pdf">Rudyard Kipling - If</a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><br />
<div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div>Mr. Ohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05461546985513127889noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7193822987599967950.post-31118607431429050272011-01-27T17:53:00.001-08:002011-01-27T17:53:31.157-08:00The Art of Teaching<div style="width:425px" id="__ss_7845"><strong style="display:block;margin:12px 0 4px"><a href="http://www.slideshare.net/tarannau20/the-art-of-teaching" title="The Art of Teaching">The Art of Teaching</a></strong><object id="__sse7845" width="425" height="355"><param name="movie" value="http://static.slidesharecdn.com/swf/ssplayer2.swf?doc=the-art-of-teaching-2554&stripped_title=the-art-of-teaching&userName=tarannau20" /><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"/><param name="allowScriptAccess" value="always"/><embed name="__sse7845" src="http://static.slidesharecdn.com/swf/ssplayer2.swf?doc=the-art-of-teaching-2554&stripped_title=the-art-of-teaching&userName=tarannau20" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="355"></embed></object><div style="padding:5px 0 12px">View more <a href="http://www.slideshare.net/">presentations</a> from <a href="http://www.slideshare.net/tarannau20">tarannau20</a>.</div></div>Mr. Ohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05461546985513127889noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7193822987599967950.post-269916043833433042011-01-27T00:01:00.000-08:002011-01-27T17:48:56.310-08:00Independent Learning - Introduction<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGoj5zR8i1J889fuetL6SERC7oplVC_mTpthseRSkoBiIMHMQqUdNY1gB_pH3-cztxE7xwYxRo_RLAn4ynzeYe_TcqTFqm5pLDIuGZW0VPABQogXa9X_oA4kRAQ70XCnRUPKloVBgrQu0/s1600/72217_1519452500073_1047340164_31210707_6210541_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGoj5zR8i1J889fuetL6SERC7oplVC_mTpthseRSkoBiIMHMQqUdNY1gB_pH3-cztxE7xwYxRo_RLAn4ynzeYe_TcqTFqm5pLDIuGZW0VPABQogXa9X_oA4kRAQ70XCnRUPKloVBgrQu0/s320/72217_1519452500073_1047340164_31210707_6210541_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><b style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">Dear Students,</b></span><br />
<h1 style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"> </span><span style="font-size: small;">Welcome to a different learning approach! As we get closer to the end of this school year, I'd like to get you ready to a different challenge -<i> Independent learning</i>. Independent learning is a process, a method and a philosophy of education whereby a learner acquires knowledge by his or her own efforts and develops the ability for critical evaluation. College professors apply this approach. So better get yourself prepared. </span></h1><h1 style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">At the end of the school year, you should be able to:</span> </h1><ul><li style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Think and act autonomously</span></li>
<li style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Apply the ability to realistically appraise own shortcomings as a learner</span></li>
<li style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Apply approaches to self-management as a learner</span></li>
</ul><h2><span style="font-size: small;">Gains for the learner</span></h2><ul><li>Ability to respond to change</li>
<li>Transferable skills</li>
<li>Different learning styles - learner can use own judgment about how best to learn</li>
<li>Self-direction is motivating and leads to higher order thinking</li>
<li>The excitement and pleasure of independent learning will carry over to the subject itself</li>
<li>Mirrors ‘natural’ learning in the rest of life</li>
</ul><br />
<h2><span style="font-size: small;">Students and autonomous learning:</span></h2><ul><li>Set their own learning aims</li>
<li>Make choices over learning modes</li>
<li>Plan and organise work</li>
<li>Decide when best to work alone, work collaboratively and when to seek advice</li>
<li>Learn through experience</li>
<li>Think creatively</li>
<li>Communicate effectively orally and in writing</li>
<li>Assess their own progress in respect of their aims</li>
</ul><br />
<br />
I will be posting all lectures here. However, it wont excuse you for taking down notes, researching /using other sources. Please leave a comment or message in the shout box for confirmation. Always use your real name. <br />
<ul></ul><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_xOwI48jwKdnUp_s_f8FN94a74uQ4bbM_sTW3pk-Gd4MBboVBoBjiJbzKCYX4jZIDzSfaakBna2YvyfxgcsFPam5i7zYNurVD-4UP-9WtdAR8Mj4-wrCxZ1S_zrB_iEr01izhHy7nx88/s1600/wordlebgteacher.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="263" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_xOwI48jwKdnUp_s_f8FN94a74uQ4bbM_sTW3pk-Gd4MBboVBoBjiJbzKCYX4jZIDzSfaakBna2YvyfxgcsFPam5i7zYNurVD-4UP-9WtdAR8Mj4-wrCxZ1S_zrB_iEr01izhHy7nx88/s400/wordlebgteacher.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br />
<ul></ul>Mr. Ohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05461546985513127889noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7193822987599967950.post-65667246635825286132011-01-26T18:17:00.001-08:002011-01-26T18:17:41.371-08:00TestTestMr. Ohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05461546985513127889noreply@blogger.com0