Author's Purpose

Descriptive Language

Instructions: Find examples of descriptive language in the following text

The Sun Will Come Out Tomorrow, Maybe

            After years in Texas, I experienced my first winter in the Midwest. I did not like it right away. In Texas, the heat presses down on you like a hot iron, but you get used to it. You learn that the heat can be tricky like a fox. It sneaks up on you even in January, then it disappears behind a blank gray sky that dribbles rain. After three days, it’s spring again. When summer comes in March, you toss off your jacket, slip on your sandals, and eat smoky barbecue and drink lemonade until December.

            The Midwest winter lasts and lasts. Sometimes the sun does not come out for weeks. Blankets of snow snuggle up to your front door and stay there like a stray cat. Every trip outside is an expedition. You need boots, two pairs of socks, a sweater, a coat, a scarf, a hat, and gloves. Outside, it takes forever to get anywhere on foot. You must walk carefully on slippery sidewalks. The cars with their rugged snow tires buzz by and spray you with dirty slush. The air smells like cold metal. You glance at the sky and wonder how long this can last. The answer is—a long time.

Implied Main Idea

Instructions: Complete the graphic organizer to determine the implied main idea

“The Sounds of Silence” 

City dwellers who are accustomed to loud noises hear only silence at first when they go to the country. Then, slowly, away from the steady roar of background noise, they begin to hear the series of sounds that signal the times of day on a farm.

Greeting the Morning

The rooster proclaims the day’s arrival. As the sky gradually lightens, chickens cluck and pigs grunt for breakfast. Cows moo anxiously, waiting to be milked. Inside the farmhouse, family members talk quietly while they eat. Then they push their chairs back from the table with a scrape and hurry off to start their chores.

The Day’s Work

As the day progresses, tractors grumble across the fields and workers shout orders and questions to one another. Hammers tap nails sharply and saws wheeze as farmhands repair the hayloft. Birds sing arias among the trees and call to each other as they take wing across the fields.

Evening Falls

As dark falls, a barn owl hoots and flaps its wings. On the screened porch, the murmur of conversation is punctuated by low laughter. Nature’s orchestra takes center stage: tree frogs chortle, toads croak, and crickets fill in the gap with a constant background chirp of legs rubbing together. Tree branches creak and moan, and leaves rustle in the wind. Water in the stream bubbles and babbles over rocks and logs. Afarm dog howls at the moon.

Cause and Effect

Analyze the cause and effect paragraph about cities becoming larger

Paragraph: In recent decades, cities have grown so large that now about 50% of the Earth's population lives in urban areas. There are several reasons for this occurrence. First, the increasing industrialization of the nineteenth century resulted in the creation of many factory jobs, which tended to be located in cities. These jobs, with their promise of a better material life, attracted many people from rural areas. Second, there were many schools established to educate the children of the new factory laborers. The promise of a better education persuaded many families to leave farming communities and move to the cities. Finally, as the cities grew, people established places of leisure, entertainment, and culture, such as sports stadiums, theaters, and museums. For many people, these facilities made city life appear more interesting than life on the farm, and therefore drew them away from rural communities.

Summarize the following text

Picture this: a herd of elephants flies past you at sixty miles per hour, followed by a streak of tigers, a pride of lions, and a bunch of clowns. What do you see? It must be a circus train! One of the first uses of the circus train is credited to W.C. Coup. He partnered with P.T. Barnum in 1871 to expand the reach of their newly combined shows using locomotives. Before circus trains, these operators had to lug around all of their animals, performers, and equipment with a team of more than 600 horses. Since there were no highways, these voyages were rough and took a long time. Circuses would stop at many small towns between the large venues. Performing at many of these small towns was not very profitable. Because of these limitations, circuses could not grow as large as the imaginations of the operators. After they began using circus trains, Barnum and Coup only brought their show to large cities. These performances were much more profitable and the profits went toward creating an even bigger and better circus. Multiple rings were added and the show went on. Today, Ringling Bros. and Barnum and Bailey Circus still rely on the circus train to transport their astounding show, but now they use two.

The Highwayman

BY ALFRED NOYES

PART ONE

The wind was a torrent of darkness among the gusty trees.   

The moon was a ghostly galleon tossed upon cloudy seas.   

The road was a ribbon of moonlight over the purple moor,   

And the highwayman came riding—

         Riding—riding—

The highwayman came riding, up to the old inn-door.

He’d a French cocked-hat on his forehead, a bunch of lace at his chin,   

A coat of the claret velvet, and breeches of brown doe-skin.

They fitted with never a wrinkle. His boots were up to the thigh.   

And he rode with a jewelled twinkle,

         His pistol butts a-twinkle,

His rapier hilt a-twinkle, under the jewelled sky.

Over the cobbles he clattered and clashed in the dark inn-yard.

He tapped with his whip on the shutters, but all was locked and barred.   

He whistled a tune to the window, and who should be waiting there   

But the landlord’s black-eyed daughter,

         Bess, the landlord’s daughter,

Plaiting a dark red love-knot into her long black hair.

And dark in the dark old inn-yard a stable-wicket creaked

Where Tim the ostler listened. His face was white and peaked.   

His eyes were hollows of madness, his hair like mouldy hay,   

But he loved the landlord’s daughter,

         The landlord’s red-lipped daughter.

Dumb as a dog he listened, and he heard the robber say—

“One kiss, my bonny sweetheart, I’m after a prize to-night,

But I shall be back with the yellow gold before the morning light;

Yet, if they press me sharply, and harry me through the day,   

Then look for me by moonlight,

         Watch for me by moonlight,

I’ll come to thee by moonlight, though hell should bar the way.”

He rose upright in the stirrups. He scarce could reach her hand,

But she loosened her hair in the casement. His face burnt like a brand

As the black cascade of perfume came tumbling over his breast;   

And he kissed its waves in the moonlight,

         (O, sweet black waves in the moonlight!)

Then he tugged at his rein in the moonlight, and galloped away to the west.

PART TWO

He did not come in the dawning. He did not come at noon;   

And out of the tawny sunset, before the rise of the moon,   

When the road was a gypsy’s ribbon, looping the purple moor,   

A red-coat troop came marching—

         Marching—marching—

King George’s men came marching, up to the old inn-door.

They said no word to the landlord. They drank his ale instead.   

But they gagged his daughter, and bound her, to the foot of her narrow bed.

Two of them knelt at her casement, with muskets at their side!   

There was death at every window;

         And hell at one dark window;

For Bess could see, through her casement, the road that he would ride.

They had tied her up to attention, with many a sniggering jest.

They had bound a musket beside her, with the muzzle beneath her breast!

“Now, keep good watch!” and they kissed her. She heard the doomed man say—

Look for me by moonlight;

         Watch for me by moonlight;

I’ll come to thee by moonlight, though hell should bar the way!

She twisted her hands behind her; but all the knots held good!

She writhed her hands till her fingers were wet with sweat or blood!   

They stretched and strained in the darkness, and the hours crawled by like years

Till, now, on the stroke of midnight,

         Cold, on the stroke of midnight,

The tip of one finger touched it! The trigger at least was hers!

The tip of one finger touched it. She strove no more for the rest.   

Up, she stood up to attention, with the muzzle beneath her breast.   

She would not risk their hearing; she would not strive again;   

For the road lay bare in the moonlight;

         Blank and bare in the moonlight;

And the blood of her veins, in the moonlight, throbbed to her love’s refrain.

Tlot-tlot; tlot-tlot! Had they heard it? The horsehoofs ringing clear;   

Tlot-tlot; tlot-tlot, in the distance? Were they deaf that they did not hear?

Down the ribbon of moonlight, over the brow of the hill,

The highwayman came riding—

         Riding—riding—

The red coats looked to their priming! She stood up, straight and still.

Tlot-tlot, in the frosty silence! Tlot-tlot, in the echoing night!   

Nearer he came and nearer. Her face was like a light.

Her eyes grew wide for a moment; she drew one last deep breath,   

Then her finger moved in the moonlight,

         Her musket shattered the moonlight,

Shattered her breast in the moonlight and warned him—with her death.

He turned. He spurred to the west; he did not know who stood   

Bowed, with her head o’er the musket, drenched with her own blood!   

Not till the dawn he heard it, and his face grew grey to hear   

How Bess, the landlord’s daughter,

         The landlord’s black-eyed daughter,

Had watched for her love in the moonlight, and died in the darkness there.

Back, he spurred like a madman, shrieking a curse to the sky,

With the white road smoking behind him and his rapier brandished high.

Blood red were his spurs in the golden noon; wine-red was his velvet coat;

When they shot him down on the highway,

         Down like a dog on the highway,

And he lay in his blood on the highway, with a bunch of lace at his throat.

.       .       .

And still of a winter’s night, they say, when the wind is in the trees,

When the moon is a ghostly galleon tossed upon cloudy seas,   

When the road is a ribbon of moonlight over the purple moor,   

A highwayman comes riding—

         Riding—riding—

A highwayman comes riding, up to the old inn-door.

Over the cobbles he clatters and clangs in the dark inn-yard.

He taps with his whip on the shutters, but all is locked and barred.   

He whistles a tune to the window, and who should be waiting there   

But the landlord’s black-eyed daughter,

         Bess, the landlord’s daughter,

Plaiting a dark red love-knot into her long black hair.

paragraph 3: People who are obese are likely to develop type II, non-insulin dependent diabetes.    In fact, 90% of obese people develop this disease.  Seventy percent of obese people will develop heart disease, and 33% will develop hypertension.  Colon and breast cancers are also linked to obesity.