It looks as if I would never be 19 страница

2.3. True of false?

1. Having a bogle in the house was a mark of good standing in St. Andrews.

2. All the privileged families rented their bogles freely.

3. The family in question went out of their way to get a bogle in the house.

4. In fact, they didn't qualify for becoming bogle-keepers.

5. The bogles of St. Andrews were full of Scottish spirit, so to say.

6. Walking graveyards at night provides a good chance of meet­ing a bogle.

7. The newly-obtained bogle was a master bagpipe player.

2.4. POINTS OF VIEW. What did they mean by saying so?

1. "I'll never show my face outside the house until papa gets a bogle for me!"

2. "Thank you kindly, but I'll bide here with my own folks."

3. "Could they not make do without you just for a month or two?"

4. "Thename has not even a Mac at the front of it..."

5. "They are all awake already and about their business."

6. "St. Andrews' folk will pay us no heed..."

7. "So I accept your invitation and thank ye kindly."

2.5. Storing vocabulary.

"Fill in the gaps with appropriate words from the list below.

1. Her friend's tragic death reminded her that she herself was... too.

2. They went for a... in the park for an hour or so.

3. Even a short holiday brings..., doesn't it?

4. They offered help but we proudly... it.

5. The... sound of a night bird scared the visitors out of their wits.

6. I couldn't sleep on the plane, it was too... for me.

7. I wish those people upstairs would stop... after all.

Choose from: stroll, cramped, eerie, make a racket, mortal, decline, change of scene.

2.6. COLLOQUAL SCOTTISH.

The language of the story is clearly Scottish-coloured. Render the following in Queen's English.

"I'll bide here wi' my own folks. So dinna expect me."

"Och, then ye'll wake all the folks in St. Andrews..."

"Well, I'd not be liking to hurt your feelings but..."

"Aye, I can see that fine."

"Och nay! St. Andrews folk will pay us no heed..."

"Tis not anywhere a hundred years old."

"You might be liking to visit elsewhere, maybe?"

2.7. Scottish idioms.

Guess the meaning of the expressions created years ago on the British Isles.

1. A Scotch mist is...

A. a type of weather with thick fog and drizzling rain.

B. fog hanging over hills and mountains of Scotland.

2. A Scotch answer is...

A. a straightforward reply.

B. a reply in the form of a question.

3. Scottish blackface is...

A. a masked Highlander.

B. a breed of sheep.

4. Scots and English is...

A. a talk show on political issues.

B. a children's game of competition between two teams.

5. Flying Scotsman is...

A. Scottish Batman.

B. Edinburgh — London express train.

6. A Scottish breakfast is...

A. a morning meal of traditional dishes.

B. a breakfast of many dishes, one of them oatmeal porridge.

III. POST-READING

3.1. Feelings.

Bogles, or simply ghosts, seem to have a lot of spirit in them. They are sad, and merry, and lonely, and excited sometimes. Describe the feelings of the bagpipe-playing bogle who found a home at last.

3.2. Roleplay.

Dramatize vari­ous episodes of the story in which the members of the family tried to de­fend their right to have a decent bogle in their house.

3.3. Visiting Scotland.

On your left, you can see a house that still stands in a quiet street in St. Andrews, Scotland. It seems to be a perfect place for bogle dwellers, doesn't it? Describe it as if you were the owner of the house her/himself. Be proud of your family history, just like a real Mac, you know.

3.3. Project work: bagpipes.

Study the information below and find more facts about the 'five-legged beastie'. Present your findings in class.

A bagpipe band in traditional kilts, playing the national instrument of Scotland, is a familiar sight. The bagpipe is indeed an old instrument whose great-granddaddy was probably a simple reed whistle.

In the sixteenth century, King Henry VIII of England both played and composed pipe music. He had five sets of pipes in his collection of 380 musical instruments. Later piping declined everywhere except in Scotland, where the bagpipes were used to communicate over the hills, vales, and rivers.

In 1707 Scotland, Wales, and England were united into one kingdom-a union that did not please everyone. In order to control the wild, unruly Scots, the government of Great Britain banned pipes, along with kilts, the Gaelic language, and firearms.

This practice was stopped eighty years later, and with the forming of Scottish regiments, bagpipe music returned. The British army brought bagpipes to countries where they had never been before.

The Great Highland Pipes of Scotland consist of a leather or canvas bag with five wooden pipes sticking out, giving the appearance of a "five-legged beastie". The pipes, made of African blackwood, include a blowpipe for inflating the bag, an eight-holed chanter for playing melody, and three drones, each of which produces a single note when air is squeezed through it.

The classical music of Scotland is called Piobeareachd, meaning "big music". It is generally slow and sad. The new music, written within the last 150 years, is band music. It is divided into jigs, and competition music, as well as marches and dances.

SOME LIGHT ON THE PROBLEM

I. PRE-READING

1.1. SHARE the most frightening experience you've ever had in your life, be it your childhood years or your school days.

1.2. SAY if fear is something that is always there. Are you always able to explain why this or that scares you?

1.3. PROVE that it's absolutely necessary to master the ways of keeping your fears in check. At what age should one begin?

II. READING

2.1. Understanding the title.

Do you see any double meaning in the title of the story written by David Hill? Try to do that together with your group mates.

2.2. Reading for pleasure and enrichment.

Read the story and answer the question: Why did the boy's be­haviour change in the end? The following words will be useful for better understanding of the events.

Grotty — nasty and dirty

Jerk — to move in short sudden movements

Wriggle — to twist from side to side with small quick movements

Sniff — to breathe air into your nose noisily

Glossy — shiny and smooth

When I was about ten, Mum and I lived in a house beside the main road. It was a grotty old place. It had tiny windows, and the rooms were dark most of the time. The roof leaked when it rained, and we had to put a bowl in the middle of the kitchen floor to catch the drips. We lived mostly in the din­ing room and the big back bedroom. We hardly used the front rooms at all.

Mum worked in the school office on the other side of town where we used to live. She only worked in the mornings, because she wanted to be home when I got back from school in the af­ternoons. Mum got a lift to her school with one of the teachers, Mr. O'Rourke. He picked her up at the corner at eight o'clock. Ev­ery morning she left home as late as she could so that I wouldn't be by myself for long.

We made a game out of it. Mum stood by the back door with her bag and her jacket, and we both watched the clock's second hand jerk round. I'd count the last few seconds out loud: ''Five, four, three, two, one, zero!"

Mum would yell, "Blast off! Bye, love!" Then she'd rush out the back door, lock it behind her, and race off round the side of the house. I don't think Mr. O'Rourke minded waiting — he liked Mum. But she always made sure she was on time.

After she left, I'd dry the breakfast dishes and read a book till it was a quarter past eight and time to go to school. I was supposed to go out the front door and close it behind me so that it locked itself. To reach the front door, I had to go along the front hall. And I was scared stiff of the front hall.

It was just a little short hallway, but it was dark. There weren't any windows in it, and the front door only had four little squares of red glass that made weird colors on the hall walls. The wallpaper had a pattern of wriggly green lines, like snakes. There were two doors into the front rooms that we hardly ever used. The doors were always half-open, and the rooms behind them were dark. Every time I opened the dining room door at a quarter past eight and stared down the hall, the whole house seemed to go still as if something were listening to me. I'd feel so frightened that my back would start prickling. What was I frightened of? Oh, all sorts of silly imaginary things. I was frightened that the green lines on the wallpaper would start to wriggle like real snakes when I went past. I was frightened that some­thing would be waiting in one of the front rooms and jump out at me. I was even frightened of the hall carpet. It was old and brown and went along the middle of the hall. There were black wooden boards on either side of it. I was scared that the boards would be missing under the carpet, and when I stepped on it, I would fall into a terrible, deep hole.

At a quarter past eight every morning when I had to leave for school, I would open the dining room door as quietly as I could so that no one would know I was coming. It was just six steps to the front door; I'd count them as 1 tiptoed. I wouldn't look at the wallpaper in case it started to move, and I held my fists squeezed tight. When I got to the door, I'd open it without making a sound. Then I'd rush out, slam the door behind me, and tear off down the path.

Why didn't I tell Mum I was frightened? I don't know. Maybe I thought she'd laugh at me. Maybe 1 was scared that telling someone would make the things I was frightened of really happen. Maybe I thought that if I didn't say anything, it might all go away.

It didn't. I got more and more scared. I asked Mum if I could leave home when she did, but she said no, eight o'clock was too early for me to be at school all by myself.

One morning Mum went rushing off to meet Mr. O'Rourke the way she usually did. I dried the dishes and tried to read my book. But I was so frightened that I couldn't even understand the words.

I started talking loudly to myself. "I'm off to school now, Nick. You keep the place tidy."

Then I said, "Yeah, right," in the deepest voice I could, to make it sound as if I had an older friend there with me.

I opened the dining room door into the dark hallway. I could hear my heart banging. I just knew that today something was going to open one of those hall doors and jump out at me. Suddenly, a door did fly open. Someone did come jumping through it. It was the back door, and it was Mum, all pink-faced and noisy.

"I'd forget my head if it wasn't glued on!" she was saying. "I've left my office keys behind. Mr. O'Rourke had to drive me all the way back. Why, love, whatever's the matter?" With the shock of her rushing in so suddenly like that, and then feeling so glad because it was her, I'd burst out crying. And now I couldn't stop. Mum put her arms around me and hugged me. She made me sit down on the sofa and tell her what the matter was. I told her everything — all about the hall and the wallpaper and the carpet and the front rooms and what I was scared might be there. It took ages, in between crying and then sniffing. I can't imagine what Mr. O'Rourke was thinking out in his car!

Mum kept hugging me till I was finished. Then she gave me her hanky to blow my nose and she smiled at me.

"You are a silly old frog," she said. "Keeping it all to yourself like that! If you tell someone when you're scared, it always makes things better."

She stood up.

"Now," she said, "I've got a bright idea. Let's have a little light on the problem."

We went into the hall. Just on the other side of the dining room door there was a light switch. Mum pressed it down. And straight­away the front hall wasn't a dark scary place any longer. It was ordinary. The wriggly snakes on the wallpaper were just green lines. The doors into the two front rooms needed a coat of paint. The black boards on the floor were glossy in the sudden yellow light.

"There!" said Mum. "I'll turn the hall light on every morning before I go to work. We'll leave it on till I come back in the afternoon. It'll make the place look bright and cheerful. It'll stop any burglars, too — they'll think there's someone home. O.K., love?"

"O.K., Mum," I said; after a couple more sniffs.

And it was as simple as that. From then on, the front hall was just another part of the house, and I was never scared of going into it again. In fact, after I told Mum, and after her bright idea of turn­ing the light on, I suppose you could say that the front hall made me feel quite... light-hearted.

2.3. True of false?

The boy always left for school together with his mother.

Mother gave her son a lift to school. While in the front hall the boy imagined all sorts of scary things.

He discussed his fears with his friends and felt much better.

One day the boy grew out of his fear and was able to laugh at himself.

The family had to move as the boy's fear grew from bad to worse.

Mother's solution was as simple as it was wise.

2.4. Verbs in focus.

Match the verbs with their definitions. Translate the sentences below using the newly defined verbs.

	burst out	A	collect someone who is waiting for you
	blast off	B	move quickly especially in a dangerous way
	pick up	C	suddenly start crying, laughing, etc.
	rush out	D	leave a place
	tear off	E	leave in a hurry
	be off	F	move very quickly, especially if you're late

1. The child didn't stop at the curb but... across the road.

2. The girl was waiting for her boyfriend... but he never turned up.

3. The teacher... the classroom angrily.

4. Learning the test results the girl... crying.

5. The rocket... the ground.

6. We have little time left, it's about time we....

2.5. More light on English.

Make sure you can see the light when giving correct written definitions to the following expressions. Light-heartedly, describe select episodes of the story using these expressions.

	come to light
	bring to light
	throw light on
	be out like a light
	stand in someone's light
	put out somebody's light
	give someone the green light

2.6. Storing vocabulary.

Fill in the gaps using the words given below.

1. Mike's got a really... sense of humour.

2. Don't you... at me like that! I've done nothing wrong.

3. Jane lay on the floor trembling and.... She was too fright­ened to move.

4. I missed my bus today but was lucky from one of my colleagues.

5. He... across the hall and followed her into the kitchen.

6.... climbed into the house through a window carelessly left open.

Choose from: get / give a lift, be scared stiff, weird, tiptoe, burglar, yell.

2.7. Grammar in focus.

Remember various small episodes of the story when the charac­ters made themselves do something — unwillingly, perhaps.

e.g. Every morning Nick made himself go through the back door. As for mother, she never made Mr O'Rourke...

III. POST-READING

3.1. Feelings.

What is your opinion about the boy's situation? Do you con­sider the boy's feelings to be: (a) much exaggerated; (b) ab­solutely groundless; (c) simply neurotic? Or, simply, he was just a bit lonely? Please, explain.

3.2. Test of courage.

Imagine yourself a very young child who is faced with a challenging situation s/he should cope with on his/her own. Describe your ways of conquering your fears.

3.3. Poetry corner.

Read a very fascinating poem written by Karla Kuskin and decide whether it's always possible to follow the author's advice — especially right in the middle of the night.

3.4. Teachers' club.

Share your ideas on ways of making classroom learning less stressful and more fear-free, and how to make school feel like home. Use personal experi­ences — light-heartedly.

THE MIDDLE OF THE NIGHT

This is the song to be sung at night

When nothing is left of you and the light

When the cats don't bark

And the mice don't moo

And the nightmares come and nuzzle you

When there's blackness in the cupboards

And the closet and the hall

And a tipping, tapping, rapping

In the middle of the wall

When the lights have one by one gone out

All over everywhere

And a shadow by the curtains

Bumps a shadow by the chair

Then you hide beneath your pillow

With your eyes shut very tight

And you sing

'"There's nothing sweeter than

The middle of the night.

I'm extremely fond of shadows

And I really must confess

That cats and bats don't scare me.

Well, they couldn't scare me less

And most of all I like the things

That slide and slip and creep."

It is really surprising

How fast you fall asleep.

THE CHAMELEON CLOTH

I. PRE-READING

1.1. SHARE your recollections of a most favorite game you used to play indoors when you were very young (or somewhat older).

1.2. ARGUE if it is commonly easy to describe the character of a person after you have seen the interior of his/her bedroom. Do you think that the colour of wall paper speaks volumes to an attentive observer?

1.3. SHARE your hardly-ever-to-be-fulfilled dream about furnishing or decorating a room of your own.

II. READING

2.1. Understanding the title.

The title of the story written by Annette L. Couch-Jareb sounds quite mysterious, does it not? Which clue does the word "chame­leon" give?

2.2. Reading for pleasure and enrichment.

Read the story to the end and answer the question: Was it only the cloth that saved Mrs Freeman the scientist? The following words will be useful for better understanding of the events.

Tickle — to rub someone's body with your fingers in order to make them laugh

Topple — to make something fall

Furnace — a large container in which a very hot fire is made

Slither — to slide smoothly across the surface, moving snake-like

Clamber — to climb slowly, using your hands and feet

Beaker — a glass cup with straight sides used for measuring and heating liquids

Wrench — to twist and pull

"Ready or not, here I come," called Morgan Faye Freeman, Xvstomping down the basement stairs. It wouldn't take long to find her friend. Alicia couldn't keep quiet while playing hide-and-seek.

"Tee-hee-hee."

Morgan whirled around. "I heard you."

Another giggle came from across the basement. "Aha!" Morgan dove onto a pile of unwashed laundry, smashing Alicia beneath. Alicia squealed while Morgan tickled her relentlessly. That was the penalty for being caught.

"Girls, what are you doing?" Morgan's mother called from the top of the stairs. "You're not playing in my laboratory, are you?"

Mrs. Freeman, a chemist, had taken a break from her work. The lab door, usually locked, was wide open.

"Just playing hide-and-seek," Morgan answered. Upstairs, the doorbell rang.

"Last one to the door is a rotten school lunch," Morgan shouted, leap­ing to her feet. But Alicia pulled her back down and began tickling her.

"No fair!" Morgan protested, giggling.

Something thumped on the floor upstairs, and Morgan felt Alicia hadn't heard the noise and kept tickling.

"Hey, wait a minute," Morgan said. "I heard something."

Alicia paused long enough to hear silence, then resumed giggling. After another thump on the floor, both girls fell silent.

"Mom?" Morgan called and waited for her mother to answer, but no answer came. Morgan crawled out of the laundry and edged closer to the stairs. "Mom? Is that you?"

No answer. Without waiting to call again, Morgan sprinted the stairs. Alicia followed her.

"Tie her up," a voice barked. Alicia and Morgan stopped on top landing. "Mrs. Freeman, we know what you've been doing on and we will have it. Now, tell us where the fabric sample is."

Morgan's eyes widened. She pushed the door open a crack and peered into the living room. Mrs. Freeman was seated in an arm­chair, her hands tied in front of her. A woman wearing a trench coat paced the floor in front of Mrs. Freeman, and a man stood near the chair.

"Who are you people?" Mrs. Freeman demanded. "I will ask the questions," the woman snapped. "Where is the fabric sample?"

Morgan stepped backward, bumping into Alicia and nearly toppling them both. Silently, they turned around and crept back downstairs. In the basement, Alicia started crying. "Morgan, what're we going to do?"

Taking Alicia's hand, Morgan pulled her behind the furnace. High on the basement wall was a small window spattered with dried mud.

"Look," Morgan whispered. "If we can get this window open, I'll give you a boost to get out. You run to your house and call the police."

"What about you, Morgan?" Morgan was already fumbling with the latch. "I'm better at hiding than you are. I'll stay hidden down here until the police arrive."

The latch gave, and the rusty window creaked open, but only wide enough for someone of Alicia's size to slip through. Morgan braced her shoulder against the wall and clasped her hands over her knee. Alicia put one foot in Morgan's palms and one hand on the window ledge.

"Ready? One, two, three." Alicia jumped, pulled her waist up to the ledge, and slithered out on her stomach. "Alicia, crawl under the shrubs until you're closer to the fence; then run for home." Alicia looked worriedly over her shoulder and crawled away. Morgan stood on tiptoe, grabbed the window, and pulled it shut. ' Then she looked around for a good hiding place. She remembered that the lab door was open. Surely there would be someplace to hide in there.

Morgan walked into the pitch-dark lab. The lights were off, and there were no windows. She felt around, then found the switch. Light flooded the room. But there was nowhere to hide.

The lab contained three black worktables, and shelves full of supplies lined the walls. A clothesline was strung across the room, and a single piece of charcoal gray fabric hung from it.

"The fabric sample," Morgan whispered. Ordinarily, she wouldn't touch anything in the lab. She wasn't even allowed inside it without her mother, but today, she decided, was an exception. She climbed onto one of the tables, trying not to bump any of the glass beakers on the tabletop, and carefully lifted the fabric off the clothesline.

The cloth was about the size of a small bed sheet, but it was surprisingly heavy. In fact, it was all Morgan could do to carry' it over her shoulder. The oddest thing about the fabric, though, was that it seemed to be changing color. The center had turned the color of her shirt, and the corners, which dragged across the tabletop, were black.

Morgan was about to jump to the floor when she saw her mother's notebook on the opposite table. Her mother never went anywhere without that notebook. Certainly, Morgan reasoned, that wasn't something she would like those people upstairs to find. Morgan de­cided to take the notebook to her hiding place, too. She clambered off the table, knocking two glass beakers onto the floor.

She froze, praying that no one upstairs had heard the crash.

"You go down and check on that noise. I'll stay up here with Mrs. Freeman," instructed a muffled voice at the top of the stairs. The basement door opened. Morgan snatched the notebook, slammed it shut, ran out the lab, and ducked behind the furnace. She barely made it before the man rounded the corner at the bottom of the steps.

"Who's there?" he called.

Morgan smashed herself into the corner and threw the fabric over her head. If the man looked behind the furnace, she hoped he wouldthink she was just a pile of old rags. The cloth was so heavy, it was nearly suffocating her. Morgan hardly breathed as she clutched her mother's notebook to her chest. Morgan could hear footsteps approaching the furnace. She tried to make herself small, but she thought she must look exactly like a person hiding under a dirty sheet. The footsteps stopped in front of the furnace, and Morgan held her breath.

"Aha!" the man shouted, jumping to the back of the furnace.

She didn't move. She couldn't move. She was frozen to the floor. Morgan waited for the man to wrench the sheet front her head, but he only grunted, then turned and walked away. She let out a long, low sigh of relief. Morgan listened as the man discovered her mother's lab.

"Hey, there's a whole setup down here," the man called upstairs to his accomplice, "but no fabric."

Morgan heard him rummaging through her mother's supplies. The woman in the trench coat came downstairs, pulling Mrs. Free­man by the elbow.

"Very well, Mrs. Freeman, I'm sure you can easily produce a duplicate sample."

Behind the furnace, Morgan tugged the fabric off her head, and then gasped as she looked down at her legs. The fabric still covered them, and they seemed invisible. The cloth now matched the pattern on the linoleum floor. And where it touched the wall behind her, the fabric was a pale, cinder-block gray. Morgan hastily opened her mother's notebook. In bold letters at the top of the first page were printed the words "Chameleon Cloth."

Silently, Morgan crept out from behind the furnace. She draped the cloth over her head and shoulders so that only her face peered out. The two strangers ransacked the lab while Mrs. Freeman stood helplessly at the door, her hands still tied.

Morgan tiptoed to her mother's side, and then silently slipped half of the chameleon cloth around her mother's shoulders. Morgan was so well camouflaged that Mrs. Freeman was momentarily startled.

"It's me," Morgan whispered.

Mrs. Freeman smiled and nodded, then quietly wrapped herself in the cloth. The two had sneaked to the basement steps before the strangers noticed Mrs. Freeman's disappearance.

"Hey, where'd she go?" the woman shouted. Morgan and Mrs. Freeman pressed their backs against the wall. The chameleon cloth faded, and both strangers ran past them.

Morgan could hear police sirens approaching the house. The front door opened and then slammed shut as the strangers ran out.

Morgan and Mrs. Freeman pulled the chameleon cloth from their faces and smiled at one another. Morgan knew she would never lose a game of hide-and-seek again.

Дата добавления: 2015-11-16