It looks as if I would never be 8 страница

The Englishman worked as a writer, historian, and philosopher from the later 19th century through the mid 20th century. He questioned society's chances for survival in a world in which technological advances outpaced intellectual development.

Although he is known as an author of award-winning science fiction, the American has written more than 400 books, most of which are nonfiction and explore all areas of science. He is well known for his gift to describe complex scientific ideas clearly.

DISCUSSION PROJECT (STORIES 11-15)

MEET A WELL-READ PERSON.

In the group, share the experiences of reading history or science fiction books.

JUST ONE OF THE GUYS

by Donna Gamashe

I. PRE-READING

1.1. SHARE your experiences of being an athlete, professional or otherwise. Speak about the sport societies you belonged to, or the kinds of sport you went in for. If you have some results to be proud of, don't hesitate to boast a bit!

1.2. DISCUSS the merits of this or that professional athlete, male or female. Find out why exactly you sympathize with him/her.

1.3. DEBATE the problems related to spectacular sports of today. It seems that the more spectacular they are, the more dangerous it becomes to participate in them.

II. READING

2.1. Understanding the title.

The title of the story is clearly about a boy who wants to act and behave like everybody else. Or, maybe, there are other interpretations of the title.

2.2. Reading for pleasure and enrichment.

Read the story from beginning to end and answer the question: Did Deena manage to be "one of the guys" in the end?

The following words will be helpful to understand the events better.

Snort — to express emotions by breathing air noisily through your nose

Hustle — busy and noisy activity

Distract — make someone stop activity and do something else

Slump down — to suddenly fall or sit down

Harp —to talk about something in an annoying or boring way

I met Tommy and Brent at the door of the rink as I was going in for the first hockey practice of the season. Brent ignored me and went on ahead, but Tommy stopped. "Hi, Deena," he said. "You're playing again, eh?"

"Yeah," I told him. "But Mom says I've got to change in the women's washroom this year. Tell the coach I'll be out in a little while."

"O.K.," Tommy said and hurried after Brent, down beneath the stands, while I went on upstairs. I dumped my bag on the floor of the washroom and started pulling out my equipment.

I'd been playing hockey for three years — this would be my fourth — ever since I was nine. But I was still the only girl on the team. All the other girls my age either took figure skating or swimming or dancing. That didn't bother me; I'd always just been "one of the guys" anyway. I hoped that wouldn't change. I had been dressing in the small equipment room inside the boys' locker room, and now I'd miss the fun of getting ready with the rest of the team. But Mom insisted I needed more privacy.

I put on all my equipment and skates, then used the blade protectors to walk downstairs to ice level. The rest of the team — we were the Eagles — were just coming out.

"What's with you, Deena?" asked Brent. "Too good for the rest of us?" He was the only one over the years who had never let me forget that I was a girl playing what was usually a boys' game.

I just ignored him now and started my warm-up exercises. I'd grown a whole lot over the last six months, and most of the guys — includingBrent — were shorter than I was. Coach Bingham took one look at my height and suggested I try defense, where the bigger kids usually played. Other years I'd played forward, while Brent and Tommy were def ensemen, but I heard the coach tell both of them to try out on the forward line.

It felt good to be back on skates. The coach had us work on stick handling drills and a lot of plain hard skating to get our legs in shape. Finally we had a scrimmage game, and he pairedme on defense with Jibs, who was tall and heavy. When practice ended, I slipped on my skate protectors and headed upstairs to change. "Can't stand our company, eh?" Brent called, but nobody else said anything.

The next few practices went the same way. Coach Bingham worked us hard and tried us in various combinations. Some days I was paired with Jibs, sometimes with one of the other guys, but always on defense. Tommy and Brent stayed as forwards, and Brent wasn't happy.

"Couldn't I play on defense?" I heard him ask the coach. "I'm used to it, and I'm not that much smaller than Deena." But Coach Bingham shook his head.

After three weeks we were ready for the season opener. I got to the rink in good time, dressed upstairs as usual, then went down and knocked on the locker room door.

"Come downstairs after everyone's dressed," Coach Bingham had suggested. "I'd like you there for the pep talk and any last-minute coaching."

"We're waiting. How come you're so special?" Brent said sarcastically as I went in, but only loud enough for Tommy and me to hear.

"Don't listen to him," Tommy whisper "He's mad because the coach is putting you on the starting line and not him."

Brent's face turned really red, and he pulled on his hockey mask to cover it. When the coach called my name for penalty killing, too, Brent snorted.

"He's just jealous," Tommy said as he trooped out onto the ice. "Don't let it bother you." But it did, a little.

The game started, and it was a close call. We were playing the Pythons, and by the first intermission, there was still no score. "I need some goals from you forwards", Coach Bingham said as we took a break. "The defense is playing well; keep it up. But ' forwards, get a hustle on."

The second period started off with a bang. After thirty seconds the Pythons scored — against my line — but right afterward Jibs got the puck up to Tommy, who banged in a goal for us. After one minute we were even again!

"Way to go, Tommy!" I shouted.

The tie lasted until halfway through the third period. Then Jibs and I together got a breakaway, and we were both up ice, passing our forwards and theirs. We moved in on the Python defense. I tried to slip the puck across to Jibs, but a Python defenseman nabbed it. Before I could reach him, he was away down the ice with no one between him and our goalie. He flipped the puck into the corner of our net, and my stomach sank as Coach Bingham signaled us off.

"Don't you remember what the coach said?" Brent snarled as I skated past him. "If one defenseman has a breakaway, the other always stays back. Never ever are both defensemen in the other team's end. Don't you listen?"

"I just forgot," I muttered.

"I'll talk to you two later," Coach Bingham said as Jibs and I slumped down on the bench. I felt miserable. That goal had been our fault. Maybe I'd been too distracted by Brent's teasing in the locker room — if only I'd listened more carefully!

It didn't help any when Brent skated back to talk to the coach. "How about putting me on defense?" he asked. "I wouldn't make that mistake."

"We'll stick with what we've practiced for now," Coach Bingham said, and motioned Brent back to center ice.

The rest of the third period sped by. Since we had only four defensemen, the coach couldn't very well bench us, and I was glad to get back on the ice again. I played as hard as I could, and right near the end of the game, it paid off. Jibs got the puck across to me, and I slipped it across to Brent, who snapped in a slap shot from the Pythons' blue line.

"Good work, team!" the coach yelled, and Brent actually smiled when I pounded him on the back. The game ended a minute later in a tie. "Deena!" Coach Bingham called a few minutes later as I started to head upstairs. "You come into the locker room for a few minutes before you change. I want to talk to the whole team."

"Yes, sir," I mumbled. I knew he hadn't forgotten our big mistake. I felt as if I had the weight of the rink on my shoulders.

Everyone clumped in and sat down on the benches. Tommy made room for me beside him, and Brent was on my other side.

The coach cleared his throat. "It was a good game, gang," he said. "You played well, and that's what counts. There were a couple of bad mistakes — but the people who made them know it, so I won't harp on them." He paused for a moment, then went on. "There is one thing, though. We're a team, don't forget. I want a little more team spirit here. No in-team fighting or criticizing, even when mistakes are made. Understood?"

"Sure, coach," everyone chorused, including Brent.

I stood up to go, and Brent stood up, too, his face red again. "Sorry, Deena," he said quietly. "You're O.K. on defense."

"And you're O.K. on forward," I said. "That was a great goal you scored."

Brent shrugged and looked embarrassed. "It was nice to score," he said. "Maybe I'll get to really like playing forward, once I catch on to it."

I grinned at him as I headed back out of the locker room. Maybe this year would work out, after all. Maybe I could still be "one of the guys."

2.3. True or false?

Deena, that twelve-year-old hockey player...

1. had nothing against being the only girl on the team.

2. had always been a "tough guy" among her friends.

3. could stand Brent's nagging remarks with grace.

4. had already learnt how to ignore boys' silly teasing.

5. was good enough to play on defense and on forward alike.

6. was hardly very good at penalty kicking, though.

7. took everything that happened during the match too close to her heart.

8. felt depressed and miserable after the match had ended in a tie.

2.4. Understanding points of view.

Scan the story and try to explain what the characters meant.

"Way to go, Tommy!" "Can't stand our company, eh?" "It was a good game, gang." "That was a great goal you scored." "What's with you, Deena? Too good for the rest of us? " "There were a couple of bad mistakes — but the people who made them know it, so I won"t harp on them." "Maybe I'll get to really like playing forward, once I catch on to it."

2.5. Sportive vocabulary.

Scan the story again fishing out all the sportive words. Some of them are found at the very beginning of the story.

Let's begin: a rink, hockey practice, a season... Now you continue.

2.6. Storing vocabulary.

Paraphrase the following sentences using the expressions taken from the story.

1. With seven people squashed in one house you won't get solitude.

2. Don't pay attention to his words, he's just kidding.

3. Let us keep to the original arrangements.

4. It was a long time before they realized what he was doing.

5. Who put all these books in disorder on my desk?

6. It's not like her to be late — she always comes well ahead of time.

7. We've nearly had an accident. Don't drive that fast again, okay?

8. The coach gave some encouraging words at half time.

9. The longer I waited outside the closed door, the lower my spirits dropped.

Choose from: to ignore, to dump, privacy, a pep talk, in good time, a close call, to sink, to stick with, to catch on to.

2.7. Grammar.

Deena's mother insisted that the girl should have more privacy. There were many other things the characters of the story suggested/ recommended /proposed /demanded someone should do. Could you think of what to say?

Deena Deena's mother Deena's friend, a girl Coach Bingham Tommy, a devoted friend Brent, her teasing teammate Another of the teammates

suggested proposed insisted demanded recommended

that _______ should

2.8. More grammar.

The game against the Pythons was a serious test for Deena. She managed to cope with it, of course, but not without effort. She was frustrated many times, and had bitter thoughts. Reconstruct some of her thoughts using the pattern below.

e. g. Deena thought, "Had it not been for________, I would have________."

2.9. Which or what?

If you are not sure what to fill in, which is highly probable, do the following carefully.

1. _____the coach wanted from his team was team spirit.

2. Brent always teased Deena_____, annoyed the girl a lot.

3. Deena started to change in the washroom_____ surprised others.

4. To be "one of the guys" was all_____ the girl wanted.

5. The coach offered Deena to play on defense _______ was like a bolt out of the blue.

6. Deena thanked Brent for his performance_______ embarrassed him no end.

7. ______ Deena found hard to get used to was her new role on the team.

III. POST-READING

3.1. Feelings.

Teenage boys are sometimes intolerable, as teenage girls always say. In pairs, discuss Deena's ways as if you were Tommy and Brent, young hockey players. They have very different opinions about having a girl play on defense. Here is the beginning of their conversation.

Tommy. Hey, Brent, don't be too hard on Deena, okay?

Brent. I don't want to let her forget she's not one of us!

Tommy. How come she isn't? I don't understand. She's been playing...

3.2. Should a girl try to be "ONE OF THE GUYS"?

In the group, hold a debate using the above statement (one of Deena's thoughts) as a starter. There are some other tentative statements you might like to dispute.

1. All girls should never want to play "boys' games".

2. A girl who is trying to be "one of the guys" is a pathetic sight.

3. Women belong at homes not hockey team washrooms, so do girls.

4. Boys can never manage to play any game if there are no girls around.

5. In this country, men will never treat women as equals.

3.3. Boys are awful, girls are intolerable.

It seems that lots of gender-biased misconceptions are simply stereotypes. Let us explore some of the most commonplace cliches about men and women. Fill in the table below writing down anything you might have thought once about the representative(s) of the opposite sex.

All boys (young men) are..

All girls (young women) are.

Compare individual tables and work out Group Opinion Table. Find out if the things in it are really stereotypes, and nothing else.

3.4. Famous women project.

Do you think you know a lot about these remarkable women? If not, learn at once using as many sources as you can. Find information about other great women, too.

1. English actress, star in Gone with the Wind (1939)

2. Roman Catholic nun,winner of the Nobel Peace Prize 1910 — 1997

3. Israeli political leader, founder of the state of Israel 1898—1978

4. English novelist, distinguished author of mystery stories 1890 — 1976

THE MARBLE CHAMP

by Gary Soto

I. PRE-READING

1.1. SPEAK about your greatest athletic achievement. If there are not any of those, speak about other achievements of your own.

1.2. SHARE the information you compiled while doing the Famous Women Project and exchange views on this or that celebrity.

1.3. INTERVIEW a group mate whose achievement is considered by many an outstanding one. If there is no such achievement, invent it!

II. READING

2.1. Understanding the title.

The title of the story allows us to think in different ways about the contents of the story. Which is your way?

2.2. Reading for pleasure and enrichment.

Read the story and answer the question: What made Lupe win the championship?

The following words will be helpful to understand the events better.

Wasp – a black and yellow flying insect that can sting

Fume – to be silently angry

Marbles — a children's game played with colored glass balls

Budge — to move

Sore —painful

Blast – to break into pieces, to attack

Squat – to sit with your knees bent under on your feet you balancing

Glum – sad, gloomy

Commotion — sudden noisy activity

Lupe Merdano, a shy girl who spoke in whispers, was the school's spelling bee champion, winner of the reading contest at the public library three summers in a row, blue ribbon awardee in the science fair, the top student at her piano recital, and the playground grand champion in chess. She was a straight A student and —not counting kindergarten, when she had been stung by a wasp — never missed one day of elementary school. She had received a small trophy for this honor and had been congratulated by the mayor.

But though Lupe had a razor-sharp mind, she could not make her body, no matter how much she tried, run as fast as the other girls'. She begged her body to move faster, but could never beat anyone in the fifty-yard dash.

The truth was that Lupe was no good in sports. She could not catch a pop-up or figure out in which direction to kick the soccer ball. One time she kicked the ball at her own goal and scored a point for the other team. She was no good at baseball or basketball either, and even had a hard time making a Hula-Hoop stay on her hips.

It wasn't until last year, when she was eleven years old, that she learned how to ride a bike. And even then she had to use training wheels. She could walk in the swimming pool but couldn't swim, and chanced roller-skating only when her father held her hand.

"I'll never be good at sports," she fumed one rainy day as she lay on her bed gazing at the shelf her father had made to hold her awards. "I wish I could win something, anything, even marbles."

At the word "marbles," she sat up. "That's it. Maybe I could be good at playing marbles." She hopped out of bed and rummaged through the closet until she found a can full of her brother's marbles.

She poured the rich glass treasure on her bed and picked five of the most beautiful marbles.

She smoothed her bedspread and practiced shooting, softly at first so that her aim would be accurate. The marble rolled from her thumb and clicked against the targeted marble. But the target wouldn't budge. She tried again and again. Her aim became accurate, but the power from her thumb made the marble move only an inch or two. Then she realized that the bedspread was slowing the marbles. She also had to admit that her thumb was weaker than the neck of a newborn chick.

She looked out the window. The rain was letting up, but the ground was too muddy to play.

She sat cross-legged on the bed, rolling her five marbles between her palms. Yes, she thought, I could play marbles, and marbles is a sport. At that moment she realized that she had only two weeks to practice. The playground championship, the same one her brother had entered the previous year, was coming up. She had a lot to do.

To strengthen her wrists, she decided to do twenty push-ups on her fingertips, five at a. time. "One, two, three...," she groaned. By the end of the first set she was breathing hard, and her muscles burned from exhaustion. She did one more set and decided that was enough push-ups for the first day.

She squeezed a rubber eraser one hundred times, hoping it would strengthen her thumb. This seemed to work because the next day her thumb was sore. She could hardly hold a marble in her hand, let alone send it flying with power. So Lupe rested that day and listened to her brother, who gave her tips on how to shoot: get low, aim with one eye, and place one knuckle on the ground.

"Think "eye and thumb" — and let it rip!" he said.

After school the next day she left her homework in her backpack and practiced three hours straight, taking time only to eat a candy bar for energy. With a Pop-sicle stick, she drew an odd-shaped circle and tossed in four marbles. She used her shooter, a milky agate with hypnotic swirls, to blast them. Her thumb had become stronger.

After practice, she squeezed the eraser for an hour. She ate dinner with her left hand to spare her shooting hand and said nothing to her parents about her dreams of athletic glory. Practice, practice, practice. Squeeze, squeeze, squeeze. Lupe got better and beat her brother and Alfonso, a neighbor kid who was supposed to be a champ.

"Man, she's bad!" Alfonso said. "She can beat the other girls for sure. I think."

The weeks passed quickly. Lupe worked so hard that one day, while she was drying dishes, her mother asked why her thumb was swollen.

"It's muscle," Lupe explained. "I've been practicing for the marbles championship."

"You, honey?" Her mother knew Lupe was no good at sports.

"Yeah. I beat Alfonso, and he's pretty good."

That night, over dinner, Mrs. Medrano said, "Honey, you should see Lupe's thumb."

"Huh?" Mr. Medrano said, wiping his mouth and looking at his daughter.

"Show your father."

"Do I have to?" an embarrassed Lupe asked.

"Go on, show your father."

Reluctantly, Lupe raised her hand and flexed her thumb. You could see the muscle.

The father put down his fork and asked, "What happened?"

"Dad, I've been working out. I've been squeezing an eraser."

"Why?"

"I'm going to enter the marbles championship."

Her father looked at her mother and then back at his daughter. "When is it, honey?"

"This Saturday. Can you come?"

The father had been planning to play racquetball with a friend Saturday, but he said he would be there. He knew his daughter thought she was no good at sports and he wanted to encourage her. He even rigged some lights in the backyard so she could practice after dark. He squatted with one knee on the ground, entranced by the sight of his daughter easily beating her brother.

The day of the championship began with a cold blustery sky. The sun was a silvery light behind slate clouds"I hope it clears up," her father said, rubbing his hands together as he returned from getting the newspaper. They ate breakfast, paced nervously around the house waiting for 10:00 to arrive, and walked the two blocks to the playground (though Mr. Medrano wanted to drive so Lupe wouldn't get tired). She signed up and was assigned her first match on baseball diamond number three.

Lupe, walking between her brother and her father, shook from the cold, not nerves. She took off her mittens, and everyone stared at her thumb. Someone asked, "How can you play with a broken, thumb?" Lupe smiled and said nothing.

She beat her first opponent easily, and felt sorry for the girl because she didn't have anyone to cheer for her. Except for her sack of marbles, she was all alone. Lupe invited the girl, whose name was Rachel, to stay with them. She smiled and said, "O.K." The four of them walked to a card table in the middle of the outfield, where Lupe was assigned another opponent.

She also beat this girl, a fifth-grader named Yolanda, and asked her to join their group. They proceeded to more matches and more wins, and soon there was a crowd of people following Lupe to the finals to play a girl in a baseball cap. This girl seemed dead serious. She never even looked at Lupe.

"I don't know, Dad, she looks tough."

Rachel hugged Lupe and said, "Go get her."

"You can do it," her father encouraged.

"Just think of the marbles, not the girl, and let your thumb do the work."

The other girl broke first and earned one marble. She missed her next shot, and Lupe, one eye closed, her thumb quivering with energy, blasted two marbles out of the circle,but missed her next shot. Her opponent earned two more before missing. She stamped her foot and said "Shoot!" The score was three4o two in favor of Miss Baseball Cap.

The referee stopped the game. "Back up, please, give them room," he shouted. Onlookers had gathered too tightly around the players. Lupe then earned three marbles and was set to get her fourth when a gust of wind blew dust in her eyes and she missed badly. Her opponent quickly scored two marbles, tying the game, and moved ahead six to five on a lucky shot. Then she missed, and Lupe, whose eyes felt scratchy when she blinked, relied on instinct and thumb muscle to score the tying point. It was now six to six, with only three marbles left. Lupe blew her nose and studied the angles. She dropped to one knee, steadied her hand, and shot so hard she cracked two marbles from the circle. She was the winner!

"I did it!" Lupe said under her breath. She rose from her knees, which hurt from bending all day, and hugged her father. He hugged her back and smiled. Everyone clapped, except Miss Baseball Cap, who made a face and stared at the ground. Lupe told her she was a great player, and they shook hands. A newspaper photographer took pictures of the two girls standing shoulder to shoulder, with Lupe holding the bigger trophy. Lupe then played the winner of the boys' division, and after a poor start beat him eleven to four. She blasted the marbles, shattering one into sparkling slivers of glass. Her opponent looked on glumly as Lupe did what she did best — win!

The head referee and the President of the Fresno Marble Association stood with Lupe as she displayed her trophies for the newspaper photographer. Lupe shook hands with everyone, including a dog who had come over to see what the commotion was all about. That night, the family went out for pizza and set the two trophies on the table for everyone in the restaurant to see. People came up to congratulate Lupe, and she felt a little embarrassed, but her father said the trophies belonged there.

Back home, in the privacy of her bedroom, she placed the trophies on her shelf and was happy. She had always earned honors because of her brains, but winning in sports was a new experience. She thanked her tired thumb. "You did it, thumb. You made me champion." As its reward, Lupe went to the bathroom, filled the bathroom sink with warm water, and let her thumb swim and splash as it pleased. Then she climbed into bed and drifted into a hard-won sleep.

2.3. True or false?

1. Lupe Merdano had no big potential for doing well in sports.

2. The girl was eager to get as many trophies as she possibly couldPlaying marbles came as a happy idea to her.

3. The game of marbles turned out to be very hard to play.

4. Rachel, Lupe's mother, thought Lupe was not serious about marbles.

5. Lupe's father, though, showed considerable interest in the business.

6. The championship turned out to be a disaster for Lupe Merdano.

7. Lupe understood she had won by chance, not by skill.

2.4. Understanding the author's point of view.

Scan the story and try to explain what the author meant by putting his words that way. Is there some subtle irony in the following words?

1. She was a straight A student and - not counting kindergarten, when she had been stung by a wasp - never missed one day of elementary school.

2. But though Lupe had a razor-sharp mind, she could not make her body run as fast as other girls.

3. She practised three hours straight, taking time only to eat a candy bar for energy.

4. Lupe shook hands with everyone, including a dog who had come over to see what the commotion was about.

Дата добавления: 2015-11-16