&&000 CANADIAN SCHOOLBOOKS   2004                                          CA90504.TXT

Sampled from OISE/UT library by dph 12 Jan 2004
edited by dph after Scanning with DPHs HP scanner and Textbridge OCR
RE-EDITED BY DPH FROM LIST OF RESIDUALS 3/21/04
Re-edited 22 June 2005

&&111
=Anna worked busily that autumn, bringing in her
scanty harvest. The crop of wheat was poor, but she cut it anyway, and
ground it between two stones to make coarse flour.
     As =Christmas approached, she still had not heard from =Ivan. I
know in my heart that he is alive, she told the spider.
     She swept the house thoroughly, making sure not to disturb the
spider's web. Then she washed the walls and laundered the babushka
and spread it on the scrubbed table. She looked at her thin store of food.
     =Hmmm,  she said. It will take imagination to make the traditional
twelve dishes from this!
     But she set to work, making a spoonful of the grain pudding known
as =kutia, two =pyrohy, and two =holubtsi, or cabbage rolls. She had one
beet, so she made a cup of borscht. With her last bit of flour she made
a tiny braided =kolach.  Each mouthful will have to count as a dish,
she mused.
     She searched the field for what scattered stalks of wheat were left
and bound them into a tiny =didukh. She placed it in the corner. And
then she set the table for two.
     Suddenly she realized that she had no =Christmas tree! Alone, she cut
a fir and dragged it back to the house. It was hard work for one person.
She could push the saw, but =Ivan wasn't there to pull it.
     She planted the tree in the dirt floor in front of the window and
regarded it sadly. There was no flour left to make even one cookie to
decorate it.
     She lit a candle end and set that before the pane of glass, hoping
that somehow, its light would guide =Ivan home.
     As the first star appeared, =Anna prayed for her husband's return. She
sat alone at the table set for two and waited.
     But =Ivan did not come. The candle spluttered and died. =Anna
couldn't bring herself to eat even a bite of the cold food. Shivering, she
pulled the babushka from the table and wrapped herself in it, then
cried herself to sleep.
     Finally the sun shining through the window warmed her cheek. Her
heart was so full of despair that she was afraid to open her eyes. She
thought of the cold food, the bare tree, and the empty house. With a
sigh, she rose.
     She gazed at the light streaming through the window and drew a
breath in wonder. The forlorn tree had been transformed, dazzling in a
tapestry of silvery threads. On the topmost branch, the black spider
slept, resting from an evening of labor.
     

You are lying! You are a thief, =Mistress shouted, her tiny
eyes blazing with anger.
     =Sylvie's not a liar! =Mamma did give her the green dress, 
cried the boy angrily, running to =Sylvia's side. And she not
a thief, either.
     She's a black slave, that; what she is, and she's no
business in the parlor, retorted the woman.
     The boy stamped his foot and burst into tears.
     I hate you! You're mean, he cried.
     That's enough, Master =Timmy! Come along at once. As
for you, =Sylvia, get downstairs to the kitchen where you
belong. Colonel =Creighton will hear about this.
     So saying, Mistress =Smith seized =Timmy by the arm and
dragged him from the room. For a minute =Sylvia stayed
defiantly where she was.
     Then, instead of going to the kitchen, she slipped into the
garden and ran to a favorite corner by the picket fence, where
she was hidden from the house by a clump of lilac bushes.
For a long time she remained there, sad and brooding.
     The home of Colonel =Creighton stood on the slope of a
steep hill overlooking =Lunenburg harbor, on the south shore
of =NovaScotia. From her hiding place =Sylvia could see over
the roofs of the closely clustered houses to the harbor itself.
It was empty of ships that day, for the men of the town
had set sail for deep-sea fishing off the =GrandBanks
of =Newfoundland.
     Suddenly a shiver ran through =Sylvia and she
felt a strange sense of foreboding. It was
midsummer of the year =1782, a year when
=England was at war with her rebellious colonies
to the south. No coastal settlement in =NovaScotia
was ever entirely safe from the looting, pillaging,
and burning of =Yankee privateers. Sylvia =looked
away from the harbor and out to sea, but there
were no ships there. All seemed safe and peaceful.
     It's just because I'm upset, seeing =Timmy crying
all the time and not being able to go and comfort
him, so she decided, trying to shake off her uneasiness.
Turning her back on the sea, she peered through the
lilacs at the =Creighton house.

distinction of any kind,
such as race, color, sex,
language, religion,
political or other
opinion, national or
social origin, property,
birth, or other status.
     Whereas the child, by
reason of his physical
and mental immaturity,
needs special safeguards
and care, including
appropriate legal
protection, before as
well as after birth.
     Whereas the need for
such special safeguards
has been stated in the
=GeneralDeclarationof
the =Rights of the Child
of =1924, and recognized
in the =Universal
=DeclarationofHuman
=Rights and in the
statutes of specialized
agencies and
international
organizations concerned
with the welfare of
children.
     Whereas mankind
owes to the child the
best it has to give.
Now therefore,
The =GeneralAssembly
Proclaims this
=DeclarationoftheRights
=oftheChild to the end
that he may have a
happy childhood and
enjoy for his own good
and for the good of
society the rights and
freedoms herein set
forth, and calls upon
parents, upon men and
women as individuals,
and upon voluntary
organizations, local
authorities, and national
Governments to
recognize these rights
and strive for their
observance by legislative
and other measures
progressively taken in
accordance with the
following principles:

PRINCIPLE =1 The
child shall enjoy all the
rights set forth in this
=Declaration. All
children, without any
exception whatsoever,
shall be entitled to these
rights, without
distinction or
discrimination on
account of race, color,
sex, language, religion,
political or other
opinion, national or
social origin, property,
birth, or other status,
whether of himself or of
his family.

PRINCIPLE =2 The
child shall enjoy special
protection, and shall be
given opportunities and
facilities, by law and by
other means, to enable
him to develop
physically, mentally,
morally, spiritually, and
socially in a healthy and
normal manner and in
conditions of freedom
and dignity. In the
enactment of laws for
this purpose the best
interests of the child
shall be the paramount
consideration.

PRINCIPLE =3 The
child shall be entitled
from his birth to a name
and nationality.

PRINCIPLE =4 The
child shall enjoy the
benefits of social
security. He shall be
entitled to grow and
develop in health: to this
end special care and
protection shall be
provided both to him
and to his mother,
including adequate
prenatal and postnatal
care. The child shall
have the right to
adequate nutrition,
housing, recreation, and
medical services.


STAGE MANAGER

     The stage manager is the person
who has to know what everyone else is
doing. She or he has to be able to
answer everyone's questions and solve
everyone's problems. A lot of people
work together to put on a show in
costumes, lighting, sound, props, sets,
make-up, front of house and the stage
manager must make sure that all of
them know what they're supposed to
be doing.
     The stage manager also organizes
rehearsals so that all the actors are
there when they are needed. During
rehearsals, the stage manager must
make notes of all the director's
decisions the blocking (where the
actors move and when); when lights
come on; when a sound cue happens;
changes in costumes, props, or sets
(That wall should be blue, not green);
everything that needs fixing or that
hasn't been done yet.
     A prompt book contains all the
information about the actual running of
the play. It might be a three-ring binder
or scrapbook. On one page is a page
from the play. Across from it might be
on =b) the =WorldClownAssociation, and
=InternationalClownsofAmerica
seminars, too.

Picture a group of about one hundred
and twenty men, women, boys, and girls,
all dressed up in different clown
costumes, with full make-up, taking
classes! Clowns learn how to act and
how to develop character. Applying make
up, making balloon animals, developing
skits, and performing basic magic are all
part of the training. Clowns also learn
how to work with different groups of
people, such as children, sick people, or
seniors groups. The teachers and clowns
perform for each other and share ideas
and skills There is lots of laughter and
lots of noise. Clown school is never dull!


     No, most clowns to not do magic. I
chose magic because of my first clowning
experiences as a =ShrineClown visiting
sick children in the hospital. I noticed
that when the clowns visited the
children's ward of the hospital, each
clown could entertain one child at a time,
but then the rest of the children would
be waiting for their turn. I thought that it
would be nice if I could entertain thirty
children all at once. I decided to learn
some small hand magic not the big
magic that the famous magicians do
on TV, but simpler tricks. I
developed a routine of magic tricks,
which I have added to over the
years. I now do a stage show
where I do not do the magic
the children do. The children are
holding the hat when the napkin
changes into a dove, or the bowl
when the rubber fish become live
goldfish. Of course =Bing-Go gets
pretty confused with the magic, so
he needs lots of help from the
audience!





     The dance of the =Traditional men is
dramatic. Some dancers imitate the
movements of animals or birds. Others
move in a crouched position as if tracking
or hunting. The dancers echo a past when
men relied on their skills as hunters and
warriors to survive.
     There is a change in mood when the
=Traditional women dancers enter the
dancing arbor. With their backs straight
and heads held high, they move in a regal
manner. Each dancer carries a beautiful
shawl draped over one arm, and in the
opposite hand she holds an eagle-feather
fan. Their dance steps have a slight dip
that makes the fringe on their clothes
sway gently to the rhythm of the drum.
The strength and beauty of their
movement fills the arbor.
     Like those of the =Traditional men, the
women's clothes reflect a closeness to
nature. Dresses are often made from the
skins of animals such as deer and elk and
are decorated with porcupine quills,
cowrie shells, and elk teeth. But the
influence of trade with =Europeans can
also be seen. Cotton and wool trade
cloth can be used for dresses. Machine-made
fringe decorates shawls, and glass
beads glint from dress yokes, sleeves,
moccasins, and leggings.
     Next come the =Fancy dancers. The
men are the first to perform. What
makes them stand out from the
=Traditional dancers is color  and lots
of vibrant color. Equally beautiful are the
=Fancy women dancers. They wear their
shawls over their shoulders while holding
the ends in their hands. At times, the
dancers look like exotic birds in flight.





     At the end of each dance, the dancers
leave the arbor hot, tired, and thirsty.
Outside the arbor is a fairway with
concession stands selling all kinds of food
and drink. The dancers can rest and cool
off with a soda pop or ice cream. And it's
always fun to share some fry bread or a
hot dog with friends.
     There are also stands where dancers
can buy materials for their dance clothes.
Skins, feathers, beads, bells, shawls, and
many other items are for sale. Tape
recordings of the different drums,
T-shirts, and other souvenirs can also be
found along the fairway.
     Back in the dancing arbor, a new
drum is selected, and as the singers'
voices fill the air, the Grass dancers begin
to weave and bend to the music. This is a
man's dance based on old war-society
dances of the northern plains. In this
fast-stepping style, the dancer almost appears
to be falling off balance, then catching
himself just in time.


     When it's time to return to Earth, the pilot uses the =RCS jets
to turn the orbiter around so that it's flying backwards. After
that, the =OMS rockets fire again, slowing the shuttle so it begins
to fall out of orbit. =8 Then the =RCS jets turn the orbiter nose-up for re-entry.
     About thirty minutes later, the orbiter plunges back into the
Earth's upper atmosphere at =26500 . The rubbing, or
friction, of the air against the speeding craft heats its underside to
around =6500C. The orbiter would melt if it weren't covered
with heat-proof ceramic tiles made of a mixture of sand and clay.
Though the nose and underside of the orbiter glow red-hot, the
temperature inside stays normal. 
     When the orbiter gets deeper in the atmosphere, it flies like
a glider. The tail rudder acts as a speed brake. Flaps on the
trailing edges of the orbiter' wings and under the rear engines
change the craft's position. To slow down even more, the orbiter
descends in long S-shaped curves through the atmosphere. 
     Three minutes from landing, the runway approach begins. 
The orbiter comes down ten times more steeply than a
passenger jet, and much faster. It can only land on special extra-long 
runways. The runway approach must be correct the first
time because at this stage the shuttle is a true glider. The small
engines that move it in orbit cannot help it land! The shuttle's
landing gear descends, and the rear wheels touch down, smoking.
Then the nose wheel hits the ground with a thud.  A perfect
landing, just an hour's flight from space. What a ride!

At last, when the sun began sinking in the sky,
=Leopold and his mother returned to the aerie. =Albert
jumped up and down and screeched for them to
rescue him, but they could do nothing. Hungry and
tired and alone, =Albert rocked back and forth on his
dark, narrow perch.
Soon afterward =Albert's father returned to soar
above the cliff. From his powerful talons dangled a
tasty meal for his nestling.
Food! =Albert stopped screeching. Suddenly he
seemed to know that if he were to survive, he must
learn how to fly and fly now.
     Giving his feathers a shake,
=Albert stood up straight. With
=Leopold crying from above, he
leaped into the air. Wings
flapping like electric beaters, he
lifted himself higher and higher
in furious fits and spurts, until
at last he stumbled upon the
aerie.
     Quickly =Albert's father
soared over and dropped the
food at his feet. =Albert grabbed
the morsel with his talons,
puffed out his feathers, then
dove into dinner. He paused
only for a moment when he
heard a strange sound coming
from behind the blind. He
didn't know or care that it was
the biologist giving a shout of
joy. All that mattered now was
that he was no longer a
nestling. Like his brother,
=Albert had at last become a
fledgling.




This is the =Johnsons' phone number, where we'll be, and the
phone's right here at your elbow. Well be back before the
thunderstorms.
     Every afternoon since he'd been at his grandparents' farm, they had
had thunderstorms, big, powerful storms with booming thunder and
streaks of lightning. The only one who hated the storms more than =Sam
was his grandparents' big black dog, =Bull.
     Now, you're sure you
     I'll be fine!
     Actually, it was amazing how little sympathy he was getting. His feet
were as big as balloons. His toes were like sausages. Each hornet sting
was a white welt in the red, swollen flesh.
     And yet, because it was his own fault, because he had gone out in
the yard barefoot, nobody seemed to care. How was he to know hornets
made nests in the ground? How was he to know he could be stung, and
that, while he was hopping in fear and pain from one foot to the other,
he could be stung eight more times?
     His cousins had known, but they were farm kids. He was from the
city. He thought hornets only made nests in trees. His eyes filled with
tears of sympathy for himself.
     He heard scratching at the screen door. =Bull? he called. Is that you?
     The only time =Bull ever wanted to come into the house was when a
storm was coming. =Bull, his grandfather said, was better than the
weatherman at predicting storms.




Then he raised his goblet. To the knights in my service, brave
and true men, every one.
     The knights raised their goblets to the toast and downed
the wine. Every throat bobbed except =LittleKay's. Hers
remained as smooth as a marble column.
     Imposter! the Sultan thundered. Deceitful wretch! You
and your vile family will suffer for this. Fetch me that
scheming magician.
     Treacherous brood! snorted the Sultan when the
magician and his daughters were brought before him. I have
in mind a truly horrible punishment for your crime. Would
you like to guess what it might be?
     But before anyone could utter a word, the palace
shuddered as though hit by an earthquake. The great doors of
the chamber burst open and there stood an ogre so huge and
so hideous that the Sultan' brave knights fainted at the sight
of him.
     I am =Jabel, the ogre bellowed, and today is my birthday!
So what do you say? he roared.
     Happy birthday, =Jabel? whispered the Sultan.
     And what do you do on birthdays?
     Give presents? added the Sultan weakly.
     Right! howled the ogre with a wicked smile. I have
heard you give the most wonderful presents, jewelry and
gowns and crystal mirrors. But you forgot to give anything to
me!
     What would you like? whispered the =Sultan.
     For a start I want all your treasure. If everything you have
is not in a wagon at the gates in an hour, I will tear this palace
down. And then I will squash ten thousand of your subjects
like ants under my heel. Just for a start!
     I am lost! the Sultan wept when the ogre had gone.
Whatever I give him will never be enough. My kingdom will
be destroyed. And not one of my knights is brave enough to
stand up to him!
     I am, piped up a fierce little voice. I will defeat the
ogre!
     You? cried the =Sultan, gazing in wonder at =LittleKay.
Impossible! He waved at the unconscious knights on the
floor. I certainly can't give you an army.


     But one year a new peddler
arrived and, unlike the others,    
sat down on his carpet with
nothing at all. Now this was a
town where people didn't ask
many question, so he sat there
in silence for a long time.
Finally a young woman named
=Sophie got very curious and
came over to ask what he was
selling. Ideas, he replied.
I'm an ideas peddler.
     =Sophie wrinkled her nose.
Who would buy an idea?
     Well, said the peddler,
they are bought by people
whose ideas are worn out or
moldy or out of style. They are
bought by people who have
used up their whole supply.
How much do they cost? asked =Sophie.
     Depends on the type. The most expensive are thoughts, and they
cost one night's lodging. The cheapest are whims, and they cost one
apple. In between are concepts, plans, opinions, impressions, notions,
and fancies.
     By now =Sophie was really interested, so she ran to the fruit stall and
came back with an apple. I'd like a whim, please.
     The peddler pocketed the apple and said, Here's a top-quality
whim. If you glue little pieces of metal to the soles of your shoes you
can make music when you dance.
     But I don't like dancing, protested =Sophie.
     Oh. that's all right, said the peddler. You don't have to do it. It's
just an idea after all, some words to keep in your head. =Sophie
wandered away looking puzzled.
     Nobody else bought an idea that day, and the peddler spent a
hungry night in the open air. But the next day he fared better.
     =Mary the baker arrived in the early morning with a fresh loaf to buy
an Impression. The peddler looked up at the hills behind the town
whet the mist was just starting to burn off and said, The hill in the
middle is a giant carrot pudding just out of the oven.

               

     The =Rajah was secretly delighted. A few piles of rice would
certainly be far cheaper than his precious jewelry. Honor her
request, he boomed to his servants.
     Two servants brought out a small bowl of rice and carefully placed
two grains of rice on the first square of the board. They placed four
grains of rice on the second square. Then eight on the third square,
sixteen on the fourth square, =thirty-two on the fifth square, =sixty-four
on the sixth square, =128 on the seventh square, and finally =256 grains
of rice on the eighth square at the end of the row.
     Several servants snickered at =Chandra's foolishness, for although
the =256 grains of rice filled the eighth square completely, they
amounted to only a single teaspoon of rice.
     At the first square of the second row, the servants stood
awkwardly, not knowing how to count out the rice. The next
number was =512, but that was too high to count quickly, and
besides, it was too many grains of rice to fit on one square of the
chessboard.
     =Chandra started to explain. Since you had one teaspoon of rice
at the end of the first row, why not just put two teaspoons?
     But the =Rajah cut in. Just keep doubling the rice, he ordered.
You don't need to count every grain.
     So the servants put two teaspoons of rice into a bowl for the first
square of the second row. For the second square, they put four
teaspoons of rice in the bowl. Then eight teaspoons of rice for the
third square, and so continued, doubling the number of teaspoons
each square.
     The eighth square on the second row needed =256 teaspoons of
rice, which by itself filled another bowl.
On the third row, the servants started to count by teaspoons
again, but the Rajah cut in. Showing off his knowledge of
mathematics, he said, If the sixteenth square takes one bowl of
rice, then the seventeenth square takes two bowls of rice. You don't
need to count by teaspoons any more.
So the servants counted by bowls. Two bowlfuls for the first
square, then four, then eight, then sixteen, and so on. The rice for
the last square of the third row completely filled a large
wheelbarrow.
     =Chandra' neighbors smiled at her. Very nice, one of them said.
That would feed my family for a whole year.
     As the servants worked through the fourth row, wheelbarrow by



     But =Peter did not. He didn't want to spend his summer in a
small apartment above a noodle factory. They sent him anyway.
     He missed his parents. He missed his friends. Everything in
=Chinatown seemed old and alien and strange.
     Until he saw the dragon.
     Something about it made =Peter forget his sack of squirming
black crabs. Before =GreatAunt could protest, he walked through
the doorway.
     Yes? said an old man behind a desk.
Is that dragon for sale? =Peter demanded.
     You forgot your manners, =GreatAunt scolded. She spoke to
the old man in =Chinese.
     The man lifted the dragon's head off its hook. He shook it, raising
great clouds of dust and raining bug skeletons all over the floor.
     =Hoo! said =GreatAunt.
Our last dragon, said the man.
The =LastDragon? asked =Peter.
The man nodded. The others we sold long ago.
     Bad luck to keep a dragon that way, said =GreatAunt,
brushing dust from her sleeve.
     He's very old, said the man. You sure you want him?
     =Peter stroked the dragon's tangled whiskers. Yes,
he said.
      very sad dragon, if you ask me, sniffed =GreatAunt.
     Please, Most Favored Aunt, said =Peter. I'll clean him
myself.
     =GreatAunt looked doubtful but finally agreed.
     =Peter carried the dragon's head down =Jefferson Street.
=GreatAunt followed with the rest of him, and the
groceries, too. She grumbled about how the dragons of
her childhood were royal in appearance and received the
homage of every living thing. This was no such creature.
     Back in =GreatAunt's kitchen, =Peter put the
dragon's head on the hat rack. The =LastDragon had a
faded face, a scraggly crest, and no eyes. No eyes at all.
     =GreatAunt laid the tail on the floor and
unfolded the body. A ten-man dragon, she
said. Full of holes. Tail in bad shape.





     Club membership has changed from
time to time, but each member has
always taken their commitment to the
club and its projects very seriously. When
they join the club, members promise to
do their best to attend meetings, carry
jobs through to completion, and treat
people kindly and with respect.
     The club members have become close
friends while planning and carrying out
their projects. They have great fun
together as they're helping people, and
feel they have something worthwhile in
common. Still, the club members are
really quite different from one another.
That works out very well, for they can
do different kinds of things to help out in
the club. Over the year and a half that
they've been volunteering, the members
have discovered things that they are good
at. They have also been challenged to try
things they felt uncomfortable doing at
first or thought they didn't like.
     Starting their club was exciting. They
made business cards and flyers, and
prepared for some busy times. But as
often happens in the business world
even in the volunteer business world
you have to go out and find people to use
your services.



Hands did. During their club meeting
times, they called different organizations
and businesses to ask if they needed any
help. That was the hard part! =Erin and
=Vanessa exclaimed in unison. We'd look
up in the phone book and find places to
call and then spend about half an hour
deciding who would call.
     You call, one would say.
     No, you call, another would reply.
And so it would go on.
     Finally =Angie would end up calling and
getting the jobs set up. That was before
Sarah joined the club. =Sarah loves to talk
and now she happily makes the calls.


 A Parade of Projeets

When the jobs seemed slow in
coming, the =HelpingHands decided they'd
have to go out and do some projects on
their own. That way their willingness to
do volunteer work would become
known. So they declared May as
environment month and went out into
their neighborhood parks and streets to
pick up litter. They distributed
informational flyers to promote
community awareness of themselves and
to tell about ways to care for our
environment.


     =Mama answered, Sometimes we don't see until we
need to pay attention. =Mama and Mr =Bronson lugged the bags through wide
double doors.
     We followed, =Eli and I, into a huge lit space where a
smiling lady behind a big desk gave =Mama some keys.
     Looks like a hotel or something to me, I said.
     Used to be, said the smiling lady, before it became a
shelter.
Our room was on the second floor.
     =Mama let =Eli push the elevator buttons.
     Mr =Bronson helped us get our things to the room.
You're all set, then? he asked.
     =Mama nodded.
If there's anything else I can do, he said, give a holler.
He touched =Mama lightly on the arm.
Thank you, she whispered.
     The room was a little bigger than our living room at the
apartment. There were two double beds in it. The
bathroom had a long counter top with a built-in sink, and
there was a tub with a shower besides.
     At least we get our own bathroom, =Mama said. In
some places, you share.
     We got unpacked the best we could and ate the peanut
butter sandwiches and drank the colas that =Mama had
packed.
I was so weary, I didn't remember anything after
that until =Mama was saying, School.
I rolled over and looked at the ceiling. When I
remembered where I was, I got a sinking feeling.
     =Mama made the bed that she and I shared.
=Eli's was already done. He was sitting on it,
     munching a blueberry muffin.
=Mama and I took turns in the bathroom, and
I hurried to the bus stop with =Eli.
     I pulled my sweatshirt hood almost over my
     face and looked at the sidewalk so no one would
     recognize me.
Did I even look the same? I wondered. Does anyone
     know? What if someone finds out?


&&000 end of CA905.TXT