&&000 USA SCHOOLBOOKS US906X.TXT 1990s 6TH GRADE Samples from FIVE publisher's texts: Macmillan/McGraw Hill # 1; Harc Brace; MacmillanMcGraw-Hill # 2 ADDED silver burdett Ginn ADDED scott foresman 30 June 2004 Added US907HM1 9 july 2004 Added US907HM2 9 July 2004 Scanned and edited by dph 22 June 2004 &&111 =Lynn was happiest when they stayed with her grandparents. They lived in a hogan, the traditional one room =Navajo dwelling made of logs and packed earth. It never seemed crowded despite extra people, and it was from her grandmother and grandfather that Lynn learned most about =Navajo ways and beliefs. She learned that the =Navajo hogan is a home but also a holy place that must be built in the right way, just as the =HolyPeople built the first hogans as examples for the =EarthPeople. Before the hogan can be lived in, it must be blessed with songs from the blessing ceremony, and the door-to every hogan must face east to catch into sleep, she could hear the yipping bark of a coyote somewhere far off in the darkness, but she was not afraid. =Lynn went to school at four different places on the reservation, but moving around did not cause a learning problem for her. She had grown up speaking both =Navajo and =English, and her 7English improved quickly in school. She made top grades everyplace, and when she finished elementary school, she received a scholarship to go to a mission school in a large town offf the reservation. That was the beginning of a new life in a new world for =Lynn. It was a lost interest in my work, and my grades began to slip. Mostly I dreaded hearing my parents argue with each other. They just couldn't get along, and that's why their marriage fell apart. "It was also hard not knowing any other children in the same situation. My friends acted as if I was weird. They couldn't understand what was going on in my life, but neither could I. A year and a half later, when =Dad told me he was marrying =Pat, I was relieved to be back in a family. I thought he and =Pat could make things work. In my mind, marriage was supposed to last. It was my parents who were strange for divorcing." Since his parents' separation and divorce, =Douglas and his older brother, =Daniel, have alternated homes each week. "When their marriage broke up, =Mom moved into her own apartment, while =Dad kept the house. Because they the hardest for me. I'm better adjusted to it than I was, but it's still confusing. "At =Dad's I live with three rowdy brothers, =Daniel plus my stepbrothers, =Owen and =Eric and our dog, =Rudy. There, my bedtime is eleven o'clock. When I go to =Mom's, I'm in a totally different atmosphere. Her house is so quiet with just the two of us, since =Daniel's usually off with his friends. Bedtime at =Mom's is ten o'clock. After having been at =Dad's, I'm not tired then, so for the first night or two, I have trouble falling asleep. When I finally get settled in, I have to move again." To make his life easier, =Douglas keeps clothing at both places. But each week he has to bring some extras, depending upon the weather or school activities. "It never fails that I forget one small thing and have to timed with the outside world too. Do you know what some of your biological rhythms are? Scientists have the same questions about human biological rhythms that they've had about the inner clocks of plants and animals. Even though your rhythms aren't as noticeable as plant and animal rhythms, they're there. And you can learn a great deal about them. This article has information on what people have found out about human cycles. There are also activities and experiments, so you can try out some of what scientists have learned firsthand. Here's a chance for you to take a look at your own inner timing. How is your own sense of time? Take a quick check. Try guessing what time you think it is right now. Don't look at a clock yet. First make your guess during the next several days. See how close their guesses are. Some people set an alarm clock at night to be sure they'll get up in the morning by a certain time. Do you? Lots of people have reported that they always seem to wake up just before the alarm goes off. Has this ever happened to you? Has it happened to people you know? Ask your parents. Check with other people who use alarm clocks; see if this is generally true or untrue for them. If it's true for them, ask how come they still keep on setting the alarm at night? Do you have a dog or a cat? If you do, try to observe their time sense. Some people notice that their pets seem to ask to be fed just about the same time every day. If you have a pet, check the times it shows-up around the kitchen sniffing for some supper. The C1ock as accurate as you think you ran. Now go and check the clock. How And then there was a sound.... =Rudi stood motionless. It was not the sound of the mountain, of falling rock and ice. It was a voice. He waited; he looked around him; every sense was straining. But he saw nothing. Nothing moved. It was his imagination, he thought: a trick of his mind, or of the stillness. Or was it-and now the cold finger of fear touched him again-was it the voice of a mountain demon? He stood without breathing. And the sound came again. It seemed at the same time to come from nearby and far away. He waited. Once more it came._ And then suddenly he knew where it came from. It was from beneath the ice. From a crevasse in the glacier. He approached the nearest crevasse and called out. But there was no answer. He went on to a second. No answer. Again he waited and listened. Again the voice came, faintly. Straight ahead was a third chasm in the ice, and, advancing cautiously, he peered over the edge. The crevasse was about six feet wide at the top and narrowed gradually as it went down. But how deep it was =Rudi could not tell. After a few feet the blue walls of ice curved away at a sharp slant, and what was below the curve was hidden from sight. "Hello!" =Rudi called. that allowed a person to walk inside, undetected, to the banana grove. When they were safely inside the banana grove, my grandfather realized that he had forgotten the bow and arrows and the bottle of poison. So my grandmother stole back into the house and retrieved the weapons. The bandits were still trying to smash through our very solid front door when she sneaked out of the house for the second time. She dipped one arrow in poison and crawled around to the front of the house near the bandits. But, upon second thought, she put the poisoned arrow aside and took another arrow and carefully aimed at the leg of the bandit leader. When the arrow hit his thigh the bandit let out a loud cry and fell backward. The night was so dark that none of the bandits knew where the arrow had come from. And moments later, friends started arriving and began to attack them from the road in front of our house. The bandits panicked and left in a hurry. But my grandmother spent the rest of the night with her family in the banana grove, just in case the bandits came back. hen my grandmother became older she felt sick once in a while. Before the arrival of the doctor, she would order everybody in the house to look sad. And during the consultation with the doctor she acted as if she were much sicker than she really was. My grandmother felt that she had to make herself "Where are you, frog?" she asked. The wind trumpeted as it blew over the rim of the pit. Sparks exploded somewhere above her; but she did not heed them. Instead she concentrated on dropping the weighted end of the net across the deepest part of the pool. So that she \ could pull it up, she draped the cords over the log. The shells held them in place. Next she tied one corner of the unweighted side to a fig root on the wall, the other to a sapling on the other side of the pit. The net was set. Squatting, she poised herself to grab the cords and yank. The frog would have to come to the sur face to breathe pretty soon, for he had been under a long time, and he was an air breather. With a swish, the sapling thrashed. =BillieWind grabbed the cords and pulled. Flopping in the net was a big large mouthed bass. "=Petang," she shouted. "We can live a long time down here, =Petang," she said. "We have a bed, a fireplace, a cooking bowl-and food." She slit the fish from anus to gills with her penknife, removed the entrails and saved them for bait to catch other fish. "=Petang," she said to the still-sleeping otter. "How do you suppose a fish got down in this pit? He can not crawl on land or fly. Did a bird drop him? Did an egg wash in on a flood? Did the little underground men bring \ him here?" She smiled. "Little underground men are very useful. They explain all nature's mysteries." Then a thought occurred to her and she glanced around the cave. "Do you suppose this was a fish pond for the ancients? Perhaps they brought them here eons ago. Perhaps a fish keeper lived in this cave. The =Calusa cultivated fish, you know." =Petang smelled the entrails in his sleep and came awake. Oh, well, I thought, it was probably empty, anyway. In fact, when we later looked at the video footage we had taken, we could see that the bottom of the safe had rusted out. Any treasure should have been spread around nearby, but there was none to be seen. Fortunately, my promise to myself not to bring back anything from the =Titanic was not put to the test. Two days passed before I went down to the =Titanic again. After the rest, I was raring to go at it once more. This time we were going to explore the torn-off stern section that lay =1970 feet away from the bow. It had been very badly damaged during the plunge to the bottom. Now it lay almost unrecognizable amidst badly twisted pieces of wreckage. We planned to land =Alvin on the bottom directly behind the stern section and then send =JJ in under the overhanging hull. Unless the =Titanic's three huge propellers had fallen off when she sank, I figured they still ought to be there, along with her enormous =101-ton rudder. We made a soft landing on the bottom and discovered that one of =JJ's motors wouldn't work. Our dive The dial and brass crest of this safe are still shiny. We turned the handle with =Alvin's mechanical arm. As the military threat from the north lessened, much of the wall was abandoned again. People living nearby started chipping away at it and removing stones to use in building houses and temples. Over time, long stretches of the wall-especially those made of earth-simply crumbled into dust. Other sections remained intact, however. During the war with =Japan in the =1930s, =Chinese soldiers marched to the northern front along the ancient brick road atop the wall. After the =Chinese =Communists took power in =1949, several sections of the wall were restored once more-not as a military fortification but as a historical monument. The restored section north of =Peking has become a major tourist attraction, visited each year by thousands of people from all over the world. It takes two hours to reach this restored section by train or bus. Suddenly, craggy mountains loom into view above the plain, and then the wall itself appears, curving over and around the mountains like a giant stone snake. From the parking lot, steep inclines lead up to watchtowers at both ends of the restored section. It's a hard climb, but the view from the towers is worth the effort. Gazing out at the wall as it winds away across the mountains, one can't help but be amazed at the simple fact that it's there. Besides its appeal as a tourist attraction, the wall is being used in other ways today. Scientists study it to learn the effects of earthquakes that occurred in the past. Archaeologists dig in and around it in search of tools and other objects from the time when it was built. And previously unknown sections are still being discovered. In =1983 archaeologists unearthed a sixty-two-mile segment, thus adding to the already incredible length of the =GreatWall of =China, truly one of the wonders of the world. Parapets along the =Great Wall. The great kings of =Egypt built large tombs and piled them high with treasures. Jewels, precious oils, gold chairs and thrones, bracelets, rings, statues-all this and much more was stored in these final resting places. Why did the kings hoard so much wealth in their tombs? It was because of their religion. Someday, they firmly Scarab bracelet from believed, the gods would King =Tuts tomb raise them from the dead. Also, they believed that they themselves were gods and would be wel comed into the land of the dead by their fellow gods. When that happened, they would need the things they had used in this world. But, in fact, the kings would be very poor indeed when they arrived in the other world. Through the centuries, grave thieves upset the royal plans and made off with the valuables buried in the tombs. The thieves had no respect for the dead kings. They did not care if the rulers got to the land of the gods or not. They only cared about looting the riches in the tombs. To get to the treasures, they had to dig through rock, break down huge doors, puzzle out mazes of passages that were found in the pyramids, and avoid traps that had been made to catch them. Often they bribed the guards to look the other way. The robbers did all this knowing that if they were caught, they would be horribly tortured and then put to death. Because of their greed, many priceless objects have been lost forever-golden statues melted down and sold, jewels removed from their settings, works of art destroyed. Earring from King =Tht's tomb "It's getting cold. Let me get my sweats back on." She slipped into her sweats and threw off her sweat bands. =Jose thought about asking to borrow, the sweatbands because he had worked up a lather of sweat. But his pride kept him quiet. =Estela served again and again until the score was seventeen to nothing and =Jose was ragged from running. He wished the game would end. He wished he would score just one point. He took off his shirt and said, "Hey, you're pretty good." =Estela served again, gently this time, and =Jose managed to return the ball, to the front wall. =Estela didn't go after it, even though she was just a couple of feet from the ball. "Nice corner shot," she lied. "Your serve." =Jose served the ball and, hunching over with his racket poised, took crab steps to the left, waiting for the ball to bounce off the front wall. Instead he heard a thunderous smack and felt himself leap like a trout. The ball had hit him in the back, and it stung viciously. He ran off the court and threw himself on the grass, grimacing from the pain. It took him two minutes to recover, time enough for =Estela to take a healthy swig from the bottle of =Gatorade in her sport bag. Finally, through his teeth, he muttered, "Good shot, =Stinger." "Sorry," =Estela said. "You moved into my lane. Serve again." =Jose served and then cowered out of the way, his racket held to his face for protection. She fired the ball back, clean and low, and once again she was standing at the service line calling, "Service." Finally, when we began eating dessert, sweet potato pie, Aunt =Letty made a little speech. "This is the first time we've been together as a family. I hope it won't be the last. The thing that made me call you all together was a letter I got a few months ago from =James there. He wanted to know if there was anything I could do to help his son =Raymond get to college. In case you haven't heard, =Raymond wants to be an airline pilot:' She paused. Some of her sisters and brothers-in-law caught their breaths and groaned sympathetically. "I know what you're thinking:' Aunt =Letty went on. "It's a terribly big dream for a young black man to have in =Tennessee. But I say why not? I say =Raymond ought to have his chance to follow his dream. I say 'that's what living is all about. I say chances are that ,young man will wind up in a foundry just like his father unless he gets that chance. And I say all the children in this family-the girls, too-should have their chance. Now none of us at the moment can afford to send anybody to college. It's terribly expensive. But if we stick together as a family, we can send them all, one or two at a time. =Confucius say, 'What one man find impossible, =seventeen men and women find simple. Aunt =Letty is fond of crediting the most unlikely wisdom to =Confucius. She went on to explain her idea for a fund. Each branch of the family would contribute to the fund every year. It would guarantee college for every child who dreamed of going. She didn't bother asking for a vote. She could tell from the looks on our faces-and from the tears in the women's eyes-that she was providing the answer to many prayers. Dear =Adam, This weekend it was your turn to meet the tribe twenty years after your daddy's introduction. Those fifteen friendly strangers who almost smothered you with affection are kinfolk-uncles, aunts, and cousins on your daddy's side of the family. You will meet them again and again over the years. As a rule, no children are brought to our annual reunions. So they went overboard for you. They were longing for their own youngsters hundreds of miles away in =Wisconsin, =Michigan, =Illinois, =Indiana, and =Tennessee. Why are children left out of our family reunions? Mainly because the purpose of the gathering is to plan what we can do for all the youngsters in our tribe. We discuss money, job contacts, or special arrangements for projected trips. We even transfer household items from a branch of the family that no longer needs them to the branch that needs them most. Your playpen and the clothes you have outgrown will soon be going to =Tennessee. As I've said before, this tradition began about twenty years ago. It was started by that round-faced, grayhaired woman who held you on her lap more than anyone else, Aunt Letty. She's the leader of our tribe. She is also my favorite aunt. Aunt =Letty is sixty-two years old now, though she doesn't look it. In her spare time she runs a free school in the =Detroit ghetto, where she lives by choice. She encourages black youngsters and helps them with their studies. "There are new opportunities opening up all the time:' Aunt =Letty is fond of saying. "But =Confucius say, 'Opportunity empty if no one prepared to seize it: " Aunt =Letty always speaks her mind. =Confucius is her way of softening the impression that she is giving =Jean is a voung =American who loves the =UnitedStates even though she lives in =China. Read so fad out how that viewpoint gas =Jean into trouble. In my father's study there was a large globe with all the countries of the world running around it. I could put my finger on the exact spot where I was and had been ever since I'd been born_ And I was on the wrong side of the globe. I was in =China in a city named =Hankow, a dot on a crooked line that seemed to break the country right in two. The line was really the =Yangtse' River, but who would know by looking at a map what the =Yangtse River really was? Orange-brown, muddy, mustard-colored. And wide, wide, wide. With a river smell that was old and came all the way up from the bottom. Sometimes old women knelt on the riverbank, begging the River God to return a son or grandson who may have drowned. They would wail and beat the earth to make the River God pay attention, but I knew how busy the River God must be. All! those people on the =Yangtse River! Coolies hauling water. Women washing clothes_ Houseboats swarming with old people and young, chickens and pigs. Big crooked-sailed junks with eyes painted on their prows so they could see where they were going. I loved the =Yangtse River, but, of course, I belonged on the other side of the world. In =America with my grandmother. =Twenty free fluffy little yellow chicks hatched from our eggs today, my grandmother wrote I wrote my grandmother that I had watched a =Chinese magician swallow three yards of fire. The trouble with living on the wrong side of the world was that I didn't feel like a real =American. Actually, I was =American every minute of the day, especially during school hours. I went to a =British school and every morning we sang "=GodSavetheKing." Of course the =British children loved singing about their gracious king. =IanForbes stuck out his chest and sang as if he were saving the king all by himself. Everyone sang. Even =GinaBoss who was =Italian. And =Vera =Sebastian who was so =Russian she dressed the way =Russian girls did long ago before the Revolution when her family had to run away to keep from being killed. But I wasn't =VeraSebastian. I asked my mother to write an excuse so I wouldn't have to sing, but she wouldn't do it. "When in =Rome;' she said, "do as the =Romans do." What she meant was, "Don't make trouble. Just sing:' So for a long time I did. I sang with my fingers crossed but still I felt like a traitor. Then one day I thought: If my mother and father were really and truly in =Rome, they wouldn't do what the =Romans did at all. They'd probably try to get the =Romans to do what they did, just as they were trying to teach the =Chinese to do what =Americans did. (My mother even gave classes in =American manners.) So that day I quit singing. I kept my mouth locked tight against the King of =England. Our teacher, Miss =Williams, didn't notice at first. She stood in front of the room, using a ruler for a baton, striking each syllable hard as if she were making up for the times she had nothing to strike. Uses for microchips. Most were hardly imagined only a few years ago. People can use microchips to solve an almost any number of problems or to do many jobs. Therefore, they are one of the most important inventions of our time. The Future of Microchips People who make microchips are still trying to put more and more circuit lines and transistors onto each sliver. By creating chips that can do more, engineers will make new computers that will be easier for people to use. These "user friendly" computers will be able to respond to spoken commands. They will even be able to distinguish one person's voice from another. I Scientists will be able to store much more information inside the microchips of the future. Computers made with these chips will be able to do things that today's computers cannot do. For example, tomorrow's computers will be able to translate back and forth between languages such as =Japanese (which uses thousands of different characters) and =English (which uses the alphabet). Some scientists are working on new kinds of electronic switches. One kind works at very high speed when kept very cold. These switches can change from OFF to ON more than a billion times in one second (Imagine flipping a light switch that fast!) Chips made with these switches could bring about supercomputers that carry out =60 million instructions each second. This is ten times faster than today's best computers. circuit lines that are less t an one-hundredth of a human hair. By the =mid-1990's, a single chip may contain all of the circuits of a modern closet-sized supercomputer. Microchips have already brought about astonishing changes. In the years to come, chips will be more powerful than ever. They will help us in ways we can hardly imagine today, and people will use microchips in many new ways to increase their knowledge and improve their lives. Microchips continue to become more capable and more complex. =Chaudron had worked as a restorer, repairing old and damaged paintings. He was not a creative painter, but he was an excellent copyist. He moved into forging. Supposedly, the Marques and =Chaudron sold forged paintings to rich =Americans and gave them forged documents proving their authenticity. This began to seem like small potatoes after a while, and the Marques began to dream of the crime of a lifetime-no, the crime of the century. "Could you sell somebody a forged =MonaLisa?" he wondered. "Would anybody buy a forged =MonaLisa and believe he had the real thing?" The Marques claimed he did sell somebody a copy of the =MonaLisa, telling his =American client that the picture hanging in the =Louvre was a copy that had been substituted. (=French newspapers inadvertently helped him along by running stories about a rumor that a copy had been substituted for the real =MonaLisa.) The Marques decided that collectors were so greedy that it didn't matter what you told them, as long as they thought they were getting-a bargain. In fact, he decided that he and =Chaudron would sell not one but several =MonaLisas. He had =Chaudron make six copies. Artists were free to go to the =Louvre and copy any painting, its long as they didn't make the copy the same size as the original. So =Chaudron made one small copy of the =MonaLisa in the =Louvre, and then he went home to his studio and turned out six copies the same size as the real =MonaLisa. He sawed up an antique =Italian bed to get old walnut to paint on. As =Chaudron finished the copies, the Marques shipped each one to a partner in =America. He had no trouble getting the paintings through customs. There is no law against selling copies as long as you don't claim they are the originals. Now came the hard part. The Marques had six =MonaLisas safely in =America. If a buyer could be convinced that one of the forged paintings was the real thing, he or she would be willing to pay a fortune for it. However, to make a buyer think that he or she was getting the original, it was necessary for the real =MonaLisa to be stolen from the =Louvre. The theft of the =MonaLisa would cause a worldwide sensation and would help persuade gullible buyers that they had an opportunity of a lifetime-an opportunity to own the world's most famous masterpiece. Each buyer, of course, would be sworn to secrecy. No one would be likely to disclose the purchase in any case. But how on earth could someone steal the =MonaLisa? It was =France's most valuable painting, =France's celebrated treasure. It was kept under glass in a guarded room at the =Louvre. No one could steal the =MonaLisa. "Oh, yes, someone could' the Marques said. He located a man named =VincenzoPeruggia who had once worked in the =Louvre. =Peruggia knew all the nooks and crannies of the museum, the back stairways, cleaning closets, courtyards, and side entrances. =Peruggia, who had been present not long before when the painting had been taken down to get a new frame, said the picture was too heavy for one person to lift. =Leonardo had painted the =MonaLisa on a heavy wooden panel an inch and a half thick, =20 by =30 inches, which weighed =18 pounds. Furthermore, it was braced against . J The Day That Noon Showed Up on Time by =WilliamHEarle As noon approached on Sunday, November =18, =1883, a group of somber people gathered in a telegraph office. They studied the massive pendulum clock on the wall and listened to the long-and-short clicking of the messages arriving or departing over the wires. The office might have been in any major =American city. Suddenly the sound of the instruments changed. The clicking took on a staccato rhythm. The operators immediately stopped working. The expectant crowd around them tensed. In a few seconds, the staccato clicking gave way to a regular pattern that repeated itself again and again. To the trained ear, it spelled out four letters: =time. That single word continued to arrive for =20 or =30 seconds. Then the rhythm changed again. One click-per-second for =50 seconds. Then =10 seconds of silence, followed by one click-per-second again for another =50 seconds. Finally, =10 more seconds of silence, followed by a final click. Jokes and wisecracks erupt as each of the men in the crowd finished setting the pocket watch in his hand. The operators returned to work. Their visitors departed. What they had witnessed was the birth of standard time and the death of one of more than =50 time zones that had existed in the =UnitedStates when the sun rose that morning. By sunset on November =18, =1883, only =4 time zones were left. A Patchwork Quilt of Time Zones The time map of America that emerged from the events of that Sunday more than =100 years ago was basically the same system of time zones we use today. Less familiar is the time map before that Sunday in =1883. It was a patchwork quilt of more than =56 irregularly shaped time zones. Until then, each community had determined its town time by observing the location of the sun in the sky. Sundials divided the daylight hours. The next day, in his tiny office at the newspaper, =Peter was unusually absent-minded. He opened letters from readers who sent him puzzles, scarcely reading them. If he could only talk to someone-another puzzle fan, perhaps-who could give him a fresh viewpoint. Absently he opened a letter and looked at it. It was a cryptogram-quite a good one. It was signed, Submitted by =DonnaMagrue. =Peter did a double take. =DonnaMagrue! Why, that was Detective =Magrue's daughter, and she was a puzzle fan! The puzzle editor noted the street address, grabbed his derby and cane, and almost ran from his office. A taxi took him to the address in ten minutes. A tall, perky girl was raking leaves in the front yard. =Peter hurried up the walk. "=DonnaMagrue?" he asked. "Why, hello, Mr =Perkins," the girl said. "I recognize you from your picture in the paper. Did you get the cryptogram I sent you?" "Yes, and I'm going to use it," =Peter said. "But I'm here about something much more important." He swiftly told =DonnaMagrue all about =FritzSandoz and the wrong clocks. "So you see," he finished, "I'm positive he was trying to leave a message when he changed the hands of those clocks. Look, here's a sketch I made." He showed =Donna the sketch of the wrong clocks. =Peter said, "=Fritz was an expert in codes and he probably expected me to be able to read this one because he knew I'd understand he was trying to leave us a message. I can't see any way to crack a code with so few letters. Maybe you can see something I missed." "I bet it is a code." =Donna sat down on the porch steps and =Peter sat down beside her. They both studied the drawing. At last =DonnaMagrue looked up. "You know," she said, "these clock hands make me think of semaphore flags spelling out a message. I suppose that's really wild, but . Summarize A summary is a short account that tells the main idea and other important points of a story or an article. Summarizing is a valuable skill for you to learn for several reasons. First, it helps you to understand the material that you have read. Second, it helps you to remember the important ideas in that material. Third, a summary is an excellent study aid when you are reviewing material for a test. Before you write a summary, read the selection carefully Make sure that you understand what you have read. Find the definitions of any words that are unfamiliar to you. Remember that a topic is what a paragraph or a whole selection is about and a main idea is the most important information given about the topic.-You will understand what you read better if you identify the topics and the - main ideas Next, look for other important points the author makes. Remember, a summary is shorter than the original selection, so you will want to record only key facts. Leave out the nonessential information, such as descriptive details and examples. You may decide to leave in a few details that seem important. You may choose to write a summary in your own words by restating what the author has said. However, you must be careful not to change the author's meaning. This will The kayak, a small canoe used only by =Eskimo men, was made with whalebone or wooden frames that were covered with animal skins, generally from whales or seals. . =Eskimo males used canoes called kayaks, made mainly from sea-animal skins. The second sentence is a summary. In some ways, a summary is like a telegram. It has to be concise and to the point, but there should be enough information so that the message is clearly understood. How long should your summary be? That depends on the number of key facts in the original selection. If you are summarizing a whole textbook chapter, you may need four or more paragraphs to include all the important information. If you ate summarizing a newspaper article, you may need only one paragraph. As you read a selection, look for information you would include in a summary. Ask yourself these questions: What is the topic of the selection? What is the main idea? How many other important points are there? What are those key points? As you read the following article, try to identify the topic-what the selection is about. Then ask yourself, What we the most important points the author makes about this? Polar bears are well adapted to life in the harsh =Arctic climate. These hunters, among shall come to take over your village: The young lord hurried once more to his wise men, but they all shook their heads in bewilderment. A needle cannot bend its way through such curves," the moaned. "Again we are faced with an impossible task." "And again you are stupid fools!" the lord said, stamping his foot impatiently. He then posted a second notice in the village square asking the villagers for their help. Once more the young farmer hurried with the problem to his mother in her secret room. "Why, that is not so difficult;' his mother said with a quick smile. "Put some sugar at one end of the hole. Then, with it." "Mother, you are remarkable!" the son cried, and he hurried off to the lord with the solution to the second problem. Once more the lord commended the young farmer and rewarded him with many pieces of gold. "You are a brilliant man. You have saved our village again;' the lord said gratefully. However, the lord's troubles were not over even then, for a few days later Lord =Higa sent still another task. This time you will undoubtedly fail and then I shall take over your village;' he threatened. "Bring me a drum that sounds without being beaten." "But that is not possible;' sighed the people of the village. "How can anyone make a drum sound without beating it?" This time the wise men held their heads fn their hands and moaned, "It is hopeless. It is hopeless. This time Lord =Higa will conquer us all," The young farmer hurried home breathlessly. "=Mother, =Mother, we must solve another terrible problem or Lord =Hip will take over our village!" Then he quickly told his mother about the impossible drum. His mother, however, smiled and answered, "Why, this is the easiest of them all. Make a drum with sides of paper and put a bumblebee inside. As it tries to escape, it will buzz and beat itself against the paper and you will have a drum that sounds without being beaten." &&000 &&000 USA SCHOOLBOOKS [US906SV.TXT] SILVER BURDETT GINN 1991 6TH GRADE Xeroxed, SCANNED, OCR'D AND EDITED BY DPH 27 JUNE 2004 &&111 drab waistcoat from which a heavy brass watch chain and a square bit of metal dangled. A frayed top hat and faded brown overcoat with a wrinkled velvet collar lay on a chair beside him. Altogether, there was nothing very remarkable about the man except his blazing red head! =SherlockHolmes' quick eye soon took in my occupation. Answering my thoughts, he said, "Beyond the obvious, that he has done manual labor at some time, that he has been in =China, and that he has done a considerable amount of writing lately, I can deduce nothing at all." With that, Mr =JabezWilson started up in his chair. His forefinger was still on the newspaper column, but his eyes were set on my companion. "How did you know all that, Mr =Holmes?" he asked. "How did you know, for example, that I did manual labor? It's true as Gospel, for I began as a ship's carpenter!" "Your hands, my dear sir. Your right hand is a size larger than your left. You have worked hard with it and so the muscles are more developed. " "Well, the writing then?" "What else can be indicated by your right coat-cuff being so very shiny and your left coat-elbow so very smooth, where you must rest it on the desk." "And =China?" "The fish you have tattooed above your right wrist could only have been done in =China. I have made a small study of tattoo marks and have even contributed to literature on the subject. That trick of staining the fish scales a delicate pink is quite peculiar to =China. When in addition I see a =Chinese coin hanging from your watch chain, the matter becomes even more simple. " Mr =JabezWilson laughed heartily. "Well, I never!" he said. "I thought at first that you were very clever, but now I see there was nothing to your deductions after all!" =Holmes turned toward me. "I begin to think, =Watson, that I make a mistake explaining my reasoning. I must protect my reputation!" Then turning back to his client he said, "Can you find the advertisement?" "Yes, I have it now," =Wilson answered, his thick red finger planted halfway down the column. "Here it is. This is what began it all. You can read it for yourselves." I took the paper from him and read the following words: all that much difference between seeing and imagining. In the end you might say the two was one and the same thing." "You mean that if a thing feels real, it is?" "Something like that," he said. =Kate drank her tea and stared at him over the top of her cup. There was something she meant to ask him, something that was at the very tip of her tongue but she couldn't quite remember. He too sat sipping his tea, and just then the electric light suddenly paled as a shaft of sunlight flooded the little room. "The sun's out!" =Kate cried. "And I wanted to skate again! We go tomorrow. If I don't see them today, I never shall!" "Gone for five years you'll be, you say?" "Yes. But I'll tell you this. If I don't see them, I'll come back. The minute we get back from =Canada I'll come straight down here and..." She broke off. He was shaking his head. "You'll be five years older," he said. "What of it?" "And they won't." Suddenly she saw what he meant. Their time was standing still, but hers was still moving. She was not playing an endless game of ball in a gilt frame and waiting for an echo to bring her back to life. She stood up. "I'll have to be going." He went with her into the hall and suddenly she remembered the question she had been going to ask him. "What did you mean when you said you knew they were down there, Mr =Whittaker? You said, `Nobody knows it better than me.' What did you mean, please?" He looked up at the picture and that, too, was bathed in sunshine now, kindling the dark oils, bringing the two children forward out of their dark background. "I knew by that," he said. She stared at him. She half thought she knew what he was going to tell her, but it seemed impossible. He jerked his head toward the picture. the day that I got mine a poacher ran off with it. I had hung my game bag on a tree while I was stalking, not knowing that the woods are full of thieving scoundrels. Came in for a lot of teasing on that account "Ah, =Joseph! Did you really shoot a bird or is it a tall tale?" Even Mr =Audubon, who saw me shoot the turkey, joined in the sport, for he is a great teaser. I was smarting from all of that and determined to get another one. Came a crisp morning, I set out. Mr =Audubon was busy painting, so I went with Captain =Aumack. We had fine luck, and by the middle of the afternoon we had each bagged a pair of turkeys. As we approached the boat, I hallooed and held up my prizes for everyone to see. I was rewarded by cheers from the sailors on the deck. Then wasn't I proud! But "Pride goes before a fall," says the Good Book. As we waded toward the boat, another flock of turkeys came from the woods. The crew began shooting at them from the boats, and one of the birds fell into the water quite near me. Like a good bird dog, I went to retrieve it from the water. Little did I know that the creature was only wounded. As I came on it, the turkey lunged at me and fetched me a good clap on the side of the head with its beak. Startled, I dropped my bag and tumbled backward into the shallows, where my head and a rock met with a hard how-de-do. The next thing I knew I was on the deck of the flatboat and some sailors were bending over me. Mr =A was there, looking worried, and so was Mr =Aumack, his face lit up apple-scarlet. I was spitting water like a well pump and feeling mighty dizzy. Nobody looked to be settling down to stay in one place, so I closed my eyes again. Didn't open them up until the following day. By this time I had a lump on my head the size of a potato and a pain to match. It has taken several days for my noggin to heal. I never did find out what happened to my turkeys. Burns me to think that someone else ate them. But there are plenty more wild turkeys a fine day because the sky is blue with a few light clouds floating across the sky. The sun casts shadows and the women are holding parasols to shield their faces from its rays. The slight ripples on the water, and the full sails on the boats in the distance tell us there is a gentle breeze. The breeze can also be seen blowing through the flags. There is much more to be learned by looking at the picture a little longer. It is apparent that the time of day is late afternoon because the shadows are long. And we can tell that the people know each other. They have been sitting together, and two of them got up from their chairs to walk to the edge of the terrace where they are having a conversation. We can also tell that it is the late =1860s by the style of clothing and by the combination of sailboats and steamboats in the distance. The steamboat had begun to take the place of the sailing ship, but large sailing vessels were still being used for transportation as well as for pleasure. =Sainte-Adresse is located on the =EnglishChannel that separates =England from =France. The artist focuses our attention on the man and woman School Experiences Like many =Native =American children who lived on reservations, =Pablita and =Patrick went to mission schools =Pablita in =SantaFe, =NewMexico, and =Patrick in =Redby, a village near his home in =Minnesota. They lived at the mission schools and rarely saw their families. They were not allowed to speak their own languages or to take part in activities related to their peoples' past, because the schools wanted them to give up their traditional ways. Both =Pablita and =Patrick, however, kept their love for their peoples' ways in their hearts. Later, =Pablita went to a government school in =SantaFe, where she was fortunate enough to meet =DorothyDunn, a teacher who was trying to revive =NativeAmerican art. Under =Dunn's guidance, =Pablita learned the principles of color. She experimented with traditional methods of grinding rocks and clay to make earth colors, and she used chalk and charcoal to paint =Pueblo scenes. One of her favorite subjects was the activities of =SantaClara women. Some of these paintings were shown in a school exhibit at the end of eighth grade. A woman who was preparing a mural for the =Chicago Exposition of =1933 saw =Pablita's paintings and selected one for the =New =Mexico =Exhibit. Soon after receiving this honor, =Pablita was asked to make a mural of =Pueblo life for a national art project. In his early years in school, =PatrickDesJarlait did not receive the kind of encouragement for his art that =PablitaVelarde received. =Patrick assumed he would make his living as a lumberer like his father, or in the fisheries. Still, he continued to have a strong interest in painting, drawing, carving, and woodwork. Finally, one of his high school teachers, Miss =Ross, recognized his talent. "Some day I want to hear great things about you," she told him. She gave him art supplies and books, and her interest in the =Chippewa way of life freed =Patrick to explore his people's past. her, analyzing its potential to be shaped into a plug. Her hat? No, the straw fibers were too loosely woven; water would pour through them. Her flippers? She could cut one up and fit the piece of rubber into the hole. But the rubber wouldn't stay; it would float free. The glass faceplate of her mask? She had no way of securing it to the wood. Her mind evaluated every item and discarded it. And then, as she looked at the wood fibers, she saw beside them other fibers, closely woven though not as thick as the wood, and she had the answer: her dress. She could stuff her dress into the hole, and it would keep the water out. The fabric was already saturated with salt water, so no more could penetrate it. And packed tightly in a ball, the cloth fibers would bind and become nearly waterproof. She peeled the sodden shift up over her head, then ducked under the pirogue and, from the inside, packed the cloth into the hole. It made a tight plug-nothing that could survive a pounding in a heavy sea, but secure enough for an easy paddle on calm water. She ducked out again, hauled herself up onto the bottom, and reached over and grabbed the far edge. Bracing herself on one knee, she pulled, and there was a liquid sucking sound and a pop as the suction broke and the pirogue jumped free of the water and righted itself. It was still full of water, though; only an inch of freeboard stuck above the surface. Since the boat was a hollow log, it would not sink, but if =Paloma were to climb aboard, her weight would drive the pirogue's sides down flush with the surface. Every minuscule movement she made would tip the boat and allow more water to slosh aboard. She could not bail it out from inside. So she clung to one side with one arm, and with the other hand began methodically to splash water overboard. She forced herself not to be impatient, for she knew that this was what she was going to be doing for the next several Finally, reluctantly, everyone agreed to spend one more day in the laboratory and leave early the next night. But it was a hard decision, with freedom so near and everyone thinking as I did: "Suppose.... " Suppose Dr =Schultz grew suspicious and put locks on our cages? Suppose someone found our thread and pulled it out? (This was unlikely-the near end, tied to the spool, was six feet up the shaft, well hidden.) Just the same, we were uneasy. Then, just as we were ending our meeting, a new complication arose. We had been standing in a rough circle on the floor of the laboratory, just outside the two screen doors that enclosed the mice cages. Now, from inside the cabinet, came a voice: "=Nicodemus. " It was a clear but plaintive call, the voice of a mouse. We had almost forgotten the mice were there, and I was startled to hear that one of them knew my name. We all grew quiet. "Who's calling me?" I asked. "My name is =Jonathan," said the voice. "We have been listening to your talk about going out. We would like to go, too, but we cannot open our cages." As you can imagine, this caused a certain consternation, coming at the last minute. None of us knew much about the mice, except what we had heard Dr =Schultz dictate into his tape recorder. From that, we had learned only that they had been getting the same injections we were getting, and that the treatment had worked about as well on them as on us. They were a sort of side experiment, without a control group. =Justin was studying the cabinet. "Why not?" he said. "If we can get the doors open." Someone muttered: "They'll slow us down." "No," said the mouse Jonathan. "We will not. Only open our cages when you go, and we will make our own way. We won't even stay with you if you prefer." wife, stepped through the door. "Why, =Quickset, what are you doing here?" said she. "Have you gone into trade? And can that be Master =Grubble on the shelf? I swear he looks as if he's sitting on a basket of eggs." "Pay him no mind," whispered =Quickset. "He fancies himself a hen. An odd notion, but harmless. However, since Master =Grubble is busy nesting, I'm tending shop for him. So, Mistress =Libbet, how may I serve you?" "There's so much our little ones need." Mistress =Libbet sighed unhappily. "And nothing we can afford to feed them. I was hoping Master Grubble had some scraps or trimmings." "He has much better," said =Quickset, pulling down one of the juiciest hams and slicing away at it with =Grubble's carving knife. "Here's a fine bargain today: only a penny a pound." Hearing this, Master =Grubble was about to protest, but caught himself in the nick of time. Instead, he began furiously clucking and squawking: "What's that you say?" =Quickset glanced up at the agitated store. twice as big as this palace. The =RoyalMathematician says it is =300'000 miles away, and half the size of this kingdom." The Court jester strummed on his lute for a little while. "They are all wise men," he said, "and so they must all be right. If they are all right, then the moon must be just as large and as far away as each person thinks it is. The thing to do is find out how big the Princess =Lenore thinks it is, and how far away." "I never thought of that," said the King. "I will go and ask her, Your Majesty," said the Court Jester. And he crept softly into the little girl's room. The Princess =Lenore was awake, and she was glad to see the Court jester, but her face was very pale and her voice very weak. "Have you brought the moon to me?" she asked. "Not yet," said the Court jester, "but I will get it for you right away. How big do you think it is?" "It is just a little smaller than my thumbnail," she said, "for when I hold my thumbnail up at the moon, it just covers it." "And how far away is it?" asked the Court Jester. "It is not as high as the big tree outside my window," said the Princess, "for sometimes it gets caught in the top branches." "It will be very easy to get the moon for you," said the Court Jester. "I will climb the tree tonight when it gets caught in the top branches and bring it to you." Then he thought of something else. "What is the moon made of, Princess?" he asked. "Oh," she said, "it's made of gold, of course, silly." &&000 &&000 USA SCHOOLBOOKS [US906SF.TXT] 6TH grade SCOTT FORESMAN 1993 Xeroxed at Elmira College, scanned, OCR'd and edited by dph 30 June 2004 &&111 picked him up. fuzzy and warm, and kissed his soft neck. "Come here," she said and walked to the first drop-off. The flashlight on her belt found foot camps. She climbed to the first landing and sat with her back pressed securely against the wall as she threaded the end of the cord ball into =Windy's jesses. Then she set the old owl on a rock and unlooped about one hundred feet of string from the ball. Her feeling of elation was rising in triumph as she called out, "Whistle for =Windy!" There was a long silence from below. Water rushed and splashed in some unlighted river. Then =Don cried, "Are you nuts. Get down here! here! =Rod's hurt. We need that rope rope rope." "Call him, please!" she screamed. There was another silence. Finally the =Windy whistle bounced up among the rocks. The. big owl stood in the darkness and shook. He listened, swung his head around in an enormous circle, and peered into the cave night. =June knew what his eyes were doing. Last summer she and =Rod had played with him night after night with flashlights. In the dark the pupils of his eves were so large they covered the iris as they took in the light that =June and =Rod would never know. When the lights went on the pupils became pinpoints so rapidly they could hardly see the owl eye adjust to the light. =June knew that many poor families with more children than they could afford to feed. Such families were glad to apprentice one of their small sons to a master sweep for five years in return for two or three pounds-about five to eight dollars. The smallest and healthiest boys brought the highest prices. Some master sweeps did not pay for their apprentices. Instead they kidnapped them from schoolyards and churchyards, or off the streets, and dragged them away to distant parts of the city. It might be years before a kidnapped boy managed to escape and find his way back home again. If they had children of their own, master sweeps often used them to clean chimneys. Sometimes a master would send one of his little daughters up an especially narrow flue, since girls were usually smaller than boys. As more masters broke the law and bought or kidnapped little children, =English people began to think of chimney sweeps as criminals. They continued to hire master sweeps to clean their chimneys, but they watched with suspicion every move they and their apprentices made while at work in the people's houses. In =Germany at the beginning of the =1800s, few children were employed as sweeps, and most adult chimney sweeps were still treated with respect. In =England, however, they were thought to be little better than beggars. They Sometimes when I walk alone, I begin to loosen up for writing. As I walk. I let myself think about all kinds of ideas. I relax with the words inside my head. I listen to them and play with them. As I walked. I started thinking about being bilingual. about how lucky I am to speak =English and =Spanish. I thought that words were like all the leases 1 was seeing. They come in many shapes and sizes. They move freely through the air. Somehow I started thinking about confetti and how it swirls. I thought. "Someday. I'm going to write a book of poems for young readers and title it Confetti. Confetti is free and varied. It means good times and laughter.' I thought about throwing confetti. about how it feels to take a handful of color and toss it into the air. Then I thought about what it feels like to toss words into the air, in =English and =Spanish. I started thinking about how words taste in my mouth. Does that seem like a silly thought? Sometimes we need what may seem like silly thoughtsthey're really unusual thoughts to be able to write or say or draw an interesting idea. We have to trust our curiosity. I like the sound of words, so once I have an idea for a poem or story. I begin to put words together to hear how they sound together. That afternoon I played a sound game as I walked, trying combinations to keep the poem from being limp and boring. I liked the sound and the mental picture, for example, of "plump plums." I liked the way the words felt in my mouth when I said them: "plump plums.' I'm also interested in the rhythm of a poem. Today not all poems rhyme or have a set beat as they once did. but most of the poems I like have rhythm. I remembered games that began. "Say. say. say... and I tucked that rhythm into the poem I was beginning to write. I decided it was time to As the last days of August disappeared, so did the number of braceros. Sunday, only one-the best picker-came .to work. I liked him. Sometimes we talked during our half-hour lunch break. That is how I found out he was from =Jalisco, ` the same state in =Mexico my family was from. That Sunday was the last time I saw him. When the sun had tired and sunk behind the mountains, Ito signaled us that it was time to go home. "=Yaesora,"' he yelled in his broken =Spanish. Those were the words I waited for twelve hours a day, every day, seven days a week, week after week. And the thought of not hearing them again saddened me. As we drove home =Papd did not say a word. With both hands on the wheel, he stared at the dirt road. My older brother, =Roberto, was also silent. He leaned his head back and closed his eyes. Once in a while he cleared from his throat the dust that blew in from outside. Yes, it was that rime of year. When I opened the front door to the shack, I stopped. Everything we owned was neatly packed in cardboard boxes. Suddenly I felt even more the weight of hours, days, weeks, only graffiti artist in the =Bronx who works from a wheelchair. The =Raven says his sitting position gives him an advantage because it puts him a couple of feet below where most of the other kids have used up blank wall space. The =Raven does not draw on buses or subway -cars or houses where people live. He says he is an urban artist who specializes in making the Bronx more beautiful, so mostly he decorates the walls of abandoned buildings. There are lots of those in our part of the =Bronx. The =Raven is his graffiti name. It's also what he likes to be called. Sean is his real name, but he hasn't answered to it since he got his first spray can. The =Raven is a major fan of =EdgarAllanPoe, the famous =Bronx poet. The =Raven took his name from one of =Poe's popular poems. Now that The =Raven is allowed to travel around the =Bronx alone, he visits =PoePark and =PoeCottage at least once a month. The =Raven's never been able to walk, but he gets around faster than any kid I've ever seen. He has racing wheels on his chair and always wears fingerless leather gloves so he can do wheelies or take off at top speed whenever he wants to. The =Raven can go from a dead standstill to thirty miles an hour in less than ten seconds. He's faster than some cars in the neighborhood. The =Raven's arms are very strong. He is the only kid on the block who can catch and hold on to =Calvin when =Calvin starts to run. here was little time to, look at it. Nor could they see much in the town, a medley of mud-built huts and stone dwellings, touched through the heat with the dank smell of the sea. At some high-pillared gates the pirate left them, and they saw the gleam of gold between him and the stranger. "A slave dealer," whispered =Tirus, and as the pirate swaggered off, they looked after him in sad silence. Even he, who had torn them from their homes, was now something familiar to cling to. "In," shouted the dealer, and they understood him. Through the pillars was a vast open space. People of every color crowded it, black as night and every shade of brown, and through to strange fair ones with hair of golden silk and skin as pale as flowers. They could not stare, however amazed. The man jerked them on and stopped them in the end on the fringe of a mass of children and old men and women, all herded in small groups by men like himself. "It is as you said, =Tirus," =Skira whispered, and then they all grew mute, watching people who moved among the captives, pinching here and shouting there, looking at their height and thinking how big they might grow; tossing others aside as they might toss a length of linen with a flaw. "Like my father would bargain for new goats," thought Lycus. &&000