English test

Write an essay where you discuss the many ways of looking at WALLS. Your essay should include paragraphs in all these areas:
- What is a wall (Introduction)
- How to build a wall ( materials and tools)
- Wher e you can find famous walls (name 6 walls)
- An example of a famous wall and its story ( Chinese Wall or any other wall)
- Walls within every human being ( mental barriers)
- Walls in literature ( write about one of the poems we have read, bring it to school)
- How you think walls will be built and used in the future ( conclusion)

Writing Frame example

Walls are everywhere,…….( real walls, mental walls, fire walls …..)

Walls are built from…..

One example of a famous wall is……

People also build walls in their minds.

In the poem …….

In future, people will build walls and tear down walls…..

How many types of walls are there? What are they made of? What can they be used for?

A How do you build a wall? Explain the process in your own way.

B Find out what these walls are used for: Find a wall that fascinates you and tell the story of the wall in words and pictures.

1) Hadrian's wall
2) The Berlin Wall
3) The Chinese wall
4) The Rio Grande border wall
5) The West Wall in Jerusalem
6) Ten West Bank Wall
7) The Vietnam veteran wall
8) Northern Ireland wall http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4TKabpZ6Qho

C Find your favorite graffiti or mural and explain what the message is.

1) Murals
2) Graffiti

D Write, tell or illustrate your own story called "An instane by the wall"

1) Innhold - show that you know something about the history of a certain wall
2) Structure - you can choose your own genre - story, video, fairytle, newspaper article, police report etc...
3) Language - try to use descriptive language. A language where you describe details using adjectives, adverbs etc. o give a very good idea of what you are saying.

E walls in literature- reading

Teen short story winner: Shattering the glass wall protecting a relationship

Posted by Gazette staff May 19, 2007 06:00AM

Categories: Community Literary Awardsexternal image small_0121355_4.jpgJohn Withee, Teen Short Story Winner.
John Withee, 17, won first place in the teen short story category in the 2007 Community Literary Awards competition, sponsored by the Kalamazoo Gazette, Kalamazoo Public Library, Portage District Library and area independent book sellers. John is the son of Deb and Bob Withee of Kalamazoo. He is a junior at Kalamazoo Christian High School. You can see more of John's work at his Web site, www.johnwithee.com.

It had run through his mind until it made him sick to his stomach. He had tried to quench the feeling. Unaware of the source of the pain, he first drank a soda, but to no avail. Then he ordered a pizza, but once it arrived and he paid the delivery boy, the smell repulsed him, and it went directly into the small freezer, eliminating the rest of the free space and crinkling the cardboard box. Still confused by his upset abdomen, he downed a swig of Pepto-Bismol and sat on the ratty couch in the middle of his apartment to once again contemplate the events of his very near future.
At about 2 p.m., his friends, Mike, Jame-o and Hawks, would give him a call asking him if he could come to the party that night. He'd decline while they harassed him and fouled his phone line with their filthy language. His excuse: he's busy with his girlfriend.
At 4 p.m., his mother would drop by with his laundry and hopefully some food -- any kind would do --scold him for not keeping his place clean and leave within the half-hour at his prodding.
And at 6 p.m., Kaleigh would arrive. He had his routine down in his mind. He stood and backed up against the wall, looking at his couch, looking into the future. He could see himself sitting there with her, consoling her and asking forgiveness, but it all seemed so foreign. It would be a whole new life for him with her gone. She'd been around for four years.
She'd arrive, excited for a night at the campus ice cream store where they had met for the very first time. Why, oh why, had he planned to take her there? It would make the situation so much worse. She'd be wearing her favorite lipstick; she'd have her flirty purse with her.
And another question ... why hadn't he told her sooner? He'd waited until the last minute. His excuses at first were that it probably wouldn't happen and that she shouldn't be worried. His next excuse, as his migration to Colorado became more and more concrete, was that she might even be able to come with him! It could be a getaway, an exciting adventure that they could face together. But even though he told himself this until he believed it, it wasn't true. She had a steady job, she had family, and she just wasn't the sort of girl who liked surprises or unexpected changes of plan.
He wrote to Sundown Press just for fun at first. He had sent applications and examples of his writing all over the United States,. In fact, she had seen some of the letters on the counter from those who had turned him down as a journalist. She hadn't been happy, and what she said had almost been prophetic: "What if they actually offer you a good job three states away? You'd feel bad turning them down. It's better not to know these kinds of things."
Something was wrong with her statement, however; it was an amazing job, not just a good one. Benefits, great pay, choice articles to work on, it was a dream come true for him. Not for her, though.
He had tried; he at least had that to his credit. Once while talking over coffee in the morning before they headed to classes, he had casually asked her if she would move with him, should he miraculously get a job in another state. She had laughed at him, dismissed the notion and changed the subject before he could pursue it. So he shrugged, took a sip of coffee, and decided that he would tell her later.
With a still sick stomach, he stood looking, grimacing at the couch where he would have to tell her. It seemed like a living timeline had laid itself before him with a white floor and white horizons extending forever in every direction. He could see himself picking up the phone to talk to the guys and beyond it, his mother, and beyond that, himself, sitting on the couch with Kaleigh.
He walked past the first two landmarks in this alternate reality, but as he approached the couch, he was stopped. He looked back at himself on the phone and his mother with the laundry, and then looked forward at Kaleigh, but he could progress no further from that point. He reached out his hand, but an invisible barrier separated him. He watched as her expression turned from joking disbelief to shock to utter despair. He could hear his friends cursing and his mother scolding, but of the conversation beyond, he could hear nothing.
And so he watched helplessly until, as if from another world, he heard a ringing. He blinked, and staring at the couch from the place next to the wall where he had been standing, he heard the phone ring again. He shook his head and walked behind the couch to the tiny kitchen of his apartment, picked up the phone, and cautiously muttered his greeting.
As suspected, it was his friends. He looked at the clock on the microwave; it was 1:30 p.m.
After relaying the rehearsed speech to Jame-o, who had so graciously put him on speakerphone, he hung up to their jeering.
His stomach ache had disappeared for a moment, but it returned as soon as he hung up and began to review his conversation with Kaleigh. There was no way around it, the vision he had seen was the only way to explain something like this to her, and if not the only way, it was by far the least cruel. What else could he do ... leave her a letter?
It was astounding how he still forgot some of his lines, but notecards were out of the question, unfortunately. It was a nightmare, a test he tried to study for, but would never be able to remember the answers once he sat down at his desk and picked up his pencil. Even now, after ages of assessment and evaluation, he always changed a word here or a sentence there in his mind. But he knew it was coming. He was hurtling toward 6 p.m., and there was no avoiding it. And for the first time, he became scared.
Was it worth this? It was a great job, but a job is nothing without someone to love. Maybe there'd be someone else in Colorado. But could he be sure of that? He wasn't even sure if he would ever marry Kaleigh, even if he hadn't gotten the job. He liked her a lot, but was a lot enough? Or did he need more before he was ready for commitment? It had been four years.
Of course it was worth this. It would be short and sweet, over in a single instant, and he would never have to see her again. With luck, he might not even have to see her cry.
Suddenly he was warped into the timeline once again, except now it held only two scenarios, his mother with the laundry and the scene playing on the couch. He only glanced at his mother before walking forward with purpose, only to bounce back from the barrier once again. He banged on it, and it gave a resounding note, but none of the characters, neither his figure on the couch, Kaleigh, nor his mother, seemed to notice it. The noise increased until he covered his ears, and then, then there was a knock on the door.
He looked at the clock, bewildered. How had so much time passed? It was already four and his mother had let herself in.
"Ben, you look like you've seen a ghost," he vaguely heard her say, and he heard himself reply, in just the same amount of haziness, "Don't be silly, mother," but his expression remained the same.
As she talked nonsense in the background, he sank into the couch and covered his face with his hands.
"I can't do it," he whispered to himself. He wasn't going to tell his mother until he was already in Colorado. That was already decided and it was easy. With Kaleigh it was different. He had to tell her because they were together. He was separate from his mother, and they had become distant over the years, but he had only grown closer to his girlfriend.
His mother left after asking if he was feeling sick and forcing him to down some aspirin tablets. He turned around, his hands on either side of his face, stretching it down in a sad, defeated look. She had left a loaf of banana bread on the counter.
He knew he had to do it, and he knew he would. So why worry any more? There was no need. He lay down on his back on the couch, sighed, and nudged the pillow that held his head in place. He closed his eyes.
And he arrived once more at his imaginary barrier. He knew he had to get past it, and he would, but how? He walked along the side of the barrier until he couldn't even see the couch anymore, but couldn't find any way around it. He walked back. He bent down and touched the ground, but it was hard and smooth and solid, and he had no shovel.
Coming to a realization, he looked at the watch on his wrist. It was five minutes past 6 p.m. No! I have to go through tonight! He thought desperately.
And it was then that he realized the truth. Through was the only way. There was no other alternative than the exact routine that he had practiced. He had to do it, he would do it, and the sooner he realized that he couldn't dodge this bullet, the better it would be for him, no matter how hard it was to finally cross the line.
He backed up from the wall about 20 steps, put his right elbow in front of him, and charged the barrier.
A resounding crash filled his mind, and he looked up to see the barrier falling and dropping shards of glass all around him. He covered his face with his hands and rushed through, unable to see anything.
He was awoken by a familiar touch. "Hey," said Kaleigh, rubbing his arm. Her flirty purse hung loosely from one elbow.
The dream came every now and then in Colorado, although less frequently with time. In it, more events had passed, but he could always walk back to that moment, and the closer he drew, the louder the sound of falling glass became. For the next few years, he would constantly ask himself if the glass would ever stop falling.

Mending Wall by Robert Frost

Something there is that doesn't love a wall,
That sends the frozen-ground-swell under it,
And spills the upper boulders in the sun;
And makes gaps even two can pass abreast.

The work of hunters is another thing:
I have come after them and made repair
Where they have left not one stone on a stone,
But they would have the rabbit out of hiding,
To please the yelping dogs. The gaps I mean,
No one has seen them made or heard them made,
But at spring mending-time we find them there.

I let my neighbor know beyond the hill;
And on a day we meet to walk the line
And set the wall between us once again.
We keep the wall between us as we go.
To each the boulders that have fallen to each.
And some are loaves and some so nearly balls
We have to use a spell to make them balance:
'Stay where you are until our backs are turned!'
We wear our fingers rough with handling them.
Oh, just another kind of outdoor game,
One on a side. It comes to little more:

There where it is we do not need the wall:
He is all pine and I am apple orchard.
My apple trees will never get across
And eat the cones under his pines, I tell him.
He only says, 'Good fences make good neighbors.'
Spring is the mischief in me, and I wonder
If I could put a notion in his head:
'Why do they make good neighbors? Isn't it
Where there are cows? But here there are no cows.

Before I built a wall I'd ask to know
What I was walling in or walling out,
And to whom I was like to give offense.
Something there is that doesn't love a wall,
That wants it down.' I could say 'Elves' to him,
But it's not elves exactly, and I'd rather
He said it for himself. I see him there
Bringing a stone grasped firmly by the top
In each hand, like an old-stone savage armed.
He moves in darkness as it seems to me,
Not of woods only and the shade of trees.
He will not go behind his father's saying,
And he likes having thought of it so well
He says again, 'Good fences make good neighbors.'

E Persons and walls

Tom Robinson Band. Back against the wall ( youth rebellion)
Chris the Burgh Wall of Silence (relationships)
Atlanta Rhytm Section Back up against the wall ( Criminality)

Ceaucescu family.
Josua of Jerico ( walls came tumbling down)