Mr. Fornnarino's English 2, Practice Quiz 15

This space contains reference material beginning next to Question 13.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

To answer Questions 13-18, please read the following passage from Chapter 11 of Chinua Achebe’s Things Fall Apart. Choose the best responses to the prompts next to each passage. There is one and only one correct answer to each prompt.

 

Chapter 14, pages 133-135

“‘Can you tell me, Okonkwo, why it is that one of the commonest names we give our children is Nneka, or Mother is Supreme? We all know that a man is the head of the family and his wives do his bidding. A child belongs to its father and his family and not to its mother and her family. A man belongs to his fatherland and not to his motherland. And yet we say Nneka -- Mother is Supreme. Why is that?’...

 

‘I do not know the answer,’ Okonkwo replied...

 

"‘Then listen to me,’ [Uchendu] said and cleared his throat. ‘It's true that a child belongs to its father. But when a father beats his child, it seeks sympathy in its mother's hut. A man belongs to his fatherland when things are good and life is sweet. But when there is sorrow and bitterness he finds refuge in his motherland. Your mother is there to protect you. She is buried there. And that is why we say that mother is supreme. Is it right that you, Okonkwo, should bring to your mother a heavy face and refuse to be comforted? Be careful or you may displease the dead. Your duty is to comfort your wives and children and take them back to your fatherland after seven years. But if you allow sorrow to weigh you down and kill you they will all die in exile.’ He paused for a long while. ‘These are now your kinsmen.’ He waved at his sons and daughters.

 

‘You think you are the greatest sufferer in the world? Do you know that men are sometimes banished for life? Do you know that men sometimes lose all their yams and even their children? I had six wives once. I have none now except that young girl who knows not her right from her left. Do you know how many children I have buried--children I begot in my youth and strength? Twenty-two. I did not hang myself, and I am still alive. If you think you are the greatest sufferer in the world ask my daughter, Akueni, how many twins she has borne and thrown away. Have you not heard the song they sing when a woman dies?

 

For whom is it well, for whom is it well? There is no one for whom it is well.

 

I have no more to say to you.’ "

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

To answer Questions 19-24, please read the following passage from Chapter 17 of Chinua Achebe’s Things Fall Apart. Choose the best responses to the prompts next to each passage. There is one and only one correct answer to each prompt.

 

Chapter 17, Pages 152-153

“As Okonkwo sat in his hut that night, gazing into a log fire, he thought over the matter. A sudden fury rose within him and he felt a strong desire to take up his machete, go to the church and wipe out the entire vile and miscreant gang. But on further thought he told himself that Nwoye was not worth fighting for. Why, he cried in his heart, should he, Okonkwo, of all people, be cursed with such a son? He saw clearly in it the finger of his personal god or chi. For how else could he explain his great misfortune and exile and now his despicable son's behaviour? Now that he had time to think of it, his son's crime stood out in its stark enormity. To abandon the gods of one's father and go about with a lot of effeminate men clucking like old hens was the very depth of abomination. Suppose when he died all his male children decided to follow Nwoye's steps and abandon their ancestors? Okonkwo felt a cold shudder run through him at the terrible prospect, like the prospect of annihilation. He saw himself and his fathers crowding round their ancestral shrine waiting in vain for worship and sacrifice and finding nothing but ashes of bygone days, and his children the while praying to the white man's god. If such a thing were ever to happen, he, Okonkwo, would wipe them off the face of the earth.

 

Okonkwo was popularly called the "Roaring Flame." As he looked into the log fire he recalled the name. He was a flaming fire. How then could he have begotten a son like Nwoye, degenerate and effeminate? Perhaps he was not his son. No! he could not be. His wife had played him false. He would teach her! But Nwoye resembled his grandfather, Unoka, who was Okonkwo's father. He pushed the thought out of his mind. He, Okonkwo, was called a flaming fire. How could he have begotten a woman for a son? At Nwoye's age Okonkwo had already become famous throughout Umuofia for his wrestling and his fearlessness.

 

He sighed heavily, and as if in sympathy the smouldering log also sighed. And immediately Okonkwo's eyes were opened and he saw the whole matter clearly. Living fire begets cold, impotent ash. He sighed again, deeply.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

To answer Questions 25-29, please read the following analysis excerpt about Okonkwo in Chinua Achebe’s Things Fall Apart. Choose the best responses to the prompts next to each passage. There is one and only one correct answer to each prompt.

 

Many critics see Things Fall Apart as a book with two narrators, one that adheres to tradition, and another with more modern views.

 

In his essay, Wright plays off Neil McEwan's idea of the two narrative voices: the traditional/communal which dominates the first 2/3 of the book, and the individual/modern which takes over the last third.

 

He claims that Okonkwo's stubborn resistance and deep need to wipe out his father's memory "…are out of harmony with a society which is renowned for its talent for social compromise and which judges a man according to his own worth, not that of his father." (Wright, 78)

 

Okonkwo resists change so much that he can't even accept it in others. Wright claims that to the rest of his people, Okonkwo's recklessness and fanaticism is embarrassing. This is not as evident in the first 2/3 of the book, but in the modern narrator's voice, it becomes clearer how out of touch Okonkwo really is.

But not everyone sees the book as narrated by two distinct voices. It can also be seen as having a single narrator, whose tone changes and adapts over time. This would be a reflection of the Umofian society's gradual change and adaptation in order to survive. "The detached yet tolerant tone of the narrator creates this perspective, and acts as a most effective mediator between the individual and the community, between the present and the past." (Carroll, 33) In fact, Carroll points out that "…when the narrator begins to delve into the single mind we anticipate with foreboding an unpleasant turn of events." (Carroll, 34)

 

"Things Fall Apart." Things Fall Apart. Western Michigan University, n.d. Web. 02 Apr. 2017.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

To answer Questions 30-33, please read the following excerpt from Scott Mikula's "The Savoy." Choose the best responses to the prompts which appear next to each passage. There is one and only one correct answer to each prompt.

 

 

 

The Savoy
by Scott C. Mikula

“Them boys got magic in their feet,” Momma said, leaning out the window while I sat on the fire escape. “You best come inside now, Eugene. I wish God’d saw fit to put magic in your feet, but he didn’t, and I won’t have you frettin’ over something you can’t change.”

I hated when Momma said that. Why’d God put me right ’cross the street from the Savoy Ballroom, if he didn’t want me to dance? Why’d he have me born with a messed up leg just to fill my heart with rhythms I could never express?

I crawled in through the window, but my thoughts were still on the boys and girls down on Lenox Avenue. They had nothing but their own clapping for a beat, but they’d practice their dance moves till the ballroom opened. Frankie was the wildest of them, flipping the girl over his shoulder or catching her from a flying leap—always trying out some daring new “air step” to one-up the others.

Soon light from the windows of the second-floor ballroom would blaze into the night, the music would strike up, and the dancers would crowd inside. I heard that music near every night, but Momma couldn’t ever spare me the thirty cents to go to the Savoy myself.

That’s why I let Willa Mae talk me into sneaking in.

I beat out a rhythm on the kitchen table while Willa Mae worked on her footwork. She was one of the real dancers—one of those that practiced with Frankie down on the street—but she was my friend, too, and she put up with my handicapped leg. Sometimes we’d brave Momma’s consternation and push all the living room furniture aside so we could try out some moves. But today my leg ached, so I just watched Willa Mae step, step, triple-stepping to the drumming of my hands.

“Don’t you want to try dancing to a real swing band?” she called. Sweat clung to her face, but she didn’t stop moving. “If we get there after the bands set up, we can sneak in the delivery entrance on 141st.”

Willa Mae was poor like me, and I knew she’d snuck in more than once herself. Momma would be working till late, and we probably wouldn’t get caught.

“It’s Benny Goodman tonight, battlin’ Chick Webb for King of Swing.”

Benny Goodman and Chick Webb! I’d only heard Goodman’s big band orchestra on our tinny old Victrola. His drummer was the best, maybe. But against Chick? My mind was made up.

The delivery entrance was halfway down a side street. Willa Mae waved for me to follow as she tried the handle on one of the double doors. Sure enough, it was unlocked.

“Hey, you kids!” I froze. Willa Mae’s eyes went wide. Leaning against a parked car was one of the bandmen, a portly man in a suit and tie. “You aren’t supposed to—”

That’s all I heard before Willa Mae yanked me through the door. “C’mon, Gene!”

I stumbled after her as we ran down a long hallway. Tantalizing music filtered through the floor from upstairs, but my heart was beating so fiercely I could hardly hear it.

“I thought you said no one’d be around,” I panted.

“I got us in, didn’t I?”

Willa Mae led me up a dim staircase to the main hall.

Everyone knew music at the Savoy never stopped, but I’d always wondered how the band could play all night without a break. The answer was two bands, on side-by-side bandstands. As Chick’s band wound down, Benny’s musicians jumped in, eager to prove they could swing harder and faster. I saw the bandman from outside slip in behind the drums.

I grinned at Willa Mae. “Dance?”

Shyly at first, I took Willa Mae’s hand and put my other arm around her back. Then the music swept us up, and we were dancing. I’d done the steps before at home, but it’s something else entirely when the horns are blaring their solos and the floor is vibrating under your feet. I was in heaven, and that band was my choir of angels!

But my angels had it in for me that night. Those bandmen played faster and harder, like their very souls were on the line, and my leg couldn’t keep up. It crumpled. I landed hard on my tailbone.

“Man,” said a voice, “I never seen a butt planted on the floor quite like that.” Frankie stood in front of me, all lanky arms and legs. He offered me a hand, but I knew the rest of his gang must be laughing at me.

Tears stung my eyes, but I was more furious than in pain. I swatted Frankie’s hand away, and stalked off to find a table.

Willa Mae watched me go, but I wouldn’t meet her eye. Soon enough I saw her dancing with Frankie, and that only made me madder. He swung her out, and she twisted her hips with practiced grace, earning some whoops from the crowd. Frankie, made Willa Mae look like a queen. Why'd she ever put up with my clumsy dancing?

I should’ve been able to dance like that. I could see Frankie’s feet, almost a blur, and the syncopated rhythm of his steps. I beat that rhythm out on the table in front of me, at first just imitating it, but then varying it, improvising, playing with the music that the band poured out.

Momma was right, God hadn’t seen fit to let me dance like that. But that didn’t mean I couldn’t be resentful about it.

Somebody slid into the chair next to me as the bands switched again. I looked up—it was the drummer that had yelled at us before. Perfect. He might as well haul me out by my collar.

But he said, “You feel it, don’t you? Like you’re not moving to the music, but the music is moving you.”

I shrugged. “I sure don’t have magic in my feet, not like they do.”

“I can’t speak to your feet, son, but I reckon your hands have magic to spare.” He nodded at the table, where I still beat out my rhythm without even realizing it. “You should try these.”

He produced a pair of well-worn drumsticks. I took them, not sure what to say. Could I really do what he did, make the music that brought the dancers to life?

No, it wasn’t a question. I would. I’d practice every day, just like Frankie and his friends out on the street, until I was one of the bandmen the dancers cheered and stomped for.

I looked out on the dance floor, found Frankie and Willa Mae, and an impish smile crossed my face as I beat my sticks to a wild rhythm. If they thought the music made them sweat now, just wait till I made it behind the drums on the Savoy bandstand!

 

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To answer Question 34, please read the following excerpt from "Lunch at Woolworth's" by Gloria Harris. Choose the best response to the prompt next to the passage. There is one and only one correct answer to the prompt.

 

                            Lunch at Woolworth’s
                            by Gloria Harris

As news of the first sit-in spread, students organized shifts so that they could join in without missing classes.

It came as no surprise when the waitress refused to serve Joseph McNeil, David Richmond, Ezell Blair, Jr., and Franklin McCain. The four African American men sat down at the Woolworth’s lunch counter in Greensboro, North Carolina, on February 1, 1960, and requested service. In many places in the South, blacks could shop at most stores, but they couldn’t eat at the lunch counters in those stores. These college students from North Carolina Agricultural and Technical College knew the law, but they had decided to take action against the injustice. The four young men refused to leave their seats until they had been served at the counter, or until the store closed. Woolworth’s closed with the students still waiting.

While this “sit-in” was not the first, it was the most significant, as it sparked a mass student movement. More students showed up the next day, when the “Greensboro Four,” as these men became known, returned to Woolworth’s to try again. As the days turned into weeks, the number of protesters swelled. The students were peaceful but determined. They requested service at the counter, and when they did not get it, they remained seated quietly until fellow protesters relieved them or the store closed. Many of the students brought homework or books to read.

Although the protestors remained nonviolent, white onlookers did not. When television cameras showed well-dressed, polite young men and women being pulled off stools, spat on, kicked, burned with cigarettes, and called ugly names, the outpouring of support from students, both black and white, in northern and southern colleges was overwhelming. News of the sit-in in Greensboro spread like wildfire. In less than two weeks, college students all over the South started their own sit-ins. Within 18 months, nearly 70,000 students had participated in similar protests. In addition, people began to form picket lines at sister stores in the North to protest those businesses’ segregated policies in the South.

The sit-in movement also won support from older established civil rights organizations such as the Congress of Racial Equality (CORE), the National Association for the Advancement of Colored People (NAACP), and the Southern Christian Leadership Conference (SCLC). CORE sent a representative to Greensboro to provide training for the students, 
which included role playing based on simple rules of conduct:

Do show yourself friendly at all times.

Do sit straight and face the counter.

Don’t strike back if attacked.

Don’t laugh.

Don’t hold conversations.

CORE field workers provided training throughout the sit-in movement, while the NAACP’s Legal Defense and Education Fund provided lawyers and bail money as hundreds of students were arrested for trespassing, 
disturbing the peace, unlawful assembly, and disobeying police orders to move from their seats. Some students refused to pay fines and served jail sentences instead.

The SCLC provided support for the sit-in movement under the direction of Ella Baker. Baker organized the first Sit-In Leadership Conference on April 15, 1960, at Shaw University in Raleigh, North Carolina. She invited students from 40 southern colleges and 19 northern campuses to come listen to Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr., share his message of nonviolence.

Inspired by King’s words and encouraged by Baker, who supported a grassroots movement that was organized and led by students, the Student Nonviolent Coordinating Committee (SNCC) was born. The group adopted a policy of achieving racial equality through nonviolent protest. It participated in a number of sit-ins and also would breathe new life into the Freedom Rides a year later.

As stores closed temporarily to avoid dealing with the sit-ins, and as businesses suffered because customers stayed away, these peaceful, student-led protests met with success. By the fall of 1960, lunch counters in almost 100 southern cities were desegregated. Other sit-ins desegregated movie theaters, amusement parks, and hotels. “Wade-ins” desegregated beaches; “read-ins” desegregated libraries.

Although the sit-ins did not guarantee all rights for African Americans, they did show a younger generation of civil rights protesters what could be accomplished when people took a stand and worked together.

For Questions 1-12, please mark the letter of the correct definition of the given vocabulary word.