what is my favorite teacher?

all of my tagalog things

Can you put a little lettuce in my sandwich? "A little" is correct because it refers to a small amount of an uncountable noun (lettuce) These earrings aren't my / mine. They may be Jenny's. "Mine" is correct as it's the possessive pronoun form of "my" There isn't much / many honey left. "Much" is correct because "honey" is an uncountable noun All of these paintings are nice, but the ones / one on the right is my favourite. "One" is correct because it refers to a single painting (singular) This organisation helps lots of / a lot people in need. "A lot" is the correct expression for "many" in this context I don't like these sandals. I'd like to try on the black ones / one over there. "Ones" is correct because it refers to multiple sandals (plural) I often hang out with a few / a little of my teammates after football practice. "A few" is correct when referring to countable nouns (teammates) These are my gloves, not Nancy's. Her / Hers are over there, on the table. "Hers" is the correct possessive pronoun form There aren't many / much recycling bins in our neighbourhood. "Many" is correct because "recycling bins" are countable nouns How many / How much orange juice do you drink every day? "How much" is correct because "orange juice" is an uncountable noun

# الأسئلة: D. Circle the correct options. 1. Can you put ____ lettuce in my sandwich? a few / a little 2. These earrings aren't ____. They may be Jenny's. my / mine 3. There isn't ____ honey left. much / many 4. All of these paintings are nice, but the ____ on the right is my favourite. ones / one 5. This organisation helps ____ people in need. lots of / a lot 6. I don't like these sandals. I'd like to try on the black ____ over there. ones / one 7. I often hang out with ____ of my teammates after football practice. a few / a little 8. These are my gloves, not Nancy's. ____ are over there, on the table. Her / Hers 9. There aren't ____ recycling bins in our neighbourhood. many / much 10. ____ orange juice do you drink every day? How many / How much # الإجابات: 1. a little 2. mine 3. much 4. one 5. a lot 6. ones 7. a few 8. Hers 9. many 10. How much

Translator: Joseph Geni Reviewer: Morton Bast Before March, 2011, I was a photographic retoucher based in New York City. We're pale, gray creatures. We hide in dark, windowless rooms, and generally avoid sunlight. We make skinny models skinnier, perfect skin more perfect, and the impossible possible, and we get criticized in the press all the time, but some of us are actually talented artists with years of experience and a real appreciation for images and photography. On March 11, 2011, I watched from home, as the rest of the world did, as the tragic events unfolded in Japan. Soon after, an organization I volunteer with, All Hands Volunteers, were on the ground, within days, working as part of the response efforts. I, along with hundreds of other volunteers, knew we couldn't just sit at home, so I decided to join them for three weeks. On May the 13th, I made my way to the town of Ōfunato. It's a small fishing town in Iwate Prefecture, about 50,000 people, one of the first that was hit by the wave. The waters here have been recorded at reaching over 24 meters in height, and traveled over two miles inland. As you can imagine, the town had been devastated. We pulled debris from canals and ditches. We cleaned schools. We de-mudded and gutted homes ready for renovation and rehabilitation. We cleared tons and tons of stinking, rotting fish carcasses from the local fish processing plant. We got dirty, and we loved it. For weeks, all the volunteers and locals alike had been finding similar things. They'd been finding photos and photo albums and cameras and SD cards. And everyone was doing the same. They were collecting them up, and handing them in to various places around the different towns for safekeeping. Now, it wasn't until this point that I realized that these photos were such a huge part of the personal loss these people had felt. As they had run from the wave, and for their lives, absolutely everything they had, everything had to be left behind. At the end of my first week there, I found myself helping out in an evacuation center in the town. I was helping clean the onsen, the communal onsen, the huge giant bathtubs. This happened to also be a place in the town where the evacuation center was collecting the photos. This is where people were handing them in, and I was honored that day that they actually trusted me to help them start hand-cleaning them. Now, it was emotional and it was inspiring, and I've always heard about thinking outside the box, but it wasn't until I had actually gotten outside of my box that something happened. As I looked through the photos, there were some were over a hundred years old, some still in the envelope from the processing lab, I couldn't help but think as a retoucher that I could fix that tear and mend that scratch, and I knew hundreds of people who could do the same. So that evening, I just reached out on Facebook and asked a few of them, and by morning the response had been so overwhelming and so positive, I knew we had to give it a go. So we started retouching photos. This was the very first. Not terribly damaged, but where the water had caused that discoloration on the girl's face had to be repaired with such accuracy and delicacy. Otherwise, that little girl isn't going to look like that little girl anymore, and surely that's as tragic as having the photo damaged. (Applause) Over time, more photos came in, thankfully, and more retouchers were needed, and so I reached out again on Facebook and LinkedIn, and within five days, 80 people wanted to help from 12 different countries. Within two weeks, I had 150 people wanting to join in. Within Japan, by July, we'd branched out to the neighboring town of Rikuzentakata, further north to a town called Yamada. Once a week, we would set up our scanning equipment in the temporary photo libraries that had been set up, where people were reclaiming their photos. The older ladies sometimes hadn't seen a scanner before, but within 10 minutes of them finding their lost photo, they could give it to us, have it scanned, uploaded to a cloud server, it would be downloaded by a gaijin, a stranger, somewhere on the other side of the globe, and it'd start being fixed. The time it took, however, to get it back is a completely different story, and it depended obviously on the damage involved. It could take an hour. It could take weeks. It could take months. The kimono in this shot pretty much had to be hand-drawn, or pieced together, picking out the remaining parts of color and detail that the water hadn't damaged. It was very time-consuming. Now, all these photos had been damaged by water, submerged in salt water, covered in bacteria, in sewage, sometimes even in oil, all of which over time is going to continue to damage them, so hand-cleaning them was a huge part of the project. We couldn't retouch the photo unless it was cleaned, dry and reclaimed. Now, we were lucky with our hand-cleaning. We had an amazing local woman who guided us. It's very easy to do more damage to those damaged photos. As my team leader Wynne once said, it's like doing a tattoo on someone. You don't get a chance to mess it up. The lady who brought us these photos was lucky, as far as the photos go. She had started hand-cleaning them herself and stopped when she realized she was doing more damage. She also had duplicates. Areas like her husband and her face, which otherwise would have been completely impossible to fix, we could just put them together in one good photo, and remake the whole photo. When she collected the photos from us, she shared a bit of her story with us. Her photos were found by her husband's colleagues at a local fire department in the debris a long way from where the home had once stood, and they'd recognized him. The day of the tsunami, he'd actually been in charge of making sure the tsunami gates were closed. He had to go towards the water as the sirens sounded. Her two little boys, not so little anymore, but her two boys were both at school, separate schools. One of them got caught up in the water. It took her a week to find them all again and find out that they had all survived. The day I gave her the photos also happened to be her youngest son's 14th birthday. For her, despite all of this, those photos were the perfect gift back to him, something he could look at again, something he remembered from before that wasn't still scarred from that day in March when absolutely everything else in his life had changed or been destroyed. After six months in Japan, 1,100 volunteers had passed through All Hands, hundreds of whom had helped us hand-clean over 135,000 photographs, the large majority — (Applause) — a large majority of which did actually find their home again, importantly. Over five hundred volunteers around the globe helped us get 90 families hundreds of photographs back, fully restored and retouched. During this time, we hadn't really spent more than about a thousand dollars in equipment and materials, most of which was printer inks. We take photos constantly. A photo is a reminder of someone or something, a place, a relationship, a loved one. They're our memory-keepers and our histories, the last thing we would grab and the first thing you'd go back to look for. That's all this project was about, about restoring those little bits of humanity, giving someone that connection back. When a photo like this can be returned to someone like this, it makes a huge difference in the lives of the person receiving it. The project's also made a big difference in the lives of the retouchers. For some of them, it's given them a connection to something bigger, giving something back, using their talents on something other than skinny models and perfect skin. I would like to conclude by reading an email I got from one of them, Cindy, the day I finally got back from Japan after six months. "As I worked, I couldn't help but think about the individuals and the stories represented in the images. One in particular, a photo of women of all ages, from grandmother to little girl, gathered around a baby, struck a chord, because a similar photo from my family, my grandmother and mother, myself, and newborn daughter, hangs on our wall. Across the globe, throughout the ages, our basic needs are just the same, aren't they?" Thank you. (Applause) (Applause)

Growing up in Sioux Falls, South Dakota, a small city surrounded by endless plains, I've found unexpected echoes of home in China's smaller towns — from the warmth of locals in Huaihua, Central China's Hunan province, to the quiet charm of Yangshuo, South China's Guangxi Zhuang autonomous region. With an itch to see more of China's lesser-visited regions, I began planning a trip to the northwest with seven friends — five Americans, one Pakistani, one Zimbabwean, and one Colombian. We bought round-trip tickets from Shanghai to Yinchuan, Ningxia Hui autonomous region, for less than $120 each. From there, we planned to rent a car and drive to Xining in Qinghai, then on to Qinghai Lake, and finally to Lanzhou, Gansu. To make that possible, several of us applied for Chinese driver's licenses, a process that involved translating our US licenses into Mandarin and passing a short test on traffic laws. Within a day, we were licensed. As we piled into two rental cars in late March to begin our eight-day journey, it became clear that this wasn't just a road trip — it was the culmination of our four years in China, the Mandarin we had so diligently studied, and our ongoing effort to contribute to US-China people-to-people relations. Right away, we drew curious reactions. At the Yinchuan airport, taxi drivers offered us rides into the city, only to stare in astonishment when we told them we had rented cars. "You're driving? In China?" one driver asked, visibly surprised. It was a reaction we'd encountered multiple times during our trip, as foreign drivers are rare in China, especially in remote regions. In Yinchuan, we stocked up on snacks and adjusted to the chilly desert air. From there, we headed west, navigating wide highways framed by dramatic landscapes: arid plains, jagged mountains, and occasionally, a herd of sheep crossing the road. The vastness of the Northwest was humbling — and as someone who grew up on the wide-open prairies of South Dakota, it felt oddly familiar. One of the highlights of our trip was camping by Qinghai Lake, the largest saltwater lake in China. A few summers ago, Santiago Solano, one of my classmates from the US, cycled from Xi'an in Shaanxi to Urumqi in the Xinjiang Uygur autonomous region over the course of a month and met many kind strangers along the way. One of them was Geng San, a Tibetan lamb herder who managed a piece of land right next to Qinghai Lake and graciously invited us to camp there. "That's what China is — it's the people. The quiet generosity of an old Tibetan nomad who, years after we first met, still offered us a place to rest on his land," said Solano, who is also part of the group on this trip. But apparently, we underestimated just how cold it would be to camp next to Qinghai Lake in late March. It was deathly freezing. In preparation for the trip, we had ordered two tent kits and eight sleeping bags. However, when the temperature eventually dropped to — 10 C, all of us piled into the cars and turned the heaters on. So much for camping. From Qinghai Lake, we drove to Lanzhou, where we visited many food markets and tried every type of noodle on offer. Since we are college students, we rented a gaming hotel room — something I've only ever seen in China. At night, instead of attending local parties as we had before, we stayed in the hotel and gamed late into the morning. For me, the trip was as much about the journey as it was about the destinations. Driving through Northwest China gave us a unique perspective on the region's natural beauty and its people. At gas stations, shopkeepers greeted us with curiosity and kindness, often offering recommendations for nearby attractions. At roadside carts, we sampled local specialties, grabbing a quick skewer and a mango for the road. And at every stop, we were touched by the warmth and hospitality that make traveling in China so rewarding. As an American who has lived in China for several years, I'm often asked about my experiences here. Trips like this one remind me of the similarities between the two countries, despite their differences. Just as road trips are a quintessential part of American culture, they've become my favorite way to explore China. Whether it's driving through the rolling hills of South Dakota or the deserts of Ningxia, there's something universal about the freedom and camaraderie that come with having complete control over where you end up. Written by Charlie Howes, a 22-year-old American who has lived in China since 2019. He completed his final year of high school at Beijing No 80 High School and is currently studying at New York University Shanghai. He has founded a company in China focused on facilitating US-China trade and plans to continue living in Shanghai long term. He enjoys road trips, cycling around the world, learning languages, and meeting new people.

Broken windows are covered. Floorboards are patched and doors screwed back on. The road that was ruined by German tanks is shovelled and raked smooth. Boot-shaped bruises turn yellow then fade and disappear. Flowers grow and spread across the ugly German footprints stomped into garden beds. The village looks pretty once more. School stops for the summer and everyone is put to work on the kolkhoz, the village farm. Women and big boys begin harvesting the barley crops in the outer fields. The biggest girls milk the cows, morning and night, and keep the barns clean. Old Nikolay mends ploughs, horse harnesses, pitchforks and scythes in his workshop. Anna Pushinka teaches Yelena and her friends how to get the honey from the beehives that are scattered through the orchards. I am in charge of collecting eggs. My friends Olga and Nina help. Olga and Nina are five, a year younger than me. They are twins and look exactly alike, except Nina’s nose is a little bit crooked from when she fell out of bed and squashed it sideways on the floor. The hens, ducks and geese wander free in the summer, so collecting eggs is like a treasure hunt and takes hours. Catching the hens for their daily hugs takes even longer, but I think it’s important because hugs make everyone happy and happy hens lay bigger eggs. Olga says I’m the best hen-hugger in all of Russia. Nina says I’ll be the best cow-hugger, too, when my arms grow longer. But good hugs have nothing to do with the size of your arms. It’s all to do with the size of your heart. When we are done with the hens, Olga, Nina and I can spend the rest of the day doing whatever we like. We climb the apricot trees, chase squirrels, lie in the meadow marvelling at how hot Ushanka’s black fur becomes in the sunshine, make daisy chains and race little boats of bark in the stream. I teach Olga and Nina the alphabet and we use charcoal to write our letters and our names all over the village – on doors and walls and the freshly cut ends of firewood. In between, I practise my knots. In case the German princemonsters return. I slip into Old Nikolay’s workshop and tie knots in the harnesses hanging on the walls. I wander into gardens where the washing is hung out to dry and tie knots in the laces on pants and smocks. I creep up behind Anna Pushinka and tie knots in her apron strings. I find baling twine in the hay shed and tie my own ankles together. I do such a good job of these last knots that I can’t get them undone. I have to jump all the way to Olga and Nina’s house and ask them to cut me free with their mama’s knife. At the end of each day, Ushanka and I run out into the distant barley fields to meet Mama. This is my favourite part of the day, because Mama always shouts, ‘Little Rabbit!’ and smothers my head with kisses. And as we walk home, we sing. Everyone – women, big boys and me. I love to sing. Almost as much as I love to be kissed by Mama. Sometimes one of the boys, Mikhail, has his balalaika with him. He takes the instrument out from beneath the sheaves of barley piled high on the wagon and plays music. We sing about forests and orchards and people who find their true love. As we walk home, arm in arm, my heart fills with happiness and my belly swells with pride that I am allowed to sing along with the big boys. And I can almost forget about the German prince-monsters and their lies about Russia and their big ugly boots. Almost. But today, when Mikhail reaches for his balalaika, I see other things hiding beneath the barley sheaves. Three of the mamas rush forward and cover them up, but it’s too late. I know they are there. I’ve already seen them. Rifles. Lots of rifles. Mikhail hugs his balalaika to his chest and blushes. ‘So play!’ cries Mama, her voice oddly loud and high. ‘Let’s play Sasha’s favourite song, “The Little Birch Tree”.’ So Mikhail plays and everyone sings about the lovely birch tree with its curly leaves and the branches that will be turned into silver flutes. They sing too quickly, too loudly, and as they sing and walk, they cast nervous sideways glances at me. ‘It’s alright,’ I say, when the song comes to an end. ‘I didn’t see the rifles.’ Mama nods and smiles, and I know it was the right thing to say. But I did see the rifles. And I think about Yelena wanting to get lots of guns and dynamite for the Partisans so they can shoot the Germans and blow them into thousands of tiny pieces, and Mama looking as though she agreed, and I know this is what the mamas and the big boys are doing. As well as harvesting, they are helping the Partisans. Three days later, I wake before dawn and I am all alone. Yelena is always here beside me when I wake. But not this morning. I climb down from our bed above the stove. Mama is filling a cloth sack with bread. She ties it closed with a piece of string and hands it to Yelena. ‘Stay out of sight,’ says Mama. ‘And don’t return until after dark.’ ‘Where’s she going?’ I ask. ‘Nowhere,’ snaps Mama. ‘Then why does she need all that bread?’ I ask. ‘There’s nothing left for us.’ Mama baked four loaves last night and she has stuffed them all into the sack. Yelena opens her mouth, but before she can speak, Mama shoves her out the door and sends her on the way to nowhere. Mama turns and stares at me, her blue, blue cornflower eyes wide with worry. ‘I know,’ I say, flopping down on the bench. ‘I didn’t see any bread.’ Mama sits beside me and takes my hand. ‘And . . .?’ she prods, obviously waiting for more. I puzzle for a while, then say, ‘And I don’t have a sister called Yelena.’ Mama laughs, softly and with a little bit of sadness around the edges. ‘Sweet Little Rabbit! You do have a sister called Yelena.’ ‘I do?’ I ask, now confused. ‘I haven’t seen the rifles or the bread, but I have seen Yelena?’ ‘Yes.’ Mama smiles and the magic makes me smile, too. And I am glad that Yelena is real because I love her very much. ‘Yelena is real,’ Mama explains, ‘but she does not carry sacks of bread into the forest for the Partisans.’ ‘Of course not!’ I shout, slapping my forehead. ‘Because there is no bread!’ Mama laughs loudly now, with not a hint of sadness. She hugs me, pressing me against her warm, loving heart, covering my head with kisses. ‘Clever Little Rabbit,’ she murmurs, and then, in barely a whisper, ‘Your papa would be so proud.’ When I wake the next morning, Yelena is sleeping beside me, her mouth open, her braided hair unravelling. Mama is serving kasha to a strange woman seated at our table. I crawl down from above the stove and slide along the bench beside her. I stare at her pants, her tunic, the rope she is using as a belt and her big boots. She’s dressed like a man! And there’s a rifle leaning against the wall near the door. ‘Hello,’ I say. ‘I’m Sasha.’ The woman doesn’t reply. She just shovels down her kasha. I line my four wooden bears along the table in front of her bowl and say, ‘These are my bears: Big Bear, Medium Bear, Little Bear and Even Littler Bear.’ ‘Hello, Sasha. Hello, bears.’ She smiles but she doesn’t tell me her name. ‘Why are you dressed like a man?’ I ask, tugging at the sleeve of her tunic. ‘Because men’s clothes make it easier to run and climb and crawl and shoot,’ she says. ‘You’re a Partisan!’ I gasp. ‘But she’s not real,’ says Mama, placing a bowl of kasha before me. ‘Is the kasha real?’ I ask. Mama laughs. ‘Yes, Little Rabbit.’ I’m glad the food is real, because I’m hungry. But I’m disappointed that the woman is not real. I was going to ask if I could use her rope-belt to tie her ankles together. For practice. But if she’s not real, then the rope and her ankles aren’t either. The woman finishes her kasha, hangs her rifle over her shoulder, kisses Mama on the cheek then slips out the door. I run to the window to watch her leave, but by the time I get there, she’s gone. Vanished. ‘Because she’s not real,’ I whisper. A week later, Mama and I are working in the garden. We sing as we weed between the flowers and pluck caterpillars from the vegetables. Anna Pushinka is picking strawberries in her garden and wanders over. ‘Taste these,’ she says, holding out the basket. Mama reaches in and takes out a fat strawberry and a tiny piece of folded paper. The strawberry goes into her mouth, the paper into her pocket. ‘What’s on the paper?’ I ask. ‘Paper?’ Anna Pushinka replies with a wave of her hand. ‘Goodness, Sasha! Who has money for paper? These are lean times. We must choose between paper for writing and noodles for our soup. And I always choose noodles.’ She chuckles and I know the paper is yet another thing that is not real. That night, Mama slips the paper to Yelena, but she drops it on the floor. I pick it up for her, and I see that there are tiny words and numbers written all over it. I wish I could read better. I’m desperate to know what it says. Or rather, what it doesn’t say, because it’s not real. Later, when Mama has tucked us into our bed above the stove and Ushanka has wrapped herself around the top of my head, I ask Yelena, ‘What’s on the paper?’ ‘What paper?’ says Yelena. ‘The paper that isn’t real,’ I reply. Yelena stares at me, nibbling her lip, then whispers, ‘A message for the Partisans. Stuff about where the Germans have their headquarters and when their trains are travelling and where they store their ammunition.’ ‘Why?’ ‘So the Partisans can blow them up.’ Yelena grabs my arm. ‘But don’t tell anyone. It’s a secret.’ ‘What’s a secret?’ I ask. ‘The message.’ ‘What message?’ I say, my eyes wide. Yelena laughs. ‘Good boy, Sasha.’ My belly swells with pride. I know how to play this game. ‘How are your knots coming along?’ asks Yelena. ‘Good! Yesterday, I crept into the dairy and tied knots in the apron strings of all the girls who were milking and only one of them noticed. Today, I tied Olga’s ankles together with Mama’s embroidery thread and just now, while you were taking a bath, I tied the sleeves of your blouse together in an enormous knot.’ Yelena rolls her eyes, then says, ‘I’ll see if I can find you some rope for practising.’ ‘Practising what?’ I ask. ‘Your knots,’ she says. ‘What knots?’ Yelena, my big sister who is twelve and always serious t

Commas Directions: Correct the sentences by adding commas where needed. 1. After the sound of the bell we realized it was a false alarm. 2. Mr. Yoshino the head of the department resigned yesterday. 3. The gentleman with the black umbrella who is an ambassador to the United States said hello to us as we were entering the hotel. 4. Even though we won the game the players unfortunately did not play their best. 5. Heather walked quickly up to the door and knocked hoping that someone would answer. Author’s Purpose 6. An author writes a story about a boy who saves his town from a flood by using his quick thinking. The author includes exciting descriptions of the boy's bravery. What is the author’s most likely purpose for writing this story? A. To inform readers about the dangers of floods B. To entertain readers with a heroic tale C. To explain how to prevent floods D. To persuade readers to prepare for emergencies 7. Which of the following is an example of an author writing to persuade? A. A science textbook chapter explaining the water cycle B. A commercial encouraging people to adopt shelter pets C. A short story about a girl who finds a magical necklace D. A recipe for making chocolate chip cookies 8. Read the following sentence: "Studies show that students who read for 20 minutes a day score higher on tests. Reading is one of the best habits you can develop for success in school and life." What is the author’s purpose in this passage? A. To entertain readers with a fun story B. To persuade readers to read more often C. To inform readers about how books are written D. To explain how to find books to read 9. An author writes a how-to guide titled 10 Easy Steps to Plant a Garden. What is the author’s primary purpose? A. To persuade readers to grow their own vegetables B. To inform readers how to plant a garden C. To entertain readers with funny garden tips 10. Read the excerpt: "Long ago, in a village surrounded by mountains, the people discovered a secret about their water well. Every full moon, the well water turned to gold for just one night. But no one knew why. This mystery brought travelers from far and wide, hoping to uncover the truth." What is the author’s purpose in this excerpt? A. To persuade readers to visit the village B. To inform readers about a historical event C. To entertain readers with a mysterious tale D. To explain the science behind the water Main Idea When I stepped out into the bright sunlight from the darkness of the movie house, I had only two things on my mind: Paul Newman and a ride home. I was wishing I looked like Paul Newman--- he looks tough and I don't--- but I guess my own looks aren't so bad. I have light-brown, almost-red hair and greenish-gray eyes. I wish they were more gray because I hate most guys that have green eyes, but I have to be content with what I have. My hair is longer than a lot of boys wear theirs, squared off in back and long at the front and sides, but I am a greaser and most of my neighborhood rarely bothers to get a haircut. Besides, I look better with long hair. 11. What is the main idea? The narrator likes movies. The narrator wishes he was Paul Newman. The narrator is content with his appearance. The narrator looks better with long hair. 12. The narrator believes. . . looks are important. he should get a haircut. green eyes are bad. that he has red hair. Once there were four girls who shared a pair of pants. The girls were all different sizes and shapes, and yet the pants fit each of them. You may think this is a suburban myth. But I know it's true, because I am one of them, one of the sisters of the Traveling Pants. We discovered their magic last summer, purely by accident. The four of us were splitting up for the first time in our lives. Carmen had gotten them from a secondhand place without even bothering to try them on. She was going to throw them away, but by chance, Tibby spotted them. First Tibby tried them; then me, Lena; then Bridget; then Carmen. By the time Carmen pulled them on, we knew something extraordinary was happening. If the same pants fit and I mean really fit the four of us, they aren't ordinary. They don't belong completely to the world of things you can see and touch. My sister, Effie, claims I don't believe in magic, and maybe I didn't then. But after the first summer of the Traveling Pants, I do. 13. What is the main idea? Four friends were connected through a special pair of pants. A pair of pants called the Traveling Pants. Carmen finding a pair of pants from a second-hand shop. The girls believing in magic. 14. The narrator included that the pants fit all of them to emphasize how the girls become friends. the girls are different sizes. why the pants are special. where the pants came from. If you are interested in stories with happy endings, you would be better off reading some other book. In this book, not only is there no happy ending, there is no happy beginning and very few happy things in the middle. This is because not very many happy things happened in the lives of the three Baudelaire youngsters. Violet, Klaus, and Sunny Baudelaire were intelligent children, and they were charming, and resourceful, and had pleasant facial features, but they were extremely unlucky, and most everything that happened to them was rife with misfortune, misery, and despair. I'm sorry to tell you this, but that is how the story goes. 15. What is the main idea? description about the story to come. A warning about the story and its sad content. A declaration about the Baudelaire family. A beginning for the end of the story. 16. The narrator believes the reader does not like sad stories. likes stories with happy endings. can’t enjoy the story. will find the story unhappy. 17. Read the following sentence: Of course you can exaggerate your story, but what you say must be based on truth. Which word means the same as exaggerate? repeat reveal overstate increase 18. What is the meaning of the word inaugurated, used in the following sentence: Less than two months after Abraham Lincoln was inaugurated President in 1861, he encountered one of the most difficult tasks ever experienced by a United States leader: civil war. elected by a vote brought into office identified by name viewed as an authority 19. What does the phrase “practice your presentation so much that you could do it in your sleep” suggest in the following sentence: The best advice is to practice your presentation so much that you could do it in your sleep. get plenty of sleep the night before giving a presentation give their presentations in front of a small audience first take advice from their teachers on how to write a presentation memorize their presentations before they give them 20. Read the following sentence: The Phoenix Mars Lander is a NASA spacecraft that landed on the Red Planet in May 2009 to study the history of water and potential for life on the planet. What is another word for potential? existence situation possibility qualification

Yaama I'm Jack Evans and you're watching BTN. Here's what's coming up. We uncover the story behind this famous photo, learn about First Nations seasons and find out the history of Book Week. What is Statehood? Reporter: Tatenda Chibika INTRO: But first, the Prime Minister Anthony Albanese has announced that Australia will join other countries in recognising Palestine as an independent state. So, what does that mean? Tatenda found out. Anthony Albanese, Prime Minister: Australia will recognise the state of Palestine. Australia will recognise the right of the Palestinian people to a state of their own. We will work with the international community to make this right a reality. Tatenda Chibika, Reporter: That's the moment our Prime Minister said Australia would recognise Palestine as an independent state at the upcoming United Nations General assembly next month. It's something other countries, including France and Canada, have said they'll be doing too. So, what does that mean exactly? To be considered an independent state under international law a place needs to have its own land or territories with defined borders, it needs to have people who permanently live there, have a working government and it has to be able to talk and make deals with other countries. Once a place meets all those rules, it can ask to be recognised by other independent states and countries. But a big step in becoming an independent state is being fully recognised by the United Nations. To do that you first need to get approval from at least nine members of the UN's Security Council. That's a group of countries responsible for maintaining international peace and security. But even then, that tick of approval can still be blocked by one of the Security Council's five permanent members Russia, China, the UK, the US and France. If the Security Council approves, the decision then goes to the UN's General Assembly where at least two thirds of the UN's 193 members have to agree to make it official. Yeah, it's a pretty complex process which is why we've only seen a handful of countries recognised by the UN in recent years like South Sudan and Montenegro. Others like Kosovo are only 'partially' recognised which means they have some recognition but not enough to become a full member state at the UN. Right now, Palestine is recognised by more than 140 countries — that's more than two thirds of the UN General Assembly. So, why hasn't it become a UN member state yet? Well, it came pretty close last year when 12 members of the Security Council voted in favour of it. VANESSA FRAZIER, AMBASSADOR OF MALTA, APRIL 2024 UNSC PRESIDENT: I shall now put the draft resolution to the vote. But the US, a close ally to Israel, used its special powers to block Palestine from becoming a member state. VANESSA FRAZIER: Those against? At the time, the U.S said Palestine and Israel needed to come to an agreement on their own first. Throughout the years, there have been attempts to figure out a way for both Palestine and Israel to exist peacefully alongside each other but that hasn't happened yet. And now Israel has said that recognising Palestine as an independent state would be rewarding Hamas the group in charge of Gaza which was responsible for the terror attacks on October 7th, 2023. But the Palestinian Authority which governs parts of the West Bank says Hamas won't have a role in any future state of Palestine which will exist peacefully alongside Israel. Australia, like the US, had previously said that it wanted Israel and Palestine to figure out things by themselves first but because of how the war has been going the Australian government is worried that if it continues to wait, there might not be a Palestinian state to recognise. ANTHONY ALBANESE, PRIME MINISTER: There has been too many lives lost, both Israeli's and Palestinians and the world is saying we need a solution to this conflict, we need to end the cycle of violence and the way to do that is to have a two-state solution. News Quiz Russia's President Vladimir Putin stepped foot on American Soil for the first time in a decade to meet with US President Donald Trump. What state did they meet in? Alabama, Alaska or Arizona?It's Alaska. The two leaders met to discuss a way to end the war in Ukraine but weren't able to make any final agreements. DONALD TRUMP, US PRESIDENT: There were many, many points that we agreed on. Most of them, I would say, a couple of big ones, that we haven't quite got there, but we've made some headway. There's no deal until there's a deal. A lot of people criticised the two world leaders for not including Ukraine's president Volodymyr Zelenskyy in the meeting. But that didn't seem to worry Mr Trump who said the meeting was a success and Mr Putin even invited the US President to meet up again in Russia. DONALD TRUMP: We'll see you again very soon. Thank you very much, Vladimir. VLADIMIR PUTIN, RUSSIAN PRESIDENT: Next time in Moscow. DONALD TRUMP: Oh, that's an interesting one. No, no, no. I'll get a little heat on that one. Last week thousands of people marked the 80th anniversary of VJ Day. What does VJ Day commemorate? The victory of Allied forces in Europe, the surrender of Japan and the end of World War II or the dropping of the first atomic bomb? VJ Day or Victory over Japan day commemorates the surrender of Japan and the end of World War II on the 15th of August 1945. Around the world, and here in Australia, people marked the anniversary with ceremonies remembering those who fought in the war. REPORTER: Who will you be remembering today? VETERAN: Oh, a lot of fellows that I knew that never made it home. Scientists in the UK have created toothpaste that includes which of these ingredients? Hair, eye lashes or fingernails? Yeah, they're all a bit random and gross but the answer is hair. According to scientists from King's College in London, hair could be the key to good oral health because it contains a protein called Keratin which they say when mixed with saliva forms a crystal-like protective coating similar to enamel. And Swifties rejoice because Taylor Swift has announced her 12th Studio album. It's called life of a show what? Is it show pony, show girl or show bag? It's Life of a Showgirl and it'll be released October 3rd. Vincent Lingiari Reporter: Joseph Baronio INTRO: Now to this very famous photograph. It was taken 50 years ago and depicts a really significant moment in Australian history. Joe found out about the story behind it. On the 16th of August 1975, this famous photo was taken. It shows the former Prime Minister Gough Whitlam pouring sand into the hand of Aboriginal leader Vincent Lingiari. A simple gesture that symbolised handing the land at Wave Hill in the Northern Territory back to the Gurindji people. But the journey to get there was far from simple. It started back in the 1960s. At the time, Wave Hill was the biggest cattle station in the world, controlled by British landowner Lord Vestey. The Gurindji people, who had lived on the land for generations, worked for Vestey, but they weren't paid fairly, and conditions were tough. NEWS REPORTER: The station's 100 aboriginal stockmen, with their 100 dependents, are camped in the dry bed of the Victoria River with little shade from 90-degree heat, dust and flies. Eventually, Gurindji leader Vincent Lingiari said it was time to act. VINCENT LINGIARI: I said, "What was it before Lord Vestey born and I was born?" It was blackfella country. So, on August 23rd, 1966, Mr Lingiari and his fellow Aboriginal workers went on strike. It became known as the Wave Hill Walk Off. They moved their camp away from the Wave Hill station to a sacred site called Daguragu on Wattie Creek. They wanted to set up their own cattle station, and said they wouldn't move until their land was returned to them. For years, petitions and negotiations went on between the Gurindji people, the NT Administration, and the Australian Government in Canberra. CLAPPERS: 31. 32. 33. DAVID QUINN, ABSCOL: Well, it's basic justice that their land is recognised. PROTESTORS: Equal rights! As the news spread across the country, thousands of Aussies joined the campaign, including the leader of the Labor Party, Gough Whitlam, who made this promise during his 1972 election campaign. GOUGH WHITLAM: We will legislate to give Aborigines land rights. Not just because their case is beyond argument, but because all of us as Australians are diminished, while the Aborigines are denied their rightful place in this nation. Later that year, Gough Whitlam became Prime Minister. (Song From Little Things Big Things Grow, Song by Kev Carmody and Paul Kelly, 1993) From little things big things grow,from little things big things grow… But it wasn't until 1975, 9 years after the Wave Hill Walk Off started, that he followed through with his promise. Eight years went by, eight long years of waiting'Til one day a tall stranger appeared in the landAnd he came with lawyers and he came with great ceremony GOUGH WHITLAM: I solemnly hand to you these deeds as proof in Australian law that these lands belong to the Gurindji people. And through Vincent's fingers poured a handful of sandFrom little things big things grow 50 years on, and The Wave Hill Walk Off is seen as a pivotal moment in Australia's history. It led to significant legal and social changes for First Nations people, which is something many agree is worth celebrating. First Nations Seasons Reporter: Saskia Mortarotti INTRO: Recently, Melbourne's Lord Mayor suggested ditching the four-season calendar that most of us are familiar with and adopting a six-season Wurundjeri calendar instead saying it gives a better description of what the weather's actually like there. Sas found out more about the different seasonal calendars used by First Nations people. SASKIA MORTAROTTI, REPORTER: Right now, in most of the country, it's pretty cold. COLD GIRL: Think of somewhere warm. What? It's 32 degrees in Darwin in the middle of winter? But ah, yeah. There are some places where it's, well, quite warm. Which makes you wonder whether the weather actually matches the seasons. You see, Australia is pretty big, and we have lots of different weather patterns. Which is something First Nations people have tracked for thousands of years with their own seasonal calendars. KARL WINDA TELFER, CULTURAL CREATIVE KANYANYAPILLA: Why have we got four seasons when you know that don't make any sense here. It doesn't relate to the country here. This is Karl Telfer. He's an artist and storyteller who produced the Kuri Kurru exhibition at the Museum of Discovery in Adelaide that explores the 6 different seasons of the Kaurna Meyunna. SASKIA MORTAROTTI: So, how do you know when you're in one of those six seasons? KARL WINDA TELFER: Well, there are stars that rise. So, you know, there are certain stars, like in Parnatti, for example. There's a star called Parna, and we know what that star is. So, that talks to us about, okay, the time now is going to be cold on the ground. First Nations calendars like the Kaurna one don't just tell us what's happening with the weather; they're also used to track when certain plants and animals are around. KARL WINDA TELFER: It teaches you about what plants you can, you know, what you can eat what you can't and all that what is ready certain times a year and fruit everything, bird shows you the right time to eat the fruit, perfect time, if you try and go get them the next week they're gone. Karl says we can also use these calendars to see how the environment has changed over time. KARL WINDA TELFER: Kudlilla is the season we're in now and Kudlilla that talks about like the rain but we're not having enough rain these days, well, these times. And this is due to climate and the climate changing. There are many different First Nations seasonal calendars around the country. Like Ngan'gi calendar from the Northern Territory which has 13 seasons that follow the life cycle of the native spear grass. Or the Wurundjeri Calendar in Victoria which has 6 seasons. And recently, Melbourne's Lord Mayor, Nicholas Reece, said Melbourne, or Naarm, would be better off adopting the Wurundjeri calendar because it's more in tune to what's happening with the weather. Something many, including Karl, think we should be doing right across the country. KARL WINDA TELFER: I'm talking about the English four seasons. So, this is totally different systems that we're talking about and weather patterns and currents and all sorts of different things, because it's the sea country too. So, my question is, well, why do we have that? If that doesn't work, you know? Quiz How many seasons are there in the Tiwi Island Calendar? 1, 2 or 3? It's 3, although they also have 13 minor seasons. Book Week Reporter: Wren Gillett INTRO: This week, kids across Australia have been dressing up as their favourite characters to celebrate Book Week. Wren finds out why Book Week began 80 years ago and why it's still important today for getting young Aussies into reading. STUDENT: I read an hour every night, maybe even two hours some nights. STUDENT: My favourite book series are the Harry Potter series and the Keeper of the Lost City series. STUDENT: Probably Bad Guys and Weirdo. STUDENT: I like the Amulet, I've been reading that. STUDENT: I love reading Dork Diaries and Exploding Endings. Whether it's Fantasy, mystery, history — whatever you're into. Book week is a time to celebrate, well, books. STUDENT: Me and my friends are dressing up as Inside Out. STUDENT: I was thinking SpongeBob. STUDENT: I'm dressing up as Winnie the Pooh and it's just a fun way to express what kind of books you like. And guess what, book week has actually been a thing for many, many years. WREN GILLETT, REPORTER: Once upon a time, in a land not so far away, literacy lovers noticed a problem. The year was 1945. The second World War had just ended, and kids were mainly reading books from overseas, in particular the UK. Because, at the time, there weren't many Aussie authors writing books for children. WREN GILLETT: So, a group of passionate teachers, librarians, booksellers, publishers, and book-loving volunteers, decided to create what we now know as The Children's Book Council of Australia. Familiar logo, right? Together, they launched book week, all in an effort to get Aussie kids' reading more. And it seemed to work. The 1960s saw a boom in Australian children's books being published. REPORTER: How many books do you read a week? STUDENT: Well, it really depends on the week. If there's exams, I might read only one or two. But if there's no exams and if I've got plenty of time, I might read up to five or six. WREN GILLETT: But today, it's a slightly different story. Studies show that less than one in five eight to 18-year-olds are reading in their free time, and that only one in three actually enjoy reading for fun. WREN GILLETT: Why do you reckon we're seeing this trend? STUDENT: People are getting sucked into screens and they're like spending hours just scrolling through TikTok and stuff, and they're getting so attached to it that they don't feel the need to pick up books and read them. Yeah, there's a lot of different things competing for our attention these days, but many think books are still worth our time. PETER HELLIER, AUSSIE COMEDIAN AND AUTHOR: Books are the exact opposite of boring. And if you think they're boring, I'm sorry, but you're wrong. This is Peter Hellier, he's a pretty famous Aussie comedian, actor, and the author behind these books. And he's just released another one called Detective Galileo, about a trail horse who dreams of solving crimes. PETER HELLIER: He joins the police force and quickly finds out that the horses don't actually solve the crimes, it's the police officers who solve the crime. So he promptly gets thrown out of the force and begins his own detective agency, which I'm reliably told is the only detective agency in the world run by a horse. Peter actually started writing books when he was a kid. PETER HELLIER: I started writing when I was six, seven, eight years old. In fact, I started my own publishing company called Better Books. And I would write these books, and then I would get a parent or one of my parents or teachers to type them up. And I would read them in front of the class. And, you see, each has the logo, the Better Books logo, there it is — the famous Better Books logo. WREN GILLETT: You weren't mucking around. PETER HELLIER: There all on all of them. There we go. There we go. Many, Including Peter, say there's plenty to get from a good book. They help us learn new words and phrases, get a better understanding of the world around us, and strengthen our imaginations. PETER HELLIER: Books can take you absolutely anywhere. They can take you to countries that you never dreamed about going. Countries that exist, countries that don't exist. Reading just makes the world a much bigger place. It's why for the past 80 years, schools around the country have been taking part in book week. STUDENT: Reading is a place where you can have your own world just to yourself. STUDENT: It's like watching a movie inside your head, but you can choose how it goes. STUDENT: Picking up a book is a good idea, maybe you should start with something that you're interested with and then you can start exploring from there. Quiz What is the title of the book that took out this year's Book of the year Award for younger readers? It's Laughter is the Best Endingby Maryam Master. Some other winners included I'm not really here by Gary Loneborough which took out book of the year for older readers and best picture book went to The Truck Cat, by Deborah Frenkel. Sport Australia's men's national basketball team — the Boomers — have won their third Asia Cup in a row, with an epically narrow victory over China. COMMENTATOR: It is Australia who are celebrating! China started strong, leading 25-17 at quarter time. But Aussie Xavier Cooks led a fierce comeback, shooting 30 points and collecting nine rebounds, earning him the title of MVP. And there seriously couldn't have been a tighter finish. Just as the final buzzer went off, China missed a shot that would have won them the game, leaving Australia with a 90-89 victory. COMMENTATOR: An unbelievable finish. The 2025 AFLW season kicked off last week, and so did a new trick. Yeah, 19-year-old Ash Centra from Collingwood, pulled out this move in the warm-up before their season-opener to Carlton, and since then, a lot of people have been trying to do it, with some success, kind of? FOOTY PLAYER: No, I'm not doing it on camera. But despite the epic warmup, Carlton did end up beating Collingwood by 24 points. Now, the moves from these athletes in China weren't quite so graceful but give 'em a break, okay, they're robots. For the first time ever, humanoid robots from all over the world, competed in their very own games, which featured, soccer, boxing, running, and ahh, lots of falling over. Lots. Luckily though, they did bring their own cheer squad. Young Rapper Reporter: Rylie INTRO: Finally, we're going to meet another winner of this year's Heywire competition — which asks young people in regional areas to share their stories. Rylie's going to tell us how music helped to transform his life. Check it out. Mum and I were homeless. We lived at a caravan park, in motels and tents around Warrnambool. It wasn't pretty. I'm First Nations, and I remember feeling like, my own country is failing me right now. So, we camped right along here. I remember pitching a tent right here and this was actually around the same time I started to get into music which was a good way for me to have something to look forward to. I was raised by the SoundCloud era, listening to a lot of trap music. When I was in school, I'd rap along to songs by Juice World, then I started to make my own. My first track was recorded on my phone. It was bad but a lot of fun to make. Some kids in my school heard it and shamed me. That put me off music for the next couple of years, until a friend of mine bought a microphone and encouraged me to give it another go. There was something about that mic and the energy of the crew around me that gave me confidence. It lit a fire in me. Over time, I was able to focus my flow. My songs are about escapism, living the life, being a success. I rap about stuff that takes me to a better place in my head. I'm manifesting my future. My stage name is Hundo Milli, it's short for hundreds of millions. Money's not really the end goal; it's more about having the freedom to dream big. Mum taught me to never stop believing. Even when times were tough, she kept pushing for us to get housing and eventually we did. We're some of the lucky ones. Today, I'm in a Melbourne studio recording my next single. I remember living in my tent dreaming about this very moment and now I'm here, doing what I love. Ain't nothing going to stop me. Closer Well, that's all we've got for you today, but we'll be back before you know it. In the meantime, you can head to our website, there's plenty to see and do. You can also catch Newsbreak every weeknight and there's BTN High for all you highschoolers out there. Have an awesome week and I'll see you next time. Bye.

The following days are a jumble of gunfire, digging, gobbled food, soldiers running in and out of the forest in small groups, distant explosions, stray shells, bandaged heads and unexpected lulls. On the very first day, before dawn, I am ordered into one of the newly dug trenches. I huddle there, squeezing my magic buttons and singing songs to the dog. When the fighting stops, the dog disappears, but a new companion takes his place. A strange little soldier crawls along the trench toward me. ‘Private Sasha!’ he cries. ‘I’ve been looking for you all day long!’ He’s old, like a grandfather, a dedushka. He has a black patch over one eye, a tape measure around his neck and a row of pins threaded into his sleeve. Hanging from his belt is the most enormous pair of scissors I have ever seen and I wonder if he uses them as a weapon. He doesn’t tell me his name, so in my head he becomes Dedushka. Dedushka squats, cups his hand to his ear, peers over the top of the trench and smiles. ‘It’s safe to be upright . . . for now.’ He helps me to my feet, dusts me off and commands me to stand as tall and straight as I can. Then he measures me. Everything from head to toe – even my toes! He writes numbers in a little notebook, strings his tape measure back around his neck, salutes and hurries away. It’s all very strange, and I wonder if Dedushka has been bumped on the head during the battle and is now a little bit muddled. I should have given him a hug before he left. I chase after him but stop when I’m hit by a shovelful of flying dirt. Sleepy Bear is digging a cave! ‘Are you going to hibernate?’ I ask. Sleepy Bear chuckles. ‘No, although that would be wonderful! I could do with a lo-o-o-ong sleep.’ He sighs and closes his eyes. He doesn’t open them again and I realise that he has gone to sleep. Standing up! I shake his arm, and he opens his eyes and keeps talking. ‘No, I’m not hibernating. I’m digging a little nook where I can sleep and eat. I’ll hang up my raincape as a door that can open and close so it feels just like a real home . . . except for the lice . . . and the bad smells . . . and the bombs that make the walls shake and crumble.’ He points further along the trench to where other soldiers are digging. ‘We’re all making little houses in the ground.’ ‘Like rabbits and moles,’ I say. Sleepy Bear chuckles. ‘Yes! And soldiers who need to hide from German bullets and bombs.’ He stops digging to roll a cigarette. ‘Should I be making a house?’ I ask. ‘I want to hide from German bullets and bombs, too.’ Sleepy Bear flops to the ground, lights his cigarette, closes his eyes and takes a deep puff. I wait for him to answer, but, instead, he begins to snore! I poke him in the side. He snorts and he murmurs, ‘I think someone has already built you a house, Sasha. Keep going along this beautiful village street and you are sure to find it.’ He falls asleep once more. I kiss his dusty cheek and whisper, ‘Thank you, Sleepy Bear.’ A little way along, I see Cook in a cloud of smoke. He has lit a fire, right here in the middle of the trench, and is stirring a cauldron full of kasha. He squats as he stirs. ‘What are you doing?’ I ask. ‘Cooking supper, of course!’ he cries. ‘But why are you doing it here?’ Cook points his spoon at the ground above the trenches. ‘Because if I do it up there, my pot will be filled with holes from German bullets and all of the kasha will leak out onto the ground. It’s bad enough that our supplies can’t get through German lines and there’s nothing to cook but buckwheat for kasha. But if we lost the kasha, too . . .’ ‘Hungry soldiers,’ I say. Cook nods. ‘And grumpy!’ ‘Like Boris!’ I gasp. ‘Even worse,’ warns Cook. I picture the kasha pot full of bullet holes. And then I realise that if the kasha pot were full of holes, then Cook would be, too. I wrap my arms around Cook’s neck and say, ‘I think this is a very good place for cooking our supper.’ I kiss his smoky cheek and run along. At the end of the trench, I find the biggest hole of all. It’s wide and deep and as busy as a beehive in a blossom tree. Above, a group of soldiers is rolling logs into place for a roof, while below, typewriters rattle and pencils scratch and papers flutter and voices crackle out of five different radios. Their words tangle together to tell a strange wartime fairy tale about German guns and a loving father called Stalin and a Red Army regiment that is lost in the deep, dark forest and a wicked beast called Hitler and a delivery of vegetables that was hit by a bomb and blown into a million tiny pieces too small even to make soup. In the middle of it all, wrestling with a rumpled map, his rifle still slung over his shoulder, is Major Scruff. ‘Major Scruff!’ I run and jump into his arms. ‘Is this our new home?’ ‘Yes, Sasha. I suppose it is.’ ‘Is it safe from German bullets and bombs?’ I ask. He stares at me. ‘Were you scared in the trenches today, Sasha?’ ‘No,’ I reply. ‘I had magic buttons and a dog and some songs to sing. Were you scared in the forest, Major Scruff?’ ‘Yes,’ he says. ‘Poor Major Scruff!’ I press my hand against his cheek. The dark, rough stubble is grubby with grit and his eyelids are taking a long time to open after every blink. ‘You need a shave and a nap!’ I scold. He chuckles. ‘I am too tired to shave and too busy to nap.’ I scrunch my nose while I consider his problem. ‘I know!’ I cry. ‘You nap and I will shave your whiskers. That will be two jobs tumbled into one!’ And so that’s what we do. Major Scruff slumps into a chair and snoozes while I lather his face with soapy water and shave his whiskers. The soap suds travel from his face, up into his hair and down the front of his uniform, and I have to shave his jaw and chin three times because I keep missing bits, but I finally get it all done. I am just wiping his cheeks dry when the dog appears. He licks my hand, then stretches up and licks soap suds from Major Scruff’s ear. Major Scruff wakes with a start. He feels his newly shaved face and cries, ‘Wonderful, Sasha! I feel smooth, clean, rested and ready for action.’ He ruffles my hair. ‘We must do this again tomorrow. Although next time, you might wake me with a gentle shake of the shoulder instead of licking my ear.’

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