The big Blue Ox - Unit #3

Sea Animals What is it like to live in the sea? Lots of animals and plants live here. The animals can be big. They can also be little. This flat fish has big blue spots. This thin fish has pink spots. Some animals must be in water to live. This sea slug can rest on rocks in the water. Some animals can live in water and on land. This crab can run and dig in the sand. Penguins can live where it is cold. They just had a cold swim. Sea lions can live where it is warm. They will nap on rocks in the sun.

Billy gets lost Billy is a puppy. He lives in a big house with a blue roof. He loves to play fetch with Emmy. Emmy throws the ball. Billy chases it. Then, Billy sees Cat. He drops the ball and chases Cat. Cat runs down the street, and Billy chases him. Emmy cries, “Come back, Billy.”Cat runs through a farm, and Billy chases him. Cat runs into the forest, and Billy chases him. Cat climbs up a tree. Billy turns to go home. He cannot see the big house with a blue roof.“Oh, no, I am lost,” Billy says. Billy runs down a path. He sees Fox.“How can I get home?” he asks Fox. “I have never been out of the forest,” says Fox.“Ask Cow in the farmer’s field,” Fox says. Billy runs to the farmer’s field. Billy says to Cow, “I am lost.“Do you know the way to my house?” Billy asks.“I have never been off the farm,” says Cow. “Ask Owl,” Cow says. Billy goes to Owl in the barn.“Please wake up, Owl,” says Billy. “I need your help,” he says.“I am lost!” he cries. “Do you know a big house with a blue roof?” Billy asks.“Yes, I do,” Owl says. Owl flies, and Billy chases her. Then, Billy sees Emmy at the big house with a blue roof.“ Thank you, Owl,” says Billy.

Bums in the Attic I want a house on a hill like the ones with the gardens where Papa works. We go on Sundays, Papa's day off. I used to go. I don't anymore. You don't like to go out with us, Papa says. Getting too old? Getting too stuck-up, says Nenny. I don't tell them I am ashamed -all of us staring out the window like the hungry. I am tired of looking at what we can't have. When we win the lottery . . . Mama begins, and then I stop listening. People who live on hills sleep so close to the stars they forget those of us who live too much on earth. They don't look down at all except to be content to live on hills. They 86 Sandra Cisneros have nothing to do with last week's garbage or fear of rats. Night comes. Nothing wakes them but the wind. One day I'll own my own house, but I won't forget who I am or where I came from. Passing bums will ask, Can I come in? I'll offer them the attic, ask them to stay, because I know how it is to be without a house. Some days after dinner, guests and I will sit in front of a fire. Floorboards will squeak upstairs. The attic grum- ble. Rats? they'll ask. Bums, I'll say, and I'll be happy. Minerva is only a little bit older than me but already she has two kids and a husband who left. Her mother raised her kids alone and it looks like her daughters will go that way too. Minerva cries because her luck is unlucky. Every night and every day. And prays. But when the kids are asleep after she's fed them their pancake dinner, she writes poems on little pieces of paper that she folds over and over and holds in her hands a long time, little pieces of paper that smell like a dime. She lets me read her poems. I let her read mine. She is always sad like a house on fire-always something wrong. 84 Sandra Cisneros She has many troubles, but the big one is her husband who left and keeps leaving. One day she is through and lets him know enough is enough. Out the door he goes. Clothes, records, shoes. Out the window and the door locked. But that night he comes back and sends a big rock through the window. Then he is sorry and she opens the door again. Same story. Next week she comes over black and blue and asks what can she do? Minerva. I don't know which way she'll go. There is nothing I can do.

Billy gets lost. Billy is a puppy. He lives in a big house with a blue roof. He loves to play fetch with Emmy. Emmy throws the ball. Billy chases it. Then, Billy sees Cat. He drops the ball and chases Cat. Cat runs down the street, and Billy chases him. Emmy cries, “Come back, Billy.” Cat runs through a farm, and Billy chases him. Cat runs into the forest, and Billy chases him. Cat climbs up a tree. Billy turns to go home. He cannot see the big house with a blue roof.“ Oh, no, I am lost,” Billy says. Billy runs down a path. He sees Fox. “How can I get home?” he asks Fox. “I have never been out of the forest,” says Fox. “Ask Cow in the farmer’s field,” Fox says. Billy runs to the farmer’s field. Billy says to Cow, “I am lost. “Do you know the way to my house?” Billy asks. “I have never been off the farm,” says Cow. “Ask Owl,” Cow says. Billy goes to Owl in the barn. “Please wake up, Owl,” says Billy. “I need your help,” he says. “I am lost!” he cries. “Do you know a big house with a blue roof?” Billy asks. “Yes, I do,” Owl says. Owl flies, and Billy chases her. Then, Billy sees Emmy at the big house with a blue roof. “Thank you, Owl,” says Billy. Create an interactive "fill the gaps" quiz in seconds - complete with a 'Hall of Fame'! Instructions: 1. Edit the title of this quiz (above) to something appropriate. 2. COPY and PASTE your text into this box (TIP - plain text for best results, to avoid formatting glitches), and edit it as you wish. 3. DOUBLE-CLICK any word to turn it into a 'gap'. 4. To put the word back, simply double-click the gap again or drag the word from the top of the screen to the correct gap. 5. When you are finished, click 'save' to turn your work into an interactive quiz for your students - complete with a Leaderboard so you can see how quickly they finished! Note: When you save your work, you will provide a password which will allow you to edit the quiz again later.

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

The Philippine Flag Our country is officially identified through our flag. The Philippine flag has three colors: white, blue, and red. White signifies purity; blue means hope and peace; and red denotes bravery. The three stars symbolize the three big groups of islands of our country-the Luzon, Visayas, and Mindanao. The eight rays of the sun signify the eight provinces that first revolted against the Spaniards. These are Bulacan, Pampanga, Tarlac, Nueva Ecija, Laguna, Batangas, Manila, and Cavite. We respect our flag to show that we respect our country. We should not treat it like an ordinary cloth because it symbolizes our country. An old flag should be burned and not be used as a rag. Title: National Hero Body text: Dr. Jose Rizal was from a middle-class family from Calamba, Laguna. He is regarded as a genius who fought the Spaniards through his writings, especially the novels "Noli Me Tangere" and "El Filibusterismo." The two novels exposed the anomalies and wrongdoings of the Spanish government against the Filipino people. He wrote the poem "Mi Ultimo Adios" the eve before his execution in Bagumbayan (now known as Rizal Park). National Fruit A mango is sour when it is green, but very sweet when it is ripe. This heart-shaped fruit symbolizes the kindness of the Filipinos. It has a big tree that bears fruits abundantly during summer. National Animal A carabao is a model of hard work and industry. It is the best companion of farmers in the field. It is black and looks like a tamaraw. A carabao is a very strong animal in terms of work. It symbolizes the Filipinos as hardworking and patient. National Bird The Philippine eagle, also known as haribon, stands over 5 feet (1.6 m) tall. It has a large, sharp, and aggressive beak and has powerful talons. Philippine eagles are excellent hunters, and live in tropical rainforests. These eagles lay just one or two eggs each year. National Tree The narra is a hardy tree that grows big and is found mainly in the Bicol Region, Mindanao, and Cagayan Valley forests. Most of the desks and tables in schools are made of narra. It signifies the strong personality of Filipinos in facing trials in life. National Flower The sampaguita has white, star-shaped petals with a sweet fragrance. It is made into garlands, which are given to visitors and special persons on occasions. It signifies purity and among Filipino women. National Fish Bangus or milkfish is our national fish. It grows in ponds or freshwater and tastes delicious. Its white, shiny scales signify our beautiful country. National Dance Cariñosa is a dance of love using a handkerchief and a fan. It symbolizes the true love expressed by Filipinos. National House A nipa hut is a small but beautiful house made from bamboo and sawali or cogon leaves. Filipinos used this kind of house during the olden times. At present, there are still people using this as a dwelling place, but most of the time, they use it as a rest place or cottage. National Costume Barong Tagalog is the national costume for Filipino men. It is made from pineapple fiber or other native materials. Filipinos wear this on special occasions such as formal events or weddings. Baro at Saya is the national dress for Filipino women. Most of them are made from jusi or pineapple fiber and other native materials. This dress shows the gracefulness of Filipino women. National Leaf Our national leaf is a palm tree. It is wide and narrow like an open fan. Farmers use this to protect their crops from the harsh sunlight and rain. It grows like a tree with thorns in its body. National Language Our national language is Filipino, which is based in Tagalog. Through the efforts of former President Manuel L. Quezon (known as the "Father of the National Language"), Filipino was widely disseminated and is now used in all parts of the country. With this, Filipinos in different cultures and native tongues can still communicate with each other. National Food Lechon (litson) is an important dish served at many occasions, especially on fiestas. Lechon is a suckling pig, slowly roasted over live coals to make it crispy and tasty. National Footwear Bakya is the national footwear of the Philippines. It was most popular from the 1950s to the 1970s before the introduction of rubber slippers. There are several colors and designs of bakya that suit the taste of most Filipinos. Valuing Our National Symbols Symbols represent a country and its people. We have to respect and value these symbols because they tell something about our country and of who we are as Filipinos. Here are some ways of valuing our national symbols: When singing the national anthem, stand straight and place your right hand on your left chest. Remove your cap or close your umbrella. Ask the people walking to stop while the flag is being raised. Tell other children to stop chatting while singing the national anthem. Most importantly, sing the national anthem wholeheartedly. Retirement of a Flag: A worn-out flag should be disposed of respectfully. It should be burned in a dignified ceremony, not thrown away or used for other purposes. Help in saving and conserving our forests. They serve as habitat of our national bird and other animals. You may also help organizations that promote reforestation, clean and green programs, and tree planting activities. Do not pick flowers when visiting parks. Instead, help in keeping these places clean and beautiful. Avoid throwing thrash in their surroundings. Patronize products that are made here in our country and made by Filipinos. Tell your family and friends to buy products of the Philippines especially those of which are our national symbol. Aside from patronizing our own products, let us use and love our national language. It is good to learn foreign languages, but do not forget to use our own language correctly and proudly.

Timmy: Dad, what's this animal? Dad: It's a cheetah. The cheetah is one of the fastest animals in the world. Timmy: Dad, what's that animal hanging in the tree? Dad: It's a sloth. Sloths are some of the slowest animals in the world. Timmy: Dad, what's this big animal? Dad: It's a blue whale. The blue whale is the biggest animal in the world. Timmy: Are all the animals in the ocean big? Dad: No, some are small, like shrimp. Shrimp are some of the smallest animals in the ocean.

Ow are you? like the new flat in New York. It isn't big, but it's very nice. It's in a tall building. There are lots of kids my age in the building. Oliver is 10 years old, like me. We're in the same class. Oliver has a very big flat. There's a game room with a sofa, a big TV, a computer and lots of games Gota is also 10 years old. But we aren't in the same class. Gota is from Japan He has a cool guitar. It's blue, black and green. Molly is 11 years old. She's in grade 6. She has a very special cat. It sits on the toilet! It's funny to see a cat in the bathroom. Now Molly wants to teach her cat to ride a skateboard )סקייטבורד / لوح التزلج( I'm going to Oliver's flat now. Write to me soon,

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