Theme Practice

Mommy De recognizes my diploma. Her smile reaches her eyes, she parts her lips, and mumbles a string of words her mind has tried to sort into a sentence—she’s almost as happy about my degree as she was when I walked in the room. I think of the day my mother received her Master’s from Penn2, and I’m glad that my grandmother could speak her joy clearly then. As pleased as I am that she can spill messy, jubilant3 recognition when I come to visit, I feel a little guilty that mom has to call herself “Bethy,” to answer the inevitable “Who are you,” coax a smile of semi-memory. The fact that Mommy De recalls my face, if not my name makes me uneasy when I think of my uncle Conrad who is never “Henry,” “brother,” or another alias used to mask the disease, just a man with a beard who never stays for as long as he has driven to visit. Even my aunt Annette, who shares that name with her mother, lives in the same city and visits more often than me is never someone Mommy De knows on sight. I put my diploma away, produce graduation pictures hesitantly, reluctant to identify three children to their mother. Why is the speaker visiting their grandmother?

Mommy De recognizes my diploma. Her smile reaches her eyes, she parts her lips, and mumbles a string of words her mind has tried to sort into a sentence—she’s almost as happy about my degree as she was when I walked in the room. I think of the day my mother received her Master’s from Penn, and I’m glad that my grandmother could speak her joy clearly then. As pleased as I am that she can spill messy, jubilant recognition when I come to visit, I feel a little guilty that mom has to call herself “Bethy,” to answer the inevitable “Who are you,” coax a smile of semi-memory. The fact that Mommy De recalls my face, if not my name makes me uneasy when I think of my uncle Conrad who is never “Henry,” “brother,” or another alias used to mask the disease, just a man with a beard who never stays for as long as he has driven to visit. Even my aunt Annette, who shares that name with her mother, lives in the same city and visits more often than me is never someone Mommy De knows on sight. I put my diploma away, produce graduation pictures hesitantly, reluctant to identify three children to their mother. Why does the speaker feel guilty?

Mommy De recognizes my diploma. Her smile reaches her eyes, she parts her lips, and mumbles a string of words her mind has tried to sort into a sentence—she’s almost as happy about my degree as she was when I walked in the room. I think of the day my mother received her Master’s from Penn, and I’m glad that my grandmother could speak her joy clearly then. As pleased as I am that she can spill messy, jubilant recognition when I come to visit, I feel a little guilty that mom has to call herself “Bethy,” to answer the inevitable “Who are you,” coax a smile of semi-memory. The fact that Mommy De recalls my face, if not my name makes me uneasy when I think of my uncle Conrad who is never “Henry,” “brother,” or another alias used to mask the disease, just a man with a beard who never stays for as long as he has driven to visit. Even my aunt Annette, who shares that name with her mother, lives in the same city and visits more often than me is never someone Mommy De knows on sight. I put my diploma away, produce graduation pictures hesitantly, reluctant to identify three children to their mother. Why does the speaker have to identify the people to Mommy De?

Mommy De recognizes my diploma. Her smile reaches her eyes, she parts her lips, and mumbles a string of words her mind has tried to sort into a sentence—she’s almost as happy about my degree as she was when I walked in the room. I think of the day my mother received her Master’s from Penn, and I’m glad that my grandmother could speak her joy clearly then. As pleased as I am that she can spill messy, jubilant recognition when I come to visit, I feel a little guilty that mom has to call herself “Bethy,” to answer the inevitable “Who are you,” coax a smile of semi-memory. The fact that Mommy De recalls my face, if not my name makes me uneasy when I think of my uncle Conrad who is never “Henry,” “brother,” or another alias used to mask the disease, just a man with a beard who never stays for as long as he has driven to visit. Even my aunt Annette, who shares that name with her mother, lives in the same city and visits more often than me is never someone Mommy De knows on sight. I put my diploma away, produce graduation pictures hesitantly, reluctant to identify three children to their mother. Which statement best expresses the theme of the poem?

Mommy De recognizes my diploma. Her smile reaches her eyes, she parts her lips, and mumbles a string of words her mind has tried to sort into a sentence—she’s almost as happy about my degree as she was when I walked in the room. I think of the day my mother received her Master’s from Penn, and I’m glad that my grandmother could speak her joy clearly then. As pleased as I am that she can spill messy, jubilant recognition when I come to visit, I feel a little guilty that mom has to call herself “Bethy,” to answer the inevitable “Who are you,” coax a smile of semi-memory. The fact that Mommy De recalls my face, if not my name makes me uneasy when I think of my uncle Conrad who is never “Henry,” “brother,” or another alias used to mask the disease, just a man with a beard who never stays for as long as he has driven to visit. Even my aunt Annette, who shares that name with her mother, lives in the same city and visits more often than me is never someone Mommy De knows on sight. I put my diploma away, produce graduation pictures hesitantly, reluctant to identify three children to their mother. How does Mommy De’s failing memory most affect the speaker?

We have been friends together, In sunshine and in shade; Since first beneath the chestnut-trees In infancy we played. But coldness dwells within thy1 heart, A cloud is on thy brow; We have been friends together — Shall a light word part us now? We have been gay (gay as in happy) together; We have laugh’d at little jests; For the fount of hope was gushing Warm and joyous in our breasts. But laughter now hath fled thy lip, And sullen glooms thy brow; We have been gay (gay as in happy) together — Shall a light word part us now? We have been sad together, We have wept, with bitter tears, O’er the grass-grown graves, where slumber’d The hopes of early years. The voices which are silent there Would bid thee clear thy brow; We have been sad together — Oh! what shall part us now? Which of the following describes the conflict between the friends?

We have been friends together, In sunshine and in shade; Since first beneath the chestnut-trees In infancy we played. But coldness dwells within thy1 heart, A cloud is on thy brow; We have been friends together — Shall a light word part us now? We have been gay (gay as in happy) together; We have laugh’d at little jests; For the fount of hope was gushing Warm and joyous in our breasts. But laughter now hath fled thy lip, And sullen glooms thy brow; We have been gay (gay as in happy) together — Shall a light word part us now? We have been sad together, We have wept, with bitter tears, O’er the grass-grown graves, where slumber’d The hopes of early years. The voices which are silent there Would bid thee clear thy brow; We have been sad together — Oh! what shall part us now? Which of the following describes the friends?

We have been friends together, In sunshine and in shade; Since first beneath the chestnut-trees In infancy we played. But coldness dwells within thy heart, A cloud is on thy brow; We have been friends together — Shall a light word part us now? We have been gay (gay as in happy) together; We have laugh’d at little jests; For the fount of hope was gushing Warm and joyous in our breasts. But laughter now hath fled thy lip, And sullen glooms thy brow; We have been gay (gay as in happy) together — Shall a light word part us now? We have been sad together, We have wept, with bitter tears, O’er the grass-grown graves, where slumber’d The hopes of early years. The voices which are silent there Would bid thee clear thy brow; We have been sad together — Oh! what shall part us now? The speaker wants their friend to…

We have been friends together, In sunshine and in shade; Since first beneath the chestnut-trees In infancy we played. But coldness dwells within thy heart, A cloud is on thy brow; We have been friends together — Shall a light word part us now? We have been gay (gay as in happy) together; We have laugh’d at little jests; For the fount of hope was gushing Warm and joyous in our breasts. But laughter now hath fled thy lip, And sullen glooms thy brow; We have been gay (gay as in happy) together — Shall a light word part us now? We have been sad together, We have wept, with bitter tears, O’er the grass-grown graves, where slumber’d The hopes of early years. The voices which are silent there Would bid thee clear thy brow; We have been sad together — Oh! what shall part us now? Which statement best expresses a theme of the poem?

According to the witches, __________________ will be the father of kings.

In the beginning, Macbeth is Thane of ________________.

Why does Macbeth become Thane of Cawdor?

Which excerpt from the text best demonstrates that Banquo doesn't trust the witches?

Which excerpt from the text best demonstrates that Lady Macbeth is insincere and deceitful?

What is a theme?