SHSAT English Language Arts Quiz: Explicit Detail Retrieval

Massachusetts: Lowell National Historical Park

(1) During the first half of the 19th century, Lowell, Massachusetts, quickly transformed itself from a farm town to a bustling industrial city. In time, Lowell became a model of industry, gaining global recognition for its state-of-the-art technology, innovative canal and dam system, mill architecture, boardinghouses, churches, and ethnic neighborhoods. Young Yankee women, immigrant families, and European tourists all flocked to Lowell to find work at one of the many textile mills, or visit the industrious city that was becoming a popular tourist destination. As one Scottish traveler observed during his visit to America, "Niagara and Lowell are the two objects I will longest remember in my American journey, the one the glory of American scenery, the other of American industry." Today, Lowell National Historical Park welcomes visitors to enjoy the sights of Lowell and learn about the history of one of America's most significant industrial cities.

(2) The Boston merchants who founded Lowell in 1821 and named it after Francis Cabot Lowell chose to locate the town along Massachusetts's Merrimack River to take advantage of the kinetic energy offered by the Pawtucket waterfalls. Over six miles of canals powered the waterwheels of Lowell's mills, whose massive five- and six-story brick buildings dominated the city's landscape. ... By the 1850s, 40 textile mills employing over 10,000 workers stretched for about a mile along the river. ...

(3) The city's female workforce was significant in the history of Lowell. From the early to mid-1800s, women left the constricted lifestyle of small rural towns and rural areas for independent industrial city life. Most were young single Yankee girls, who were tired of the limited opportunities offered by their domestic work. Women found that Lowell's mills offered monthly wages for their services and provided them room and board. Although these women gained economic independence in Lowell, the mill boardinghouse keepers constantly supervised their social activities, for which they hardly had any time, considering their daily 12- to 14-hour work schedules. At the end of the day, the factory bell signaled the "mill girls" to return to their boardinghouses. They were expected to adhere to the strict code of conduct respecting curfew and attending church.

(4) Yankee "mill girls" continued to dominate the Lowell workforce until the 1840s, when the city began to find it difficult to compete with the growing industrial development in other New England communities. As profits fell, the mill industry cut wages. These wage cuts, deteriorating working conditions, and long workdays led the "mill girls" to protest and organize strikes. When their demands went unheard, the women left Lowell, and immigrant groups replaced them in the workforce. Despite the low wages and unhealthy work conditions, immigrants were eager to find work.

(5) The immigrants replacing the Yankee "mill girls" during the 1840s were predominantly Irish Catholics, who traveled to America during the Great Potato Famine. Although Lowell received an influx of Irish families during this time, the Irish were a part of the city's history from its birth, and before the "mill girls" arrived, they built Lowell's historic canals, mills, and boardinghouses. Initially, Lowell's Protestant community was slow to welcome Irish immigrants, but the hostility between Yankee Protestants and Irish Catholics eventually disappeared. Irish immigrants dominated the industrial scene until the Civil War, when other immigrant groups began to work in the city mills.

(6) Like the Irish, the French-Canadians, Greeks, Poles, Portuguese, Russian Jews, and Armenians who came to work in Lowell's mills faced long work hours, low wages, and poor living conditions in the city's crowded tenements. By the time Lowell's industry declined, the city had become an ethnic melting pot, where each group claimed its own distinct neighborhood, like the Irish immigrants' "New Dublin" or "Acre," and the French-Canadians' "Little Canada." The city officially began to close down its mills in the 1920s and '30s after Lowell's outdated mills could no longer compete against the state-of-the-art cotton mills in other communities and working conditions continued to decline as Lowell's companies stopped reinvesting in their mills. ... Despite a brief resurgence during World War II, the city shut down its last surviving mill by the mid-1950s.

The passage identifies 'New Dublin' or 'Acre' as the distinct neighborhood of which immigrant group?

Massachusetts: Lowell National Historical Park

(1) During the first half of the 19th century, Lowell, Massachusetts, quickly transformed itself from a farm town to a bustling industrial city. In time, Lowell became a model of industry, gaining global recognition for its state-of-the-art technology, innovative canal and dam system, mill architecture, boardinghouses, churches, and ethnic neighborhoods. Young Yankee women, immigrant families, and European tourists all flocked to Lowell to find work at one of the many textile mills, or visit the industrious city that was becoming a popular tourist destination. As one Scottish traveler observed during his visit to America, "Niagara and Lowell are the two objects I will longest remember in my American journey, the one the glory of American scenery, the other of American industry." Today, Lowell National Historical Park welcomes visitors to enjoy the sights of Lowell and learn about the history of one of America's most significant industrial cities.

(2) The Boston merchants who founded Lowell in 1821 and named it after Francis Cabot Lowell chose to locate the town along Massachusetts's Merrimack River to take advantage of the kinetic energy offered by the Pawtucket waterfalls. Over six miles of canals powered the waterwheels of Lowell's mills, whose massive five- and six-story brick buildings dominated the city's landscape. ... By the 1850s, 40 textile mills employing over 10,000 workers stretched for about a mile along the river. ...

(3) The city's female workforce was significant in the history of Lowell. From the early to mid-1800s, women left the constricted lifestyle of small rural towns and rural areas for independent industrial city life. Most were young single Yankee girls, who were tired of the limited opportunities offered by their domestic work. Women found that Lowell's mills offered monthly wages for their services and provided them room and board. Although these women gained economic independence in Lowell, the mill boardinghouse keepers constantly supervised their social activities, for which they hardly had any time, considering their daily 12- to 14-hour work schedules. At the end of the day, the factory bell signaled the "mill girls" to return to their boardinghouses. They were expected to adhere to the strict code of conduct respecting curfew and attending church.

(4) Yankee "mill girls" continued to dominate the Lowell workforce until the 1840s, when the city began to find it difficult to compete with the growing industrial development in other New England communities. As profits fell, the mill industry cut wages. These wage cuts, deteriorating working conditions, and long workdays led the "mill girls" to protest and organize strikes. When their demands went unheard, the women left Lowell, and immigrant groups replaced them in the workforce. Despite the low wages and unhealthy work conditions, immigrants were eager to find work.

(5) The immigrants replacing the Yankee "mill girls" during the 1840s were predominantly Irish Catholics, who traveled to America during the Great Potato Famine. Although Lowell received an influx of Irish families during this time, the Irish were a part of the city's history from its birth, and before the "mill girls" arrived, they built Lowell's historic canals, mills, and boardinghouses. Initially, Lowell's Protestant community was slow to welcome Irish immigrants, but the hostility between Yankee Protestants and Irish Catholics eventually disappeared. Irish immigrants dominated the industrial scene until the Civil War, when other immigrant groups began to work in the city mills.

(6) Like the Irish, the French-Canadians, Greeks, Poles, Portuguese, Russian Jews, and Armenians who came to work in Lowell's mills faced long work hours, low wages, and poor living conditions in the city's crowded tenements. By the time Lowell's industry declined, the city had become an ethnic melting pot, where each group claimed its own distinct neighborhood, like the Irish immigrants' "New Dublin" or "Acre," and the French-Canadians' "Little Canada." The city officially began to close down its mills in the 1920s and '30s after Lowell's outdated mills could no longer compete against the state-of-the-art cotton mills in other communities and working conditions continued to decline as Lowell's companies stopped reinvesting in their mills. ... Despite a brief resurgence during World War II, the city shut down its last surviving mill by the mid-1950s.

What was one of the reasons listed in the passage that led the 'mill girls' to protest and organize strikes?

Massachusetts: Lowell National Historical Park

(1) During the first half of the 19th century, Lowell, Massachusetts, quickly transformed itself from a farm town to a bustling industrial city. In time, Lowell became a model of industry, gaining global recognition for its state-of-the-art technology, innovative canal and dam system, mill architecture, boardinghouses, churches, and ethnic neighborhoods. Young Yankee women, immigrant families, and European tourists all flocked to Lowell to find work at one of the many textile mills, or visit the industrious city that was becoming a popular tourist destination. As one Scottish traveler observed during his visit to America, "Niagara and Lowell are the two objects I will longest remember in my American journey, the one the glory of American scenery, the other of American industry." Today, Lowell National Historical Park welcomes visitors to enjoy the sights of Lowell and learn about the history of one of America's most significant industrial cities.

(2) The Boston merchants who founded Lowell in 1821 and named it after Francis Cabot Lowell chose to locate the town along Massachusetts's Merrimack River to take advantage of the kinetic energy offered by the Pawtucket waterfalls. Over six miles of canals powered the waterwheels of Lowell's mills, whose massive five- and six-story brick buildings dominated the city's landscape. ... By the 1850s, 40 textile mills employing over 10,000 workers stretched for about a mile along the river. ...

(3) The city's female workforce was significant in the history of Lowell. From the early to mid-1800s, women left the constricted lifestyle of small rural towns and rural areas for independent industrial city life. Most were young single Yankee girls, who were tired of the limited opportunities offered by their domestic work. Women found that Lowell's mills offered monthly wages for their services and provided them room and board. Although these women gained economic independence in Lowell, the mill boardinghouse keepers constantly supervised their social activities, for which they hardly had any time, considering their daily 12- to 14-hour work schedules. At the end of the day, the factory bell signaled the "mill girls" to return to their boardinghouses. They were expected to adhere to the strict code of conduct respecting curfew and attending church.

(4) Yankee "mill girls" continued to dominate the Lowell workforce until the 1840s, when the city began to find it difficult to compete with the growing industrial development in other New England communities. As profits fell, the mill industry cut wages. These wage cuts, deteriorating working conditions, and long workdays led the "mill girls" to protest and organize strikes. When their demands went unheard, the women left Lowell, and immigrant groups replaced them in the workforce. Despite the low wages and unhealthy work conditions, immigrants were eager to find work.

(5) The immigrants replacing the Yankee "mill girls" during the 1840s were predominantly Irish Catholics, who traveled to America during the Great Potato Famine. Although Lowell received an influx of Irish families during this time, the Irish were a part of the city's history from its birth, and before the "mill girls" arrived, they built Lowell's historic canals, mills, and boardinghouses. Initially, Lowell's Protestant community was slow to welcome Irish immigrants, but the hostility between Yankee Protestants and Irish Catholics eventually disappeared. Irish immigrants dominated the industrial scene until the Civil War, when other immigrant groups began to work in the city mills.

(6) Like the Irish, the French-Canadians, Greeks, Poles, Portuguese, Russian Jews, and Armenians who came to work in Lowell's mills faced long work hours, low wages, and poor living conditions in the city's crowded tenements. By the time Lowell's industry declined, the city had become an ethnic melting pot, where each group claimed its own distinct neighborhood, like the Irish immigrants' "New Dublin" or "Acre," and the French-Canadians' "Little Canada." The city officially began to close down its mills in the 1920s and '30s after Lowell's outdated mills could no longer compete against the state-of-the-art cotton mills in other communities and working conditions continued to decline as Lowell's companies stopped reinvesting in their mills. ... Despite a brief resurgence during World War II, the city shut down its last surviving mill by the mid-1950s.

During which period did the city of Lowell officially begin to close down its mills?

Excerpt from "Do Them No Harm!" by Zoa L. Swayne

(1) In the moon of Ta-Yum, the hottest days of summer, when salmon spawn in the little streams and huckleberries ripen in the high mountains, people from many villages of the Chopunnish Nation gathered in the Oyaip Prairie for the work and festivities of their annual camas harvest.

(2) From far and near The People came....

(3) Should a stranger enter their homeland and ask, "Where are you from?" the reply was always, "We are Nee-mee-poo, The People who live here in this place."

(4) It was a time of Lawtiwa-mah-ton—a time of being friends together—when The People came for this last chance to enjoy being together before the Cold Moons kept them close to their fires. The visiting and trading, the foot racing and horse racing, and the gambling and stick games would be remembered and talked about long after they had forgotten the drudgery of digging and roasting camas, picking berries, or drying meat and fish. Lawtiwa-mah-ton! It was good to be friends together.

(5) As was their custom since wahk-kee-ma, a time far back beyond the memory of man, they set up their camps in the same locations their parents and grandparents had occupied before them. Red Bear's people, from Kamiah, made their camp near the trail that came out of the mountains. Their neighbors in Kamiah Valley, The People from Tee-e-lap-a-lo, had their camp close by. Across the wide meadow, by the great roasting pits, the camps of the Te-wap-poo and Ask-kah-poo were located. The tepees and ish-nash, brush shelters, of other groups nestled in their accustomed areas in and among the pines in such numbers that they encircled the entire meadow land.

(6) Red Bear's people had traveled all summer with neighboring bands, gathering and preparing roots, picking and drying berries, drying and smoking meat and fish for their winter food supply. Now they were at the Oyaip camp. The women worked hard to dig and cure as many bags of roots as they could during the warm, sunny days, for the sharp night air brought warnings that WARM was going and COLD was coming.

(7) Everyone helped in some way. Most of the men fished or hunted for meat. While many of the women dug and roasted camas, other women and older children picked and dried berries.

(8) And the younger children played. They played at hunting. They played with the babies. They played with their horses and puppies. They learned how to live through their play.

(9) This sun, happiness, peace, and quiet blessed the Red Bear camp. All were busy with their daily tasks, until sudden cries came from the children playing by the trail.

(10) —"People coming! People coming! People coming on the trail from the high mountains!" they called as they ran to their elders, who looked sharply at the figures of approaching horsemen.

(11) Were they friends or enemies? Did they bring good news or bad?

(12) "Who can it be? What brings them here?" were the questions in every mind.

(13) "Could they be the four hunters who had gone to Buffalo Country two summers past? Would they have news of the families who had gone long ago to Buffalo Country and never returned?"

(14) It was customary for a hunting party to be gone for more than one season.

(15) —"Looks like hunters," the older men agreed. ... "Maybe our four hunters..."

(16) —"Looks like five people—not four," others observed.

(17) Excitement grew as the riders came close enough to be recognized.

(18) "A-a-a-a-a, they are our four hunters! But who is the fifth person?" they asked.

(19) "Looks like a woman. Who is she?"

(20) The hunters rode up to the welcoming crowd, proud to show off the loads of meat, hides, and other trophies of their hunt. They paraded around the encampment for all to see how strong their Hunting Power had been—what great hunters they, themselves, were.

(21) Red Bear's people rejoiced at their hunters' success. Good hunters brought good to everybody. The meat meant plenty of food and the hides meant soft-tanned robes to give comfort through the Cold Moons. But it was the sight of the frail figure of the woman that aroused their curiosity. Who was she? Where had she come from?

(22) Now they could see! She was the daughter of the family gone so long ago! The girl-child who had left came back now—a grown woman.

(23) "Wat-ku-ese!" the women cried. "Gone-from-Home-then-Come-Back. Wat-ku-ese!" And Wat-ku-ese was her name from that time on.

(24) Gentle arms lifted Wat-ku-ese from her horse. The women brought her food and made a place for her to rest. For many suns they cared for her until she became stronger.

(25) One evening Wat-ku-ese told her story for all to hear.

According to the passage, the Chopunnish Nation's annual gathering occurred during the moon of Ta-Yum, which is described as

Excerpt from "Do Them No Harm!" by Zoa L. Swayne

(1) In the moon of Ta-Yum, the hottest days of summer, when salmon spawn in the little streams and huckleberries ripen in the high mountains, people from many villages of the Chopunnish Nation gathered in the Oyaip Prairie for the work and festivities of their annual camas harvest.

(2) From far and near The People came....

(3) Should a stranger enter their homeland and ask, "Where are you from?" the reply was always, "We are Nee-mee-poo, The People who live here in this place."

(4) It was a time of Lawtiwa-mah-ton—a time of being friends together—when The People came for this last chance to enjoy being together before the Cold Moons kept them close to their fires. The visiting and trading, the foot racing and horse racing, and the gambling and stick games would be remembered and talked about long after they had forgotten the drudgery of digging and roasting camas, picking berries, or drying meat and fish. Lawtiwa-mah-ton! It was good to be friends together.

(5) As was their custom since wahk-kee-ma, a time far back beyond the memory of man, they set up their camps in the same locations their parents and grandparents had occupied before them. Red Bear's people, from Kamiah, made their camp near the trail that came out of the mountains. Their neighbors in Kamiah Valley, The People from Tee-e-lap-a-lo, had their camp close by. Across the wide meadow, by the great roasting pits, the camps of the Te-wap-poo and Ask-kah-poo were located. The tepees and ish-nash, brush shelters, of other groups nestled in their accustomed areas in and among the pines in such numbers that they encircled the entire meadow land.

(6) Red Bear's people had traveled all summer with neighboring bands, gathering and preparing roots, picking and drying berries, drying and smoking meat and fish for their winter food supply. Now they were at the Oyaip camp. The women worked hard to dig and cure as many bags of roots as they could during the warm, sunny days, for the sharp night air brought warnings that WARM was going and COLD was coming.

(7) Everyone helped in some way. Most of the men fished or hunted for meat. While many of the women dug and roasted camas, other women and older children picked and dried berries.

(8) And the younger children played. They played at hunting. They played with the babies. They played with their horses and puppies. They learned how to live through their play.

(9) This sun, happiness, peace, and quiet blessed the Red Bear camp. All were busy with their daily tasks, until sudden cries came from the children playing by the trail.

(10) —"People coming! People coming! People coming on the trail from the high mountains!" they called as they ran to their elders, who looked sharply at the figures of approaching horsemen.

(11) Were they friends or enemies? Did they bring good news or bad?

(12) "Who can it be? What brings them here?" were the questions in every mind.

(13) "Could they be the four hunters who had gone to Buffalo Country two summers past? Would they have news of the families who had gone long ago to Buffalo Country and never returned?"

(14) It was customary for a hunting party to be gone for more than one season.

(15) —"Looks like hunters," the older men agreed. ... "Maybe our four hunters..."

(16) —"Looks like five people—not four," others observed.

(17) Excitement grew as the riders came close enough to be recognized.

(18) "A-a-a-a-a, they are our four hunters! But who is the fifth person?" they asked.

(19) "Looks like a woman. Who is she?"

(20) The hunters rode up to the welcoming crowd, proud to show off the loads of meat, hides, and other trophies of their hunt. They paraded around the encampment for all to see how strong their Hunting Power had been—what great hunters they, themselves, were.

(21) Red Bear's people rejoiced at their hunters' success. Good hunters brought good to everybody. The meat meant plenty of food and the hides meant soft-tanned robes to give comfort through the Cold Moons. But it was the sight of the frail figure of the woman that aroused their curiosity. Who was she? Where had she come from?

(22) Now they could see! She was the daughter of the family gone so long ago! The girl-child who had left came back now—a grown woman.

(23) "Wat-ku-ese!" the women cried. "Gone-from-Home-then-Come-Back. Wat-ku-ese!" And Wat-ku-ese was her name from that time on.

(24) Gentle arms lifted Wat-ku-ese from her horse. The women brought her food and made a place for her to rest. For many suns they cared for her until she became stronger.

(25) One evening Wat-ku-ese told her story for all to hear.

How long had the four hunters been away from their people before they returned?

Excerpt from "Winter Wheat" by Mildred Walker

(1) I love Dad's way of talking that makes him seem different from other ranchers. He's lived here twenty-three years, but he still says "back East where I come from." He's the one who gets excited when I do about spring coming or a serial running in the magazine we're both reading, but it's what Mom says that I depend on. When Mom used to say "Don't worry" about my pet chicken or dog or new calf, it always got well. Dad is always talking of going some place, not now, but next year, maybe. Mom seems to think of nothing farther away than today or perhaps yesterday or tomorrow morning.

(2) Mom folded the ironing board and put it inside their bedroom that was just off the kitchen. She carried in the freshly ironed clothes. Dad went back to his paper. When Mom came back she took beans from the cupboard to soak for tomorrow. Dad always said Mom could make all the dishes he'd had back in Vermont as well as though she were a New Englander herself, instead of a Russian. All of a sudden, I realized that tomorrow when those beans would be ready to eat I'd be going away. It gave me a funny feeling.

(3) "I'll be taking the train tomorrow night," I said aloud, more to hear it myself.

(4) "We can drive you into town in the afternoon," Dad said, dropping his paper on the floor.

(5) "There's no need to go to town; she can catch the train at Gotham just as well. We haven't nothing to take us into town for," Mom said.

(6) "Well, we don't have to decide tonight," Dad said, but I knew he wanted to go into Clark City. It wouldn't be so flat as just seeing me go off on the train from Gotham. My going away was hard on both of them; they were so different—and I was part of them both. It made me uncomfortable to think of leaving them.

(7) While I was getting ready for bed in my room that's off the front room, I saw how it would be if I left from town. We'd go in right after dinner and go around to the stores, Dad going one way and Mom and I another. Dad would probably have his hair cut at the barbershop and stop in the bank and meet someone he knew to talk to. Then we'd meet at the big store on the corner and go to the cafeteria for supper. The train stops ten minutes or so at the station in town and there are other people and excitement and you have time to wave from the platform and then again from your window by your seat. We went to the station in Clark City to see the Goodals off when they went back to Iowa.

(8) If I left from Gotham, we'd just drive down in the truck and wait till the train came. It only stops long enough for you to get on and you hardly have time to taste the flavor of going away.

(9) I sat on the bed in my pyjamas with my arms around my knees. I couldn't keep from thinking of that time Dad went back East. I tried to, and then I just sat still and looked straight at it. Sometimes that's better than working so hard to keep from looking at what's in your mind.

(10) Dad went all the way back to Vermont. ... It was in November and it was already dark when the train came through Gotham. Even now, I could feel how cold and dark it was. I held Mom's hand. Dad was so dressed-up he seemed strange.... We stood there without saying anything until Dad told Mom to remember to call Mr. Bardich, our neighbor, if the cow didn't calve tomorrow.

(11) "I'll manage," Mom snapped back.

(12) "I wish you could go, Anna," Dad said to Mom, "and we could take Ellen." ...

(13) "Good-by, Anna Petrovna," he said, looking at Mom. I had never heard him call her by two names before.

(14) "Good-by," Mom said, standing still, without smiling.

(15) Then he was gone and the crossroads were darker than ever. The train light shone on the high window in the top of the grain elevator for a moment and then that too was dark. We got into our old Ford and Mom drove back to the house. My throat ached all the way. The name Dad had called Mom kept saying itself in my ears: "Anna Petrovna, Anna Petrovna." ...

(16) Our house seemed lonely when we came back to it. It seemed to be hiding under the coulee. I went with Mom to put the truck in the barn that was bigger than the house. I think Mom was prouder of our barn than the house, anyway. We walked back to look at the cow that was going to calve. She was just a big light blob in the dark, waiting. I had thought she was exciting this morning, but now she seemed sad, too.

(17) The wind blew when we walked across the open space to the house and I couldn't help shivering with the cold. Inside the house it was warm, but empty.

(18) "Bring your nightgown in here and I heat you some milk," Mom said.

(19) I drank the milk sitting on a stool in front of the stove. It tasted good, but the lonely ache in my throat was still there. I picked up my clothes and hung them neatly behind the stove and put my cup on the sink board. Mom was fixing oatmeal for tomorrow morning.

(20) "Good night, Mom," I said almost timidly, standing beside her. She seemed wrapped around in a kind of strangeness. Then she turned around and drew me to her. The front of her dress was warm from the stove. I felt the comfortable heat through my gown. She laid her hand against my face and it felt rough and hard but firm. I dared ask her something I wanted to know.

(21) "Mom, was that really your name—what Dad called you?"

(22) Her voice sounded surprised. "Why, Yelena, you know that; Anna Petrovna. You know I am born in Russia, in Seletskoe."

(23) "Yes, but I didn't know your other name," I said.

(24) "Anna Petrovna Webb." She pronounced it slowly. "Once I think what a funny name Ben Webb is!" She laughed. Her laugh was warm and low like our kitchen, and comfortable. The house seemed natural and right again....

(25) But now that I am grown, I feel the wall of strangeness between them, more than when I was a child. I wondered how they would get along without me.

The passage states that after her father left on the train, the narrator's mother gave her

Excerpt from "Scribe Like an Egyptian" by Hilary Wilson

(1) In ancient Egypt, literacy was the key to success. However, contrary to popular belief, not all Egyptian scribes understood hieroglyphs. Many relied instead on the simpler hieratic script for the multitude of everyday documents generated by the Egyptian bureaucracy.

(2) Hieroglyphs—"the Words of God"—compose a writing system with more than 1,000 distinct characters, the meanings of which were lost for 1,500 years before they were deciphered by Jean-François Champollion in 1822. Including both ideograms (which convey a whole word or idea, either concrete or abstract, in a single sign) and phonograms (representing either an alphabetic sound or a group of consonants), [the writing system] was used in formal inscriptions on tomb and temple walls as well as on elaborate funerary papyri. For everyday purposes, however, scribes used a shorthand version of the hieroglyphic script known as hieratic, which was quicker to write and more economical of space. The two writings existed side by side for at least 2,500 years.

(3) Scraps of ancient hieratic writing, mostly penned by student scribes on limestone flakes called ostraca, suggest that no matter how humble his origins, an educated Egyptian could achieve almost anything. Horemheb (d.1292 B.C.) is a good example. Born of middle-ranking parents, his scribal training led to an army career. From Scribe of Recruits, during the reign of Akhenaten (1353–1336 B.C.), Horemheb rose through the military ranks and, by the rule of Tutankhamun (1332–1323 B.C.), he was commander in chief of the Egyptian forces. As a close adviser of the young Pharaoh, Horemheb was appointed "Deputy of the King throughout the Two Lands," and might have expected to succeed to the throne should the king die childless. He had to wait a few years, but eventually Horemheb achieved the pinnacle of his career by becoming the last king of the 18th Dynasty, making his mark by instituting dramatic reforms to the organisation of the army, the judiciary and administration in general. The lasting success of these changes owed much to his scribal background...

(4) But education was not available to all. Government departments and major temples supported schools, where boys commenced their training at six or seven, sometimes earlier. To these boarding establishments ... family or household servants delivered the students' food and drink rations daily for several years, during which time the student was not contributing to the family's income. Boys from poorer families could only hope to be educated with support from a wealthier relative or patron, or through apprenticeship to an older scribe, perhaps the local clerk or land agent, who would teach them the basics of the scribe's craft. This limited the scope for employment but such "on the job" training allowed apprentices to help out at home while learning....

(5) Scribal education began with the elementary principles of the hieratic script. The lowliest scribes, who trained for just five or six years, probably learned only the rudiments of the hieroglyphic script. Students were set exemplar documents and extracts from popular texts to copy, to practice their hieratic handwriting on basic-format letters, reports and contracts, while absorbing the good advice contained in the texts. Surviving examples of copy-work sometimes include tutors' corrections added in red. Some significant Egyptian literary works survive almost exclusively from student copies.

(6) A schoolboy "dictionary" of hieroglyphs with their hieratic equivalents shows that a knowledge of more than 450 signs was required for everyday writing purposes. Lessons in record-keeping and filing and labelling enabled any half-competent scribe to perform that most essential of all scribal functions: the making and updating of lists. For professions such as those of government official, priest or lawyer, a scribe would train for several more years, increasing his vocabulary to perhaps a thousand or more signs. Those with the best handwriting or drawing skills might follow the craft of creating beautifully illustrated copies of funerary texts, commonly called Books of the Dead. Others could become draughtsmen, artists or architects. Doctors compiled their own collections of medication recipes, treatments and associated incantations, many copied from texts found in the House of Life, the temple library. Lawyers had to be familiar with the corpus of civil and religious laws and precedents found in the official records, which were administered by archivists. Egypt's bureaucratic society depended on the skills of an army of scribes of all ranks from filing clerk to tax assessor. For young Egyptians, "be a scribe" was the best of career advice.

What position did Horemheb hold during the rule of Tutankhamun?

Massachusetts: Lowell National Historical Park

(1) During the first half of the 19th century, Lowell, Massachusetts, quickly transformed itself from a farm town to a bustling industrial city. In time, Lowell became a model of industry, gaining global recognition for its state-of-the-art technology, innovative canal and dam system, mill architecture, boardinghouses, churches, and ethnic neighborhoods. Young Yankee women, immigrant families, and European tourists all flocked to Lowell to find work at one of the many textile mills, or visit the industrious city that was becoming a popular tourist destination. As one Scottish traveler observed during his visit to America, "Niagara and Lowell are the two objects I will longest remember in my American journey, the one the glory of American scenery, the other of American industry." Today, Lowell National Historical Park welcomes visitors to enjoy the sights of Lowell and learn about the history of one of America's most significant industrial cities.

(2) The Boston merchants who founded Lowell in 1821 and named it after Francis Cabot Lowell chose to locate the town along Massachusetts's Merrimack River to take advantage of the kinetic energy offered by the Pawtucket waterfalls. Over six miles of canals powered the waterwheels of Lowell's mills, whose massive five- and six-story brick buildings dominated the city's landscape. ... By the 1850s, 40 textile mills employing over 10,000 workers stretched for about a mile along the river. ...

(3) The city's female workforce was significant in the history of Lowell. From the early to mid-1800s, women left the constricted lifestyle of small rural towns and rural areas for independent industrial city life. Most were young single Yankee girls, who were tired of the limited opportunities offered by their domestic work. Women found that Lowell's mills offered monthly wages for their services and provided them room and board. Although these women gained economic independence in Lowell, the mill boardinghouse keepers constantly supervised their social activities, for which they hardly had any time, considering their daily 12- to 14-hour work schedules. At the end of the day, the factory bell signaled the "mill girls" to return to their boardinghouses. They were expected to adhere to the strict code of conduct respecting curfew and attending church.

(4) Yankee "mill girls" continued to dominate the Lowell workforce until the 1840s, when the city began to find it difficult to compete with the growing industrial development in other New England communities. As profits fell, the mill industry cut wages. These wage cuts, deteriorating working conditions, and long workdays led the "mill girls" to protest and organize strikes. When their demands went unheard, the women left Lowell, and immigrant groups replaced them in the workforce. Despite the low wages and unhealthy work conditions, immigrants were eager to find work.

(5) The immigrants replacing the Yankee "mill girls" during the 1840s were predominantly Irish Catholics, who traveled to America during the Great Potato Famine. Although Lowell received an influx of Irish families during this time, the Irish were a part of the city's history from its birth, and before the "mill girls" arrived, they built Lowell's historic canals, mills, and boardinghouses. Initially, Lowell's Protestant community was slow to welcome Irish immigrants, but the hostility between Yankee Protestants and Irish Catholics eventually disappeared. Irish immigrants dominated the industrial scene until the Civil War, when other immigrant groups began to work in the city mills.

(6) Like the Irish, the French-Canadians, Greeks, Poles, Portuguese, Russian Jews, and Armenians who came to work in Lowell's mills faced long work hours, low wages, and poor living conditions in the city's crowded tenements. By the time Lowell's industry declined, the city had become an ethnic melting pot, where each group claimed its own distinct neighborhood, like the Irish immigrants' "New Dublin" or "Acre," and the French-Canadians' "Little Canada." The city officially began to close down its mills in the 1920s and '30s after Lowell's outdated mills could no longer compete against the state-of-the-art cotton mills in other communities and working conditions continued to decline as Lowell's companies stopped reinvesting in their mills. ... Despite a brief resurgence during World War II, the city shut down its last surviving mill by the mid-1950s.

The passage mentions a Scottish traveler who compared the industry of Lowell to what other famous American sight?

Excerpt from "Do Them No Harm!" by Zoa L. Swayne

(1) In the moon of Ta-Yum, the hottest days of summer, when salmon spawn in the little streams and huckleberries ripen in the high mountains, people from many villages of the Chopunnish Nation gathered in the Oyaip Prairie for the work and festivities of their annual camas harvest.

(2) From far and near The People came....

(3) Should a stranger enter their homeland and ask, "Where are you from?" the reply was always, "We are Nee-mee-poo, The People who live here in this place."

(4) It was a time of Lawtiwa-mah-ton—a time of being friends together—when The People came for this last chance to enjoy being together before the Cold Moons kept them close to their fires. The visiting and trading, the foot racing and horse racing, and the gambling and stick games would be remembered and talked about long after they had forgotten the drudgery of digging and roasting camas, picking berries, or drying meat and fish. Lawtiwa-mah-ton! It was good to be friends together.

(5) As was their custom since wahk-kee-ma, a time far back beyond the memory of man, they set up their camps in the same locations their parents and grandparents had occupied before them. Red Bear's people, from Kamiah, made their camp near the trail that came out of the mountains. Their neighbors in Kamiah Valley, The People from Tee-e-lap-a-lo, had their camp close by. Across the wide meadow, by the great roasting pits, the camps of the Te-wap-poo and Ask-kah-poo were located. The tepees and ish-nash, brush shelters, of other groups nestled in their accustomed areas in and among the pines in such numbers that they encircled the entire meadow land.

(6) Red Bear's people had traveled all summer with neighboring bands, gathering and preparing roots, picking and drying berries, drying and smoking meat and fish for their winter food supply. Now they were at the Oyaip camp. The women worked hard to dig and cure as many bags of roots as they could during the warm, sunny days, for the sharp night air brought warnings that WARM was going and COLD was coming.

(7) Everyone helped in some way. Most of the men fished or hunted for meat. While many of the women dug and roasted camas, other women and older children picked and dried berries.

(8) And the younger children played. They played at hunting. They played with the babies. They played with their horses and puppies. They learned how to live through their play.

(9) This sun, happiness, peace, and quiet blessed the Red Bear camp. All were busy with their daily tasks, until sudden cries came from the children playing by the trail.

(10) —"People coming! People coming! People coming on the trail from the high mountains!" they called as they ran to their elders, who looked sharply at the figures of approaching horsemen.

(11) Were they friends or enemies? Did they bring good news or bad?

(12) "Who can it be? What brings them here?" were the questions in every mind.

(13) "Could they be the four hunters who had gone to Buffalo Country two summers past? Would they have news of the families who had gone long ago to Buffalo Country and never returned?"

(14) It was customary for a hunting party to be gone for more than one season.

(15) —"Looks like hunters," the older men agreed. ... "Maybe our four hunters..."

(16) —"Looks like five people—not four," others observed.

(17) Excitement grew as the riders came close enough to be recognized.

(18) "A-a-a-a-a, they are our four hunters! But who is the fifth person?" they asked.

(19) "Looks like a woman. Who is she?"

(20) The hunters rode up to the welcoming crowd, proud to show off the loads of meat, hides, and other trophies of their hunt. They paraded around the encampment for all to see how strong their Hunting Power had been—what great hunters they, themselves, were.

(21) Red Bear's people rejoiced at their hunters' success. Good hunters brought good to everybody. The meat meant plenty of food and the hides meant soft-tanned robes to give comfort through the Cold Moons. But it was the sight of the frail figure of the woman that aroused their curiosity. Who was she? Where had she come from?

(22) Now they could see! She was the daughter of the family gone so long ago! The girl-child who had left came back now—a grown woman.

(23) "Wat-ku-ese!" the women cried. "Gone-from-Home-then-Come-Back. Wat-ku-ese!" And Wat-ku-ese was her name from that time on.

(24) Gentle arms lifted Wat-ku-ese from her horse. The women brought her food and made a place for her to rest. For many suns they cared for her until she became stronger.

(25) One evening Wat-ku-ese told her story for all to hear.

What name did The People of the Chopunnish Nation use to refer to themselves?

Excerpt from "Winter Wheat" by Mildred Walker

(1) I love Dad's way of talking that makes him seem different from other ranchers. He's lived here twenty-three years, but he still says "back East where I come from." He's the one who gets excited when I do about spring coming or a serial running in the magazine we're both reading, but it's what Mom says that I depend on. When Mom used to say "Don't worry" about my pet chicken or dog or new calf, it always got well. Dad is always talking of going some place, not now, but next year, maybe. Mom seems to think of nothing farther away than today or perhaps yesterday or tomorrow morning.

(2) Mom folded the ironing board and put it inside their bedroom that was just off the kitchen. She carried in the freshly ironed clothes. Dad went back to his paper. When Mom came back she took beans from the cupboard to soak for tomorrow. Dad always said Mom could make all the dishes he'd had back in Vermont as well as though she were a New Englander herself, instead of a Russian. All of a sudden, I realized that tomorrow when those beans would be ready to eat I'd be going away. It gave me a funny feeling.

(3) "I'll be taking the train tomorrow night," I said aloud, more to hear it myself.

(4) "We can drive you into town in the afternoon," Dad said, dropping his paper on the floor.

(5) "There's no need to go to town; she can catch the train at Gotham just as well. We haven't nothing to take us into town for," Mom said.

(6) "Well, we don't have to decide tonight," Dad said, but I knew he wanted to go into Clark City. It wouldn't be so flat as just seeing me go off on the train from Gotham. My going away was hard on both of them; they were so different—and I was part of them both. It made me uncomfortable to think of leaving them.

(7) While I was getting ready for bed in my room that's off the front room, I saw how it would be if I left from town. We'd go in right after dinner and go around to the stores, Dad going one way and Mom and I another. Dad would probably have his hair cut at the barbershop and stop in the bank and meet someone he knew to talk to. Then we'd meet at the big store on the corner and go to the cafeteria for supper. The train stops ten minutes or so at the station in town and there are other people and excitement and you have time to wave from the platform and then again from your window by your seat. We went to the station in Clark City to see the Goodals off when they went back to Iowa.

(8) If I left from Gotham, we'd just drive down in the truck and wait till the train came. It only stops long enough for you to get on and you hardly have time to taste the flavor of going away.

(9) I sat on the bed in my pyjamas with my arms around my knees. I couldn't keep from thinking of that time Dad went back East. I tried to, and then I just sat still and looked straight at it. Sometimes that's better than working so hard to keep from looking at what's in your mind.

(10) Dad went all the way back to Vermont. ... It was in November and it was already dark when the train came through Gotham. Even now, I could feel how cold and dark it was. I held Mom's hand. Dad was so dressed-up he seemed strange.... We stood there without saying anything until Dad told Mom to remember to call Mr. Bardich, our neighbor, if the cow didn't calve tomorrow.

(11) "I'll manage," Mom snapped back.

(12) "I wish you could go, Anna," Dad said to Mom, "and we could take Ellen." ...

(13) "Good-by, Anna Petrovna," he said, looking at Mom. I had never heard him call her by two names before.

(14) "Good-by," Mom said, standing still, without smiling.

(15) Then he was gone and the crossroads were darker than ever. The train light shone on the high window in the top of the grain elevator for a moment and then that too was dark. We got into our old Ford and Mom drove back to the house. My throat ached all the way. The name Dad had called Mom kept saying itself in my ears: "Anna Petrovna, Anna Petrovna." ...

(16) Our house seemed lonely when we came back to it. It seemed to be hiding under the coulee. I went with Mom to put the truck in the barn that was bigger than the house. I think Mom was prouder of our barn than the house, anyway. We walked back to look at the cow that was going to calve. She was just a big light blob in the dark, waiting. I had thought she was exciting this morning, but now she seemed sad, too.

(17) The wind blew when we walked across the open space to the house and I couldn't help shivering with the cold. Inside the house it was warm, but empty.

(18) "Bring your nightgown in here and I heat you some milk," Mom said.

(19) I drank the milk sitting on a stool in front of the stove. It tasted good, but the lonely ache in my throat was still there. I picked up my clothes and hung them neatly behind the stove and put my cup on the sink board. Mom was fixing oatmeal for tomorrow morning.

(20) "Good night, Mom," I said almost timidly, standing beside her. She seemed wrapped around in a kind of strangeness. Then she turned around and drew me to her. The front of her dress was warm from the stove. I felt the comfortable heat through my gown. She laid her hand against my face and it felt rough and hard but firm. I dared ask her something I wanted to know.

(21) "Mom, was that really your name—what Dad called you?"

(22) Her voice sounded surprised. "Why, Yelena, you know that; Anna Petrovna. You know I am born in Russia, in Seletskoe."

(23) "Yes, but I didn't know your other name," I said.

(24) "Anna Petrovna Webb." She pronounced it slowly. "Once I think what a funny name Ben Webb is!" She laughed. Her laugh was warm and low like our kitchen, and comfortable. The house seemed natural and right again....

(25) But now that I am grown, I feel the wall of strangeness between them, more than when I was a child. I wondered how they would get along without me.

According to the narrator, what is one major difference between leaving on the train from Gotham versus Clark City?

Excerpt from "Do Them No Harm!" by Zoa L. Swayne

(1) In the moon of Ta-Yum, the hottest days of summer, when salmon spawn in the little streams and huckleberries ripen in the high mountains, people from many villages of the Chopunnish Nation gathered in the Oyaip Prairie for the work and festivities of their annual camas harvest.

(2) From far and near The People came....

(3) Should a stranger enter their homeland and ask, "Where are you from?" the reply was always, "We are Nee-mee-poo, The People who live here in this place."

(4) It was a time of Lawtiwa-mah-ton—a time of being friends together—when The People came for this last chance to enjoy being together before the Cold Moons kept them close to their fires. The visiting and trading, the foot racing and horse racing, and the gambling and stick games would be remembered and talked about long after they had forgotten the drudgery of digging and roasting camas, picking berries, or drying meat and fish. Lawtiwa-mah-ton! It was good to be friends together.

(5) As was their custom since wahk-kee-ma, a time far back beyond the memory of man, they set up their camps in the same locations their parents and grandparents had occupied before them. Red Bear's people, from Kamiah, made their camp near the trail that came out of the mountains. Their neighbors in Kamiah Valley, The People from Tee-e-lap-a-lo, had their camp close by. Across the wide meadow, by the great roasting pits, the camps of the Te-wap-poo and Ask-kah-poo were located. The tepees and ish-nash, brush shelters, of other groups nestled in their accustomed areas in and among the pines in such numbers that they encircled the entire meadow land.

(6) Red Bear's people had traveled all summer with neighboring bands, gathering and preparing roots, picking and drying berries, drying and smoking meat and fish for their winter food supply. Now they were at the Oyaip camp. The women worked hard to dig and cure as many bags of roots as they could during the warm, sunny days, for the sharp night air brought warnings that WARM was going and COLD was coming.

(7) Everyone helped in some way. Most of the men fished or hunted for meat. While many of the women dug and roasted camas, other women and older children picked and dried berries.

(8) And the younger children played. They played at hunting. They played with the babies. They played with their horses and puppies. They learned how to live through their play.

(9) This sun, happiness, peace, and quiet blessed the Red Bear camp. All were busy with their daily tasks, until sudden cries came from the children playing by the trail.

(10) —"People coming! People coming! People coming on the trail from the high mountains!" they called as they ran to their elders, who looked sharply at the figures of approaching horsemen.

(11) Were they friends or enemies? Did they bring good news or bad?

(12) "Who can it be? What brings them here?" were the questions in every mind.

(13) "Could they be the four hunters who had gone to Buffalo Country two summers past? Would they have news of the families who had gone long ago to Buffalo Country and never returned?"

(14) It was customary for a hunting party to be gone for more than one season.

(15) —"Looks like hunters," the older men agreed. ... "Maybe our four hunters..."

(16) —"Looks like five people—not four," others observed.

(17) Excitement grew as the riders came close enough to be recognized.

(18) "A-a-a-a-a, they are our four hunters! But who is the fifth person?" they asked.

(19) "Looks like a woman. Who is she?"

(20) The hunters rode up to the welcoming crowd, proud to show off the loads of meat, hides, and other trophies of their hunt. They paraded around the encampment for all to see how strong their Hunting Power had been—what great hunters they, themselves, were.

(21) Red Bear's people rejoiced at their hunters' success. Good hunters brought good to everybody. The meat meant plenty of food and the hides meant soft-tanned robes to give comfort through the Cold Moons. But it was the sight of the frail figure of the woman that aroused their curiosity. Who was she? Where had she come from?

(22) Now they could see! She was the daughter of the family gone so long ago! The girl-child who had left came back now—a grown woman.

(23) "Wat-ku-ese!" the women cried. "Gone-from-Home-then-Come-Back. Wat-ku-ese!" And Wat-ku-ese was her name from that time on.

(24) Gentle arms lifted Wat-ku-ese from her horse. The women brought her food and made a place for her to rest. For many suns they cared for her until she became stronger.

(25) One evening Wat-ku-ese told her story for all to hear.

While many of the women were digging and roasting camas, what were most of the men doing?

Excerpt from "Scribe Like an Egyptian" by Hilary Wilson

(1) In ancient Egypt, literacy was the key to success. However, contrary to popular belief, not all Egyptian scribes understood hieroglyphs. Many relied instead on the simpler hieratic script for the multitude of everyday documents generated by the Egyptian bureaucracy.

(2) Hieroglyphs—"the Words of God"—compose a writing system with more than 1,000 distinct characters, the meanings of which were lost for 1,500 years before they were deciphered by Jean-François Champollion in 1822. Including both ideograms (which convey a whole word or idea, either concrete or abstract, in a single sign) and phonograms (representing either an alphabetic sound or a group of consonants), [the writing system] was used in formal inscriptions on tomb and temple walls as well as on elaborate funerary papyri. For everyday purposes, however, scribes used a shorthand version of the hieroglyphic script known as hieratic, which was quicker to write and more economical of space. The two writings existed side by side for at least 2,500 years.

(3) Scraps of ancient hieratic writing, mostly penned by student scribes on limestone flakes called ostraca, suggest that no matter how humble his origins, an educated Egyptian could achieve almost anything. Horemheb (d.1292 B.C.) is a good example. Born of middle-ranking parents, his scribal training led to an army career. From Scribe of Recruits, during the reign of Akhenaten (1353–1336 B.C.), Horemheb rose through the military ranks and, by the rule of Tutankhamun (1332–1323 B.C.), he was commander in chief of the Egyptian forces. As a close adviser of the young Pharaoh, Horemheb was appointed "Deputy of the King throughout the Two Lands," and might have expected to succeed to the throne should the king die childless. He had to wait a few years, but eventually Horemheb achieved the pinnacle of his career by becoming the last king of the 18th Dynasty, making his mark by instituting dramatic reforms to the organisation of the army, the judiciary and administration in general. The lasting success of these changes owed much to his scribal background...

(4) But education was not available to all. Government departments and major temples supported schools, where boys commenced their training at six or seven, sometimes earlier. To these boarding establishments ... family or household servants delivered the students' food and drink rations daily for several years, during which time the student was not contributing to the family's income. Boys from poorer families could only hope to be educated with support from a wealthier relative or patron, or through apprenticeship to an older scribe, perhaps the local clerk or land agent, who would teach them the basics of the scribe's craft. This limited the scope for employment but such "on the job" training allowed apprentices to help out at home while learning....

(5) Scribal education began with the elementary principles of the hieratic script. The lowliest scribes, who trained for just five or six years, probably learned only the rudiments of the hieroglyphic script. Students were set exemplar documents and extracts from popular texts to copy, to practice their hieratic handwriting on basic-format letters, reports and contracts, while absorbing the good advice contained in the texts. Surviving examples of copy-work sometimes include tutors' corrections added in red. Some significant Egyptian literary works survive almost exclusively from student copies.

(6) A schoolboy "dictionary" of hieroglyphs with their hieratic equivalents shows that a knowledge of more than 450 signs was required for everyday writing purposes. Lessons in record-keeping and filing and labelling enabled any half-competent scribe to perform that most essential of all scribal functions: the making and updating of lists. For professions such as those of government official, priest or lawyer, a scribe would train for several more years, increasing his vocabulary to perhaps a thousand or more signs. Those with the best handwriting or drawing skills might follow the craft of creating beautifully illustrated copies of funerary texts, commonly called Books of the Dead. Others could become draughtsmen, artists or architects. Doctors compiled their own collections of medication recipes, treatments and associated incantations, many copied from texts found in the House of Life, the temple library. Lawyers had to be familiar with the corpus of civil and religious laws and precedents found in the official records, which were administered by archivists. Egypt's bureaucratic society depended on the skills of an army of scribes of all ranks from filing clerk to tax assessor. For young Egyptians, "be a scribe" was the best of career advice.

According to the passage, what kind of script did many Egyptian scribes use for everyday documents instead of hieroglyphs?

Excerpt from "Winter Wheat" by Mildred Walker

(1) I love Dad's way of talking that makes him seem different from other ranchers. He's lived here twenty-three years, but he still says "back East where I come from." He's the one who gets excited when I do about spring coming or a serial running in the magazine we're both reading, but it's what Mom says that I depend on. When Mom used to say "Don't worry" about my pet chicken or dog or new calf, it always got well. Dad is always talking of going some place, not now, but next year, maybe. Mom seems to think of nothing farther away than today or perhaps yesterday or tomorrow morning.

(2) Mom folded the ironing board and put it inside their bedroom that was just off the kitchen. She carried in the freshly ironed clothes. Dad went back to his paper. When Mom came back she took beans from the cupboard to soak for tomorrow. Dad always said Mom could make all the dishes he'd had back in Vermont as well as though she were a New Englander herself, instead of a Russian. All of a sudden, I realized that tomorrow when those beans would be ready to eat I'd be going away. It gave me a funny feeling.

(3) "I'll be taking the train tomorrow night," I said aloud, more to hear it myself.

(4) "We can drive you into town in the afternoon," Dad said, dropping his paper on the floor.

(5) "There's no need to go to town; she can catch the train at Gotham just as well. We haven't nothing to take us into town for," Mom said.

(6) "Well, we don't have to decide tonight," Dad said, but I knew he wanted to go into Clark City. It wouldn't be so flat as just seeing me go off on the train from Gotham. My going away was hard on both of them; they were so different—and I was part of them both. It made me uncomfortable to think of leaving them.

(7) While I was getting ready for bed in my room that's off the front room, I saw how it would be if I left from town. We'd go in right after dinner and go around to the stores, Dad going one way and Mom and I another. Dad would probably have his hair cut at the barbershop and stop in the bank and meet someone he knew to talk to. Then we'd meet at the big store on the corner and go to the cafeteria for supper. The train stops ten minutes or so at the station in town and there are other people and excitement and you have time to wave from the platform and then again from your window by your seat. We went to the station in Clark City to see the Goodals off when they went back to Iowa.

(8) If I left from Gotham, we'd just drive down in the truck and wait till the train came. It only stops long enough for you to get on and you hardly have time to taste the flavor of going away.

(9) I sat on the bed in my pyjamas with my arms around my knees. I couldn't keep from thinking of that time Dad went back East. I tried to, and then I just sat still and looked straight at it. Sometimes that's better than working so hard to keep from looking at what's in your mind.

(10) Dad went all the way back to Vermont. ... It was in November and it was already dark when the train came through Gotham. Even now, I could feel how cold and dark it was. I held Mom's hand. Dad was so dressed-up he seemed strange.... We stood there without saying anything until Dad told Mom to remember to call Mr. Bardich, our neighbor, if the cow didn't calve tomorrow.

(11) "I'll manage," Mom snapped back.

(12) "I wish you could go, Anna," Dad said to Mom, "and we could take Ellen." ...

(13) "Good-by, Anna Petrovna," he said, looking at Mom. I had never heard him call her by two names before.

(14) "Good-by," Mom said, standing still, without smiling.

(15) Then he was gone and the crossroads were darker than ever. The train light shone on the high window in the top of the grain elevator for a moment and then that too was dark. We got into our old Ford and Mom drove back to the house. My throat ached all the way. The name Dad had called Mom kept saying itself in my ears: "Anna Petrovna, Anna Petrovna." ...

(16) Our house seemed lonely when we came back to it. It seemed to be hiding under the coulee. I went with Mom to put the truck in the barn that was bigger than the house. I think Mom was prouder of our barn than the house, anyway. We walked back to look at the cow that was going to calve. She was just a big light blob in the dark, waiting. I had thought she was exciting this morning, but now she seemed sad, too.

(17) The wind blew when we walked across the open space to the house and I couldn't help shivering with the cold. Inside the house it was warm, but empty.

(18) "Bring your nightgown in here and I heat you some milk," Mom said.

(19) I drank the milk sitting on a stool in front of the stove. It tasted good, but the lonely ache in my throat was still there. I picked up my clothes and hung them neatly behind the stove and put my cup on the sink board. Mom was fixing oatmeal for tomorrow morning.

(20) "Good night, Mom," I said almost timidly, standing beside her. She seemed wrapped around in a kind of strangeness. Then she turned around and drew me to her. The front of her dress was warm from the stove. I felt the comfortable heat through my gown. She laid her hand against my face and it felt rough and hard but firm. I dared ask her something I wanted to know.

(21) "Mom, was that really your name—what Dad called you?"

(22) Her voice sounded surprised. "Why, Yelena, you know that; Anna Petrovna. You know I am born in Russia, in Seletskoe."

(23) "Yes, but I didn't know your other name," I said.

(24) "Anna Petrovna Webb." She pronounced it slowly. "Once I think what a funny name Ben Webb is!" She laughed. Her laugh was warm and low like our kitchen, and comfortable. The house seemed natural and right again....

(25) But now that I am grown, I feel the wall of strangeness between them, more than when I was a child. I wondered how they would get along without me.

When the narrator imagines leaving from Clark City, what is one of the things she thinks her father would do?

Massachusetts: Lowell National Historical Park

(1) During the first half of the 19th century, Lowell, Massachusetts, quickly transformed itself from a farm town to a bustling industrial city. In time, Lowell became a model of industry, gaining global recognition for its state-of-the-art technology, innovative canal and dam system, mill architecture, boardinghouses, churches, and ethnic neighborhoods. Young Yankee women, immigrant families, and European tourists all flocked to Lowell to find work at one of the many textile mills, or visit the industrious city that was becoming a popular tourist destination. As one Scottish traveler observed during his visit to America, "Niagara and Lowell are the two objects I will longest remember in my American journey, the one the glory of American scenery, the other of American industry." Today, Lowell National Historical Park welcomes visitors to enjoy the sights of Lowell and learn about the history of one of America's most significant industrial cities.

(2) The Boston merchants who founded Lowell in 1821 and named it after Francis Cabot Lowell chose to locate the town along Massachusetts's Merrimack River to take advantage of the kinetic energy offered by the Pawtucket waterfalls. Over six miles of canals powered the waterwheels of Lowell's mills, whose massive five- and six-story brick buildings dominated the city's landscape. ... By the 1850s, 40 textile mills employing over 10,000 workers stretched for about a mile along the river. ...

(3) The city's female workforce was significant in the history of Lowell. From the early to mid-1800s, women left the constricted lifestyle of small rural towns and rural areas for independent industrial city life. Most were young single Yankee girls, who were tired of the limited opportunities offered by their domestic work. Women found that Lowell's mills offered monthly wages for their services and provided them room and board. Although these women gained economic independence in Lowell, the mill boardinghouse keepers constantly supervised their social activities, for which they hardly had any time, considering their daily 12- to 14-hour work schedules. At the end of the day, the factory bell signaled the "mill girls" to return to their boardinghouses. They were expected to adhere to the strict code of conduct respecting curfew and attending church.

(4) Yankee "mill girls" continued to dominate the Lowell workforce until the 1840s, when the city began to find it difficult to compete with the growing industrial development in other New England communities. As profits fell, the mill industry cut wages. These wage cuts, deteriorating working conditions, and long workdays led the "mill girls" to protest and organize strikes. When their demands went unheard, the women left Lowell, and immigrant groups replaced them in the workforce. Despite the low wages and unhealthy work conditions, immigrants were eager to find work.

(5) The immigrants replacing the Yankee "mill girls" during the 1840s were predominantly Irish Catholics, who traveled to America during the Great Potato Famine. Although Lowell received an influx of Irish families during this time, the Irish were a part of the city's history from its birth, and before the "mill girls" arrived, they built Lowell's historic canals, mills, and boardinghouses. Initially, Lowell's Protestant community was slow to welcome Irish immigrants, but the hostility between Yankee Protestants and Irish Catholics eventually disappeared. Irish immigrants dominated the industrial scene until the Civil War, when other immigrant groups began to work in the city mills.

(6) Like the Irish, the French-Canadians, Greeks, Poles, Portuguese, Russian Jews, and Armenians who came to work in Lowell's mills faced long work hours, low wages, and poor living conditions in the city's crowded tenements. By the time Lowell's industry declined, the city had become an ethnic melting pot, where each group claimed its own distinct neighborhood, like the Irish immigrants' "New Dublin" or "Acre," and the French-Canadians' "Little Canada." The city officially began to close down its mills in the 1920s and '30s after Lowell's outdated mills could no longer compete against the state-of-the-art cotton mills in other communities and working conditions continued to decline as Lowell's companies stopped reinvesting in their mills. ... Despite a brief resurgence during World War II, the city shut down its last surviving mill by the mid-1950s.

What contribution did Irish immigrants make to Lowell before the 'mill girls' arrived?

Excerpt from "Winter Wheat" by Mildred Walker

(1) I love Dad's way of talking that makes him seem different from other ranchers. He's lived here twenty-three years, but he still says "back East where I come from." He's the one who gets excited when I do about spring coming or a serial running in the magazine we're both reading, but it's what Mom says that I depend on. When Mom used to say "Don't worry" about my pet chicken or dog or new calf, it always got well. Dad is always talking of going some place, not now, but next year, maybe. Mom seems to think of nothing farther away than today or perhaps yesterday or tomorrow morning.

(2) Mom folded the ironing board and put it inside their bedroom that was just off the kitchen. She carried in the freshly ironed clothes. Dad went back to his paper. When Mom came back she took beans from the cupboard to soak for tomorrow. Dad always said Mom could make all the dishes he'd had back in Vermont as well as though she were a New Englander herself, instead of a Russian. All of a sudden, I realized that tomorrow when those beans would be ready to eat I'd be going away. It gave me a funny feeling.

(3) "I'll be taking the train tomorrow night," I said aloud, more to hear it myself.

(4) "We can drive you into town in the afternoon," Dad said, dropping his paper on the floor.

(5) "There's no need to go to town; she can catch the train at Gotham just as well. We haven't nothing to take us into town for," Mom said.

(6) "Well, we don't have to decide tonight," Dad said, but I knew he wanted to go into Clark City. It wouldn't be so flat as just seeing me go off on the train from Gotham. My going away was hard on both of them; they were so different—and I was part of them both. It made me uncomfortable to think of leaving them.

(7) While I was getting ready for bed in my room that's off the front room, I saw how it would be if I left from town. We'd go in right after dinner and go around to the stores, Dad going one way and Mom and I another. Dad would probably have his hair cut at the barbershop and stop in the bank and meet someone he knew to talk to. Then we'd meet at the big store on the corner and go to the cafeteria for supper. The train stops ten minutes or so at the station in town and there are other people and excitement and you have time to wave from the platform and then again from your window by your seat. We went to the station in Clark City to see the Goodals off when they went back to Iowa.

(8) If I left from Gotham, we'd just drive down in the truck and wait till the train came. It only stops long enough for you to get on and you hardly have time to taste the flavor of going away.

(9) I sat on the bed in my pyjamas with my arms around my knees. I couldn't keep from thinking of that time Dad went back East. I tried to, and then I just sat still and looked straight at it. Sometimes that's better than working so hard to keep from looking at what's in your mind.

(10) Dad went all the way back to Vermont. ... It was in November and it was already dark when the train came through Gotham. Even now, I could feel how cold and dark it was. I held Mom's hand. Dad was so dressed-up he seemed strange.... We stood there without saying anything until Dad told Mom to remember to call Mr. Bardich, our neighbor, if the cow didn't calve tomorrow.

(11) "I'll manage," Mom snapped back.

(12) "I wish you could go, Anna," Dad said to Mom, "and we could take Ellen." ...

(13) "Good-by, Anna Petrovna," he said, looking at Mom. I had never heard him call her by two names before.

(14) "Good-by," Mom said, standing still, without smiling.

(15) Then he was gone and the crossroads were darker than ever. The train light shone on the high window in the top of the grain elevator for a moment and then that too was dark. We got into our old Ford and Mom drove back to the house. My throat ached all the way. The name Dad had called Mom kept saying itself in my ears: "Anna Petrovna, Anna Petrovna." ...

(16) Our house seemed lonely when we came back to it. It seemed to be hiding under the coulee. I went with Mom to put the truck in the barn that was bigger than the house. I think Mom was prouder of our barn than the house, anyway. We walked back to look at the cow that was going to calve. She was just a big light blob in the dark, waiting. I had thought she was exciting this morning, but now she seemed sad, too.

(17) The wind blew when we walked across the open space to the house and I couldn't help shivering with the cold. Inside the house it was warm, but empty.

(18) "Bring your nightgown in here and I heat you some milk," Mom said.

(19) I drank the milk sitting on a stool in front of the stove. It tasted good, but the lonely ache in my throat was still there. I picked up my clothes and hung them neatly behind the stove and put my cup on the sink board. Mom was fixing oatmeal for tomorrow morning.

(20) "Good night, Mom," I said almost timidly, standing beside her. She seemed wrapped around in a kind of strangeness. Then she turned around and drew me to her. The front of her dress was warm from the stove. I felt the comfortable heat through my gown. She laid her hand against my face and it felt rough and hard but firm. I dared ask her something I wanted to know.

(21) "Mom, was that really your name—what Dad called you?"

(22) Her voice sounded surprised. "Why, Yelena, you know that; Anna Petrovna. You know I am born in Russia, in Seletskoe."

(23) "Yes, but I didn't know your other name," I said.

(24) "Anna Petrovna Webb." She pronounced it slowly. "Once I think what a funny name Ben Webb is!" She laughed. Her laugh was warm and low like our kitchen, and comfortable. The house seemed natural and right again....

(25) But now that I am grown, I feel the wall of strangeness between them, more than when I was a child. I wondered how they would get along without me.

On the night the father left for Vermont, what name did he call the mother that the narrator had never heard him use before?

Excerpt from "Scribe Like an Egyptian" by Hilary Wilson

(1) In ancient Egypt, literacy was the key to success. However, contrary to popular belief, not all Egyptian scribes understood hieroglyphs. Many relied instead on the simpler hieratic script for the multitude of everyday documents generated by the Egyptian bureaucracy.

(2) Hieroglyphs—"the Words of God"—compose a writing system with more than 1,000 distinct characters, the meanings of which were lost for 1,500 years before they were deciphered by Jean-François Champollion in 1822. Including both ideograms (which convey a whole word or idea, either concrete or abstract, in a single sign) and phonograms (representing either an alphabetic sound or a group of consonants), [the writing system] was used in formal inscriptions on tomb and temple walls as well as on elaborate funerary papyri. For everyday purposes, however, scribes used a shorthand version of the hieroglyphic script known as hieratic, which was quicker to write and more economical of space. The two writings existed side by side for at least 2,500 years.

(3) Scraps of ancient hieratic writing, mostly penned by student scribes on limestone flakes called ostraca, suggest that no matter how humble his origins, an educated Egyptian could achieve almost anything. Horemheb (d.1292 B.C.) is a good example. Born of middle-ranking parents, his scribal training led to an army career. From Scribe of Recruits, during the reign of Akhenaten (1353–1336 B.C.), Horemheb rose through the military ranks and, by the rule of Tutankhamun (1332–1323 B.C.), he was commander in chief of the Egyptian forces. As a close adviser of the young Pharaoh, Horemheb was appointed "Deputy of the King throughout the Two Lands," and might have expected to succeed to the throne should the king die childless. He had to wait a few years, but eventually Horemheb achieved the pinnacle of his career by becoming the last king of the 18th Dynasty, making his mark by instituting dramatic reforms to the organisation of the army, the judiciary and administration in general. The lasting success of these changes owed much to his scribal background...

(4) But education was not available to all. Government departments and major temples supported schools, where boys commenced their training at six or seven, sometimes earlier. To these boarding establishments ... family or household servants delivered the students' food and drink rations daily for several years, during which time the student was not contributing to the family's income. Boys from poorer families could only hope to be educated with support from a wealthier relative or patron, or through apprenticeship to an older scribe, perhaps the local clerk or land agent, who would teach them the basics of the scribe's craft. This limited the scope for employment but such "on the job" training allowed apprentices to help out at home while learning....

(5) Scribal education began with the elementary principles of the hieratic script. The lowliest scribes, who trained for just five or six years, probably learned only the rudiments of the hieroglyphic script. Students were set exemplar documents and extracts from popular texts to copy, to practice their hieratic handwriting on basic-format letters, reports and contracts, while absorbing the good advice contained in the texts. Surviving examples of copy-work sometimes include tutors' corrections added in red. Some significant Egyptian literary works survive almost exclusively from student copies.

(6) A schoolboy "dictionary" of hieroglyphs with their hieratic equivalents shows that a knowledge of more than 450 signs was required for everyday writing purposes. Lessons in record-keeping and filing and labelling enabled any half-competent scribe to perform that most essential of all scribal functions: the making and updating of lists. For professions such as those of government official, priest or lawyer, a scribe would train for several more years, increasing his vocabulary to perhaps a thousand or more signs. Those with the best handwriting or drawing skills might follow the craft of creating beautifully illustrated copies of funerary texts, commonly called Books of the Dead. Others could become draughtsmen, artists or architects. Doctors compiled their own collections of medication recipes, treatments and associated incantations, many copied from texts found in the House of Life, the temple library. Lawyers had to be familiar with the corpus of civil and religious laws and precedents found in the official records, which were administered by archivists. Egypt's bureaucratic society depended on the skills of an army of scribes of all ranks from filing clerk to tax assessor. For young Egyptians, "be a scribe" was the best of career advice.

The passage identifies Jean-François Champollion as the person who

Massachusetts: Lowell National Historical Park

(1) During the first half of the 19th century, Lowell, Massachusetts, quickly transformed itself from a farm town to a bustling industrial city. In time, Lowell became a model of industry, gaining global recognition for its state-of-the-art technology, innovative canal and dam system, mill architecture, boardinghouses, churches, and ethnic neighborhoods. Young Yankee women, immigrant families, and European tourists all flocked to Lowell to find work at one of the many textile mills, or visit the industrious city that was becoming a popular tourist destination. As one Scottish traveler observed during his visit to America, "Niagara and Lowell are the two objects I will longest remember in my American journey, the one the glory of American scenery, the other of American industry." Today, Lowell National Historical Park welcomes visitors to enjoy the sights of Lowell and learn about the history of one of America's most significant industrial cities.

(2) The Boston merchants who founded Lowell in 1821 and named it after Francis Cabot Lowell chose to locate the town along Massachusetts's Merrimack River to take advantage of the kinetic energy offered by the Pawtucket waterfalls. Over six miles of canals powered the waterwheels of Lowell's mills, whose massive five- and six-story brick buildings dominated the city's landscape. ... By the 1850s, 40 textile mills employing over 10,000 workers stretched for about a mile along the river. ...

(3) The city's female workforce was significant in the history of Lowell. From the early to mid-1800s, women left the constricted lifestyle of small rural towns and rural areas for independent industrial city life. Most were young single Yankee girls, who were tired of the limited opportunities offered by their domestic work. Women found that Lowell's mills offered monthly wages for their services and provided them room and board. Although these women gained economic independence in Lowell, the mill boardinghouse keepers constantly supervised their social activities, for which they hardly had any time, considering their daily 12- to 14-hour work schedules. At the end of the day, the factory bell signaled the "mill girls" to return to their boardinghouses. They were expected to adhere to the strict code of conduct respecting curfew and attending church.

(4) Yankee "mill girls" continued to dominate the Lowell workforce until the 1840s, when the city began to find it difficult to compete with the growing industrial development in other New England communities. As profits fell, the mill industry cut wages. These wage cuts, deteriorating working conditions, and long workdays led the "mill girls" to protest and organize strikes. When their demands went unheard, the women left Lowell, and immigrant groups replaced them in the workforce. Despite the low wages and unhealthy work conditions, immigrants were eager to find work.

(5) The immigrants replacing the Yankee "mill girls" during the 1840s were predominantly Irish Catholics, who traveled to America during the Great Potato Famine. Although Lowell received an influx of Irish families during this time, the Irish were a part of the city's history from its birth, and before the "mill girls" arrived, they built Lowell's historic canals, mills, and boardinghouses. Initially, Lowell's Protestant community was slow to welcome Irish immigrants, but the hostility between Yankee Protestants and Irish Catholics eventually disappeared. Irish immigrants dominated the industrial scene until the Civil War, when other immigrant groups began to work in the city mills.

(6) Like the Irish, the French-Canadians, Greeks, Poles, Portuguese, Russian Jews, and Armenians who came to work in Lowell's mills faced long work hours, low wages, and poor living conditions in the city's crowded tenements. By the time Lowell's industry declined, the city had become an ethnic melting pot, where each group claimed its own distinct neighborhood, like the Irish immigrants' "New Dublin" or "Acre," and the French-Canadians' "Little Canada." The city officially began to close down its mills in the 1920s and '30s after Lowell's outdated mills could no longer compete against the state-of-the-art cotton mills in other communities and working conditions continued to decline as Lowell's companies stopped reinvesting in their mills. ... Despite a brief resurgence during World War II, the city shut down its last surviving mill by the mid-1950s.

The founders of Lowell chose to locate the town along the Merrimack River in order to

Excerpt from "Scribe Like an Egyptian" by Hilary Wilson

(1) In ancient Egypt, literacy was the key to success. However, contrary to popular belief, not all Egyptian scribes understood hieroglyphs. Many relied instead on the simpler hieratic script for the multitude of everyday documents generated by the Egyptian bureaucracy.

(2) Hieroglyphs—"the Words of God"—compose a writing system with more than 1,000 distinct characters, the meanings of which were lost for 1,500 years before they were deciphered by Jean-François Champollion in 1822. Including both ideograms (which convey a whole word or idea, either concrete or abstract, in a single sign) and phonograms (representing either an alphabetic sound or a group of consonants), [the writing system] was used in formal inscriptions on tomb and temple walls as well as on elaborate funerary papyri. For everyday purposes, however, scribes used a shorthand version of the hieroglyphic script known as hieratic, which was quicker to write and more economical of space. The two writings existed side by side for at least 2,500 years.

(3) Scraps of ancient hieratic writing, mostly penned by student scribes on limestone flakes called ostraca, suggest that no matter how humble his origins, an educated Egyptian could achieve almost anything. Horemheb (d.1292 B.C.) is a good example. Born of middle-ranking parents, his scribal training led to an army career. From Scribe of Recruits, during the reign of Akhenaten (1353–1336 B.C.), Horemheb rose through the military ranks and, by the rule of Tutankhamun (1332–1323 B.C.), he was commander in chief of the Egyptian forces. As a close adviser of the young Pharaoh, Horemheb was appointed "Deputy of the King throughout the Two Lands," and might have expected to succeed to the throne should the king die childless. He had to wait a few years, but eventually Horemheb achieved the pinnacle of his career by becoming the last king of the 18th Dynasty, making his mark by instituting dramatic reforms to the organisation of the army, the judiciary and administration in general. The lasting success of these changes owed much to his scribal background...

(4) But education was not available to all. Government departments and major temples supported schools, where boys commenced their training at six or seven, sometimes earlier. To these boarding establishments ... family or household servants delivered the students' food and drink rations daily for several years, during which time the student was not contributing to the family's income. Boys from poorer families could only hope to be educated with support from a wealthier relative or patron, or through apprenticeship to an older scribe, perhaps the local clerk or land agent, who would teach them the basics of the scribe's craft. This limited the scope for employment but such "on the job" training allowed apprentices to help out at home while learning....

(5) Scribal education began with the elementary principles of the hieratic script. The lowliest scribes, who trained for just five or six years, probably learned only the rudiments of the hieroglyphic script. Students were set exemplar documents and extracts from popular texts to copy, to practice their hieratic handwriting on basic-format letters, reports and contracts, while absorbing the good advice contained in the texts. Surviving examples of copy-work sometimes include tutors' corrections added in red. Some significant Egyptian literary works survive almost exclusively from student copies.

(6) A schoolboy "dictionary" of hieroglyphs with their hieratic equivalents shows that a knowledge of more than 450 signs was required for everyday writing purposes. Lessons in record-keeping and filing and labelling enabled any half-competent scribe to perform that most essential of all scribal functions: the making and updating of lists. For professions such as those of government official, priest or lawyer, a scribe would train for several more years, increasing his vocabulary to perhaps a thousand or more signs. Those with the best handwriting or drawing skills might follow the craft of creating beautifully illustrated copies of funerary texts, commonly called Books of the Dead. Others could become draughtsmen, artists or architects. Doctors compiled their own collections of medication recipes, treatments and associated incantations, many copied from texts found in the House of Life, the temple library. Lawyers had to be familiar with the corpus of civil and religious laws and precedents found in the official records, which were administered by archivists. Egypt's bureaucratic society depended on the skills of an army of scribes of all ranks from filing clerk to tax assessor. For young Egyptians, "be a scribe" was the best of career advice.

The passage states that a scribe training to become a lawyer would need to be familiar with

Excerpt from "Winter Wheat" by Mildred Walker

(1) I love Dad's way of talking that makes him seem different from other ranchers. He's lived here twenty-three years, but he still says "back East where I come from." He's the one who gets excited when I do about spring coming or a serial running in the magazine we're both reading, but it's what Mom says that I depend on. When Mom used to say "Don't worry" about my pet chicken or dog or new calf, it always got well. Dad is always talking of going some place, not now, but next year, maybe. Mom seems to think of nothing farther away than today or perhaps yesterday or tomorrow morning.

(2) Mom folded the ironing board and put it inside their bedroom that was just off the kitchen. She carried in the freshly ironed clothes. Dad went back to his paper. When Mom came back she took beans from the cupboard to soak for tomorrow. Dad always said Mom could make all the dishes he'd had back in Vermont as well as though she were a New Englander herself, instead of a Russian. All of a sudden, I realized that tomorrow when those beans would be ready to eat I'd be going away. It gave me a funny feeling.

(3) "I'll be taking the train tomorrow night," I said aloud, more to hear it myself.

(4) "We can drive you into town in the afternoon," Dad said, dropping his paper on the floor.

(5) "There's no need to go to town; she can catch the train at Gotham just as well. We haven't nothing to take us into town for," Mom said.

(6) "Well, we don't have to decide tonight," Dad said, but I knew he wanted to go into Clark City. It wouldn't be so flat as just seeing me go off on the train from Gotham. My going away was hard on both of them; they were so different—and I was part of them both. It made me uncomfortable to think of leaving them.

(7) While I was getting ready for bed in my room that's off the front room, I saw how it would be if I left from town. We'd go in right after dinner and go around to the stores, Dad going one way and Mom and I another. Dad would probably have his hair cut at the barbershop and stop in the bank and meet someone he knew to talk to. Then we'd meet at the big store on the corner and go to the cafeteria for supper. The train stops ten minutes or so at the station in town and there are other people and excitement and you have time to wave from the platform and then again from your window by your seat. We went to the station in Clark City to see the Goodals off when they went back to Iowa.

(8) If I left from Gotham, we'd just drive down in the truck and wait till the train came. It only stops long enough for you to get on and you hardly have time to taste the flavor of going away.

(9) I sat on the bed in my pyjamas with my arms around my knees. I couldn't keep from thinking of that time Dad went back East. I tried to, and then I just sat still and looked straight at it. Sometimes that's better than working so hard to keep from looking at what's in your mind.

(10) Dad went all the way back to Vermont. ... It was in November and it was already dark when the train came through Gotham. Even now, I could feel how cold and dark it was. I held Mom's hand. Dad was so dressed-up he seemed strange.... We stood there without saying anything until Dad told Mom to remember to call Mr. Bardich, our neighbor, if the cow didn't calve tomorrow.

(11) "I'll manage," Mom snapped back.

(12) "I wish you could go, Anna," Dad said to Mom, "and we could take Ellen." ...

(13) "Good-by, Anna Petrovna," he said, looking at Mom. I had never heard him call her by two names before.

(14) "Good-by," Mom said, standing still, without smiling.

(15) Then he was gone and the crossroads were darker than ever. The train light shone on the high window in the top of the grain elevator for a moment and then that too was dark. We got into our old Ford and Mom drove back to the house. My throat ached all the way. The name Dad had called Mom kept saying itself in my ears: "Anna Petrovna, Anna Petrovna." ...

(16) Our house seemed lonely when we came back to it. It seemed to be hiding under the coulee. I went with Mom to put the truck in the barn that was bigger than the house. I think Mom was prouder of our barn than the house, anyway. We walked back to look at the cow that was going to calve. She was just a big light blob in the dark, waiting. I had thought she was exciting this morning, but now she seemed sad, too.

(17) The wind blew when we walked across the open space to the house and I couldn't help shivering with the cold. Inside the house it was warm, but empty.

(18) "Bring your nightgown in here and I heat you some milk," Mom said.

(19) I drank the milk sitting on a stool in front of the stove. It tasted good, but the lonely ache in my throat was still there. I picked up my clothes and hung them neatly behind the stove and put my cup on the sink board. Mom was fixing oatmeal for tomorrow morning.

(20) "Good night, Mom," I said almost timidly, standing beside her. She seemed wrapped around in a kind of strangeness. Then she turned around and drew me to her. The front of her dress was warm from the stove. I felt the comfortable heat through my gown. She laid her hand against my face and it felt rough and hard but firm. I dared ask her something I wanted to know.

(21) "Mom, was that really your name—what Dad called you?"

(22) Her voice sounded surprised. "Why, Yelena, you know that; Anna Petrovna. You know I am born in Russia, in Seletskoe."

(23) "Yes, but I didn't know your other name," I said.

(24) "Anna Petrovna Webb." She pronounced it slowly. "Once I think what a funny name Ben Webb is!" She laughed. Her laugh was warm and low like our kitchen, and comfortable. The house seemed natural and right again....

(25) But now that I am grown, I feel the wall of strangeness between them, more than when I was a child. I wondered how they would get along without me.

The narrator mentions that her mother was prouder of which part of their property than the house itself?

Excerpt from "Scribe Like an Egyptian" by Hilary Wilson

(1) In ancient Egypt, literacy was the key to success. However, contrary to popular belief, not all Egyptian scribes understood hieroglyphs. Many relied instead on the simpler hieratic script for the multitude of everyday documents generated by the Egyptian bureaucracy.

(2) Hieroglyphs—"the Words of God"—compose a writing system with more than 1,000 distinct characters, the meanings of which were lost for 1,500 years before they were deciphered by Jean-François Champollion in 1822. Including both ideograms (which convey a whole word or idea, either concrete or abstract, in a single sign) and phonograms (representing either an alphabetic sound or a group of consonants), [the writing system] was used in formal inscriptions on tomb and temple walls as well as on elaborate funerary papyri. For everyday purposes, however, scribes used a shorthand version of the hieroglyphic script known as hieratic, which was quicker to write and more economical of space. The two writings existed side by side for at least 2,500 years.

(3) Scraps of ancient hieratic writing, mostly penned by student scribes on limestone flakes called ostraca, suggest that no matter how humble his origins, an educated Egyptian could achieve almost anything. Horemheb (d.1292 B.C.) is a good example. Born of middle-ranking parents, his scribal training led to an army career. From Scribe of Recruits, during the reign of Akhenaten (1353–1336 B.C.), Horemheb rose through the military ranks and, by the rule of Tutankhamun (1332–1323 B.C.), he was commander in chief of the Egyptian forces. As a close adviser of the young Pharaoh, Horemheb was appointed "Deputy of the King throughout the Two Lands," and might have expected to succeed to the throne should the king die childless. He had to wait a few years, but eventually Horemheb achieved the pinnacle of his career by becoming the last king of the 18th Dynasty, making his mark by instituting dramatic reforms to the organisation of the army, the judiciary and administration in general. The lasting success of these changes owed much to his scribal background...

(4) But education was not available to all. Government departments and major temples supported schools, where boys commenced their training at six or seven, sometimes earlier. To these boarding establishments ... family or household servants delivered the students' food and drink rations daily for several years, during which time the student was not contributing to the family's income. Boys from poorer families could only hope to be educated with support from a wealthier relative or patron, or through apprenticeship to an older scribe, perhaps the local clerk or land agent, who would teach them the basics of the scribe's craft. This limited the scope for employment but such "on the job" training allowed apprentices to help out at home while learning....

(5) Scribal education began with the elementary principles of the hieratic script. The lowliest scribes, who trained for just five or six years, probably learned only the rudiments of the hieroglyphic script. Students were set exemplar documents and extracts from popular texts to copy, to practice their hieratic handwriting on basic-format letters, reports and contracts, while absorbing the good advice contained in the texts. Surviving examples of copy-work sometimes include tutors' corrections added in red. Some significant Egyptian literary works survive almost exclusively from student copies.

(6) A schoolboy "dictionary" of hieroglyphs with their hieratic equivalents shows that a knowledge of more than 450 signs was required for everyday writing purposes. Lessons in record-keeping and filing and labelling enabled any half-competent scribe to perform that most essential of all scribal functions: the making and updating of lists. For professions such as those of government official, priest or lawyer, a scribe would train for several more years, increasing his vocabulary to perhaps a thousand or more signs. Those with the best handwriting or drawing skills might follow the craft of creating beautifully illustrated copies of funerary texts, commonly called Books of the Dead. Others could become draughtsmen, artists or architects. Doctors compiled their own collections of medication recipes, treatments and associated incantations, many copied from texts found in the House of Life, the temple library. Lawyers had to be familiar with the corpus of civil and religious laws and precedents found in the official records, which were administered by archivists. Egypt's bureaucratic society depended on the skills of an army of scribes of all ranks from filing clerk to tax assessor. For young Egyptians, "be a scribe" was the best of career advice.

How did tutors indicate corrections on students' copy-work?