Posted by alexa73301 7/11/2012 in English

i am looking for someone to write 1......

Due 07/15/2012

i am looking for someone to write 11th grade english papers. they are easy. they give all the directions.

here they are...

1))))) Portfolio Assignment 3.2
Poem Summary and Character Declaration
As you know, good readers make textual connections. These textual connections are text-to-text, text-to-self, and text-to-world. We’ll be reviewing each of these textual connections throughout the course. For this assignment, you’ll be making a text-to-text connection.

Text-to-text connections are more than superficially comparing characters from one book to another. I often hear students try to pawn off a text-to-text connection such as, “A character in Book A answered the telephone, and so did the character in Book B. That’s a connection.” Well . . . not quite. Let’s try to go a little deeper.

One way to make text-to-text connections is when you have a primary text like The Crucible, then after reading another text, you evaluate the primary text in a different way. For this assignment, you will be given a poem and then asked to apply and compare the primary text, which, in your case, is The Crucible. But first, read and understand the poem below.

Disillusionment of Ten O’clock1
The houses are haunted
by white night-gowns
none are green,
or purple with green rings,
or yellow with blue rings.
None of them are strange,
with socks of lace
and beaded ceintures.
People are not going
to dream of baboons and periwinkles.
Only, here and there, an old sailor,
drunk and asleep in his boots,
catches Tigers,
in red weather.
Wallace Stevens
Right away, one of the first questions students ask me when reading this poem is, “What’s a ‘ceinture’?” A ceinture is a beaded belt. When reading poems, imagine the action. We have two areas of action in this poem: the houses haunted by people in their nightgowns getting ready for bed and the drunken sailor probably down at the docks. Once you have the center of action, you can begin to visualize the meaning of the poem.

First, let’s discuss the nightgown people. What are these people like? First of all, they’re going to bed at ten o’clock in plain, white night gowns. What image strikes you with the verb “haunted”? Are these people drifting through their own homes? Are they full of life? Why so much description of what their nightgowns are not?

Second, the sailor who falls asleep in his boots, what is he like? Is he full of life, or is he drifting through his life in plain night clothes?

Third, why is the bedtime, ten o’clock, such a disillusionment? The speaker of the poem (not the same as the poet) is making an observation about how to live life. What do you think it is?

Part 1: Poem Summary
On your own piece of paper, summarize what you think the meaning of this poem is. Also, I want you to include who you think the speaker might be, what the speaker’s tone or general attitude is, and what you think the speaker’s observation about life is. This is the first part of this assignment. This summary needs to be approximately a half-page in length.

Part 2: Character Declaration
Depending on how you complete the first part of this assignment, you are going to create a character declaration using this poem. Choose a character from The Crucible and, using lines from the poem, write a speech that is three-fourths to one-page in length as if you are the character speaking to a group of people of your choice. You can use the lines in consecutive order, split them up, or use a few here or there, but all the lines must be used. Both the poem summary and speech will be turned in with portfolio 1.

Example Character Declaration
An example of a character declaration may help you get the text–to–text connections flowing. I have written a character declaration using the same poem, “Disillusionment of Ten O’clock“ and the character Boo Radley from the novel, To Kill a Mockingbird. This is just an example to help you create your character declaration using a character from The Crucible.

Boo Radley Speaks to Maycomb
I am your phantom who watches your streets, a figment of your own creation. But really it’s not me who does the spooking, the houses of Maycomb are haunted by white night-gowns. You have made me disappear into a world of your own creation. A world of sameness or a world of malevolence. And maybe it is better that way. Here I sit at the window, in my home, watching Maycomb’s world go by. Each day is much like the next. There is no difference; I can never remember if it is Monday or Thursday. There is only one difference to Maycomb’s ways, in the shape of a boy and girl, who create worlds of their own… worlds of excitement and pretend. These worlds–none of them are strange, just full of imagination. I can picture them with socks of lace and beaded ceintures, playing in one of their games. These kids, this boy and this girl, they have the spirit of difference. They embrace it and they have the courage to walk out their door each morning and challenge the world.

You see, none of you people are green, or purple with green rings, or yellow with blue rings. And it is sad, your insistence on conforming, on staying the same. Why do I stay inside my house? Why do I never go outside? Why should I? The world out there is either black or white – or Black and White, and the people are not going to dream of wild things, exciting things, things like baboons and periwinkles. Inside my house, I can be anyone except me. Only, here and there, I am reminded I’m called Boo Radley. I am Maycomb’s ghost. But who do I want to be? An old sailor, drunk and asleep in his boots, who catches Tigers, in red weather. And maybe I can be, in my Maycomb dreams.

This kind of text-to-text application will help you bridge literature together in a way that all readers should. Textual connections are more than shallow observations; they are tools to create an avenue for characters and literature to come alive. It is the first step to making text-to-self connections, which we will cover in another lesson.

Please format and submit your assignment according to the instructions in the syllabus and format them in the following manner:

In the top left-hand side of the page please include:
the portfolio submission number
the name of the assignment and lesson number it came from
your name
date
Be sure to save your assignment as a .PDF file. Please keep copies of all assignments. Independent Study is not responsible for lost assignments.




2)))))))))Select a novel written by an American author and begin to prepare a research book report.

Portfolio 4.1: Book Report
Along with writing a journal in this lesson, you will also complete a research book report that will be turned in with your journals in portfolio 3. You will select a novel written by an American author. There is a suggested reading list in Appendix G, but you are not required to select a book from that list. However, the author must be considered an American author. Once you have chosen and read the book, you will begin to write your book report. Keep the following guidelines in mind as you choose your book and start reading. You will want to write the first draft of your report before lesson 10 where you will be reminded of the requirements for the book report to submit in portfolio 3.

The report itself will have four separate parts, and each part will be labeled. The four parts are as follows:

Part 1: A summary of the novel, including the main characters, setting, plot, and major conflicts (1 page)
Part 2: A brief biography of the author (1 page)
Part 3: An explanation of how the author and his or her novel have impacted American culture (1 page)
Part 4: A discussion of the question: Can this novel be considered a timeless American classic? Why or why not? (1 page)
Let’s look at each of the four parts individually.

Part 1: A summary of the novel, including the main characters, setting, plot, and major conflicts.
A novel summary must include an explanation of who the main characters are in the novel, what the setting is (remember that setting includes time and place), what the major conflicts are in the book, and a description of the plot. Of course, you don’t have to explain every specific detail of the book, but you do need to discuss the main events. This part needs to be one page minimum.

Part 2: A brief biography of the author.
The biography should be brief. While you don’t need to go into as much detail as you would if you were writing a research essay on the author, you do need to cover some basic information, such as life events (birth, death, marriages, schooling), interesting facts, the author’s writing career, and any information that provides insights about the author as a person. You will need to properly cite all the information you use from sources of information on the author found on the Internet, in books, magazines, or other resources and include a works cited page. For more information on MLA citation, see Appendix F.

Remember that plagiarism is using seven or more words from a source without citing where the information came from. This part of the assignment should be a one page minimum.

Part 3: An explanation of how the author and his or her novel have impacted American culture.
This part will require you to do a couple of things. First, you have to determine for yourself what American culture consists of. Then, you have to decide how the author has impacted it, if at all. You might want to consider thinking about what was happening in America during your author’s writing career. For example, if a novel came out in the nineteenth century, then the novel might have had more of a cultural impact than if it had come out in the twenty-first century. Again, remember the page minimum.

Part 4: A discussion of the question: Can this novel be considered a timeless American classic? Why or why not?
First, in order to answer this question, you will first need to define what a timeless American classic is. Then, based on your definition, you will need to determine if your novel fits your personal criteria.

Putting Your Book Report Together
This is what you will be assessed on for this part of your book report.

This essay should be typed using Times New Roman font, size 12, double spaced, and on regular 8.5 x 11 inch paper.
Your book report needs to be one .PDF file.
You need to have a title page that includes the title of the book, the author’s name, and your name.
The four parts of your essay must be labeled.
Your rubric needs to be included at the end of your book report. You will find the rubric in the portfolio 3 instruction page.





3))))))))Comprehension Questions
Answer each of the following questions in complete sentences. Keep in mind that some questions may have two parts to answer. You must include an answer to each question. This assignment must be typed and will be turned in with portfolio 1.

Who is the figure that Goodman Brown meets in the forest? How is he characterized?
How does Goodman Brown view his actions in relation to his family history? How does his companion respond to Brown’s claims about his family?
How much influence does Goodman Brown’s companion claim to have?
After his encounter in the forest with Goody Cloyse, Goodman Brown tries to resist the devil’s temptation by raising what issue?
At what precise moment does Goodman Brown lose his faith?
How does Goodman Brown react to his wife and others upon his return to Salem? Why? Is he justified in acting this way?
Do you think what Goodman Brown experiences is reality or a dream? Why?
Portfolio 4.3: Response Essay
Let’s review three possible themes of “Young Goodman Brown.”

A strict moral code and overemphasis on the sinfulness of humankind can foster undue suspicion and distrust.
Evil can infect people who seem upright.
One man’s virtue is another man’s sin, while one man’s sin is another man’s virtue.
You will need to choose one of these three themes and write a response that is three-fourths to a page long about how “Young Goodman Brown” fits your chosen theme. Use the discussion material on symbolism and any more symbols you find to back up your answer. This essay must be typed, double-spaced, and turned in with portfolio 1.




4))))))))Portfolio Assignment 5.2: Transcendental Text–Write
You will be completing a text–write. First, you will read Ralph Waldo Emerson’s essay, “Self-Reliance,” located on the left–hand side of the chart, for comprehension. Once you have done so, read the essay a second time and begin to make notes on the right–hand side of the chart. Perhaps you have questions, or you have text–to–self connections. Maybe you have questions about what you are reading—note all this down on the right side of the chart. You have plenty of room, so make your notes parallel with the text you are notating.


“Self–Reliance”2
by Ralph Waldo Emerson
To believe your own thought, to believe that what is true for you in your private heart is true for all men,—that is genius. Speak your latent conviction, and it shall be the universal sense; for the inmost in due time becomes the outmost—and our first thought is rendered back to us by the trumpets of the Last Judgment. Yet he dismisses without notice his thought, because it is his. In every work of genius we recognize our own rejected thoughts; they come back to us with a certain alienated majesty. Great works of art have no more affecting lesson for us than this. They teach us to abide by our spontaneous impression with good-humored inflexibility than most when the whole cry of voices is on the other side. Else tomorrow a stranger will say with masterly good sense precisely what we have thought and felt all the time, and we shall be forced to take with shame our own opinion from another. There is a time in every man’s education when he arrives at the conviction that envy is ignorance; that imitation is suicide; that he must take himself for better for worse as his portion; that though the wide universe is full of good, no kernel of nourishing corn can come to him but through his toil bestowed on that plot of ground which is given to him to till. The power which resides in him is new in nature, and none but he knows what that is which he can do, nor does he know until he has tried. This sculpture in the memory is not without pre- established harmony. We but half express ourselves, and are shamed of that divine idea which each of us represents. It may be safely trusted as proportionate and of good issues, so it be faithfully imparted, but God will not have his work made manifest by cowards.
Your Notes:
Trust thyself: every heart vibrates to that iron string. Accept the place the divine providence has found for you, the society of your contemporaries, the connection of events. Great men have always done so, and confided themselves childlike to the genius of their age, betraying their perception that the absolutely trustworthy was seated at their heart, working through their hands, predominating in all their being. And we are now men, and must accept
in the highest mind the same transcendent destiny; and not minors and invalids in a protected corner, not cowards fleeing before a revolution, but guides, redeemers, and benefactors, obeying the Almighty effort and advancing on Chaos and the Dark . . .
Virtues are, in the popular estimate, rather the exception than the rule. There is the man and his virtues. Men do what is called a good action, as some piece of courage or charity, much as they would pay a fine in expiation of daily non-appearance on parade. Their works are done as an apology or extenuation of their living in the world. Their virtues are penances. I do not wish to expiate, but to live. My life is for itself and not for a spectacle. I much prefer that it should be of a lower strain, so it be genuine and equal, than that it should be glittering and unsteady. I wish it to be sound and sweet . . .
The other terror that scares us from self-trust is our consistency; a reverence for our past acts or word because the eyes of others have no other data for computing our orbit than our past acts, and we are loath to disappoint them . . .

A foolish consistency is the hobgoblin of little minds, adored by little statesmen and philosophers and divines. With consistency a great soul has simply nothing to do. He may as well concern himself with his shadow on the wall. Speak what you think now in hard words and to-morrow speak what to-morrow thinks in hard words again, though it contradicts every thing you said to-day.—“Ah, so you shall be sure to be misunderstood.”— Is it so bad then to be misunderstood? Pythagoras was misunderstood, and Socrates, and Jesus, and Luther, and Copernicus, and Galileo, and Newton, and every pure and wise spirit that ever took flesh. To be great is to be misunderstood . . .




Ralph Waldo Emerson
As previously mentioned, Ralph Waldo Emerson (1803–1882) was integral to the American transcendental movement. He faced many difficult trials in his life such as losing his father at a young age, as well as his wife and children later in life. After his schooling, he became a school teacher but quit because he said he was hopeless in the classroom. After teaching, he became a Unitarian minister. It was at this time that he began to question the doctrine that he was preaching over the pulpit. He eventually left the ministry and toured Europe for a year. It was during this time that he met other authors who influenced him and his transcendental thought. You will be reading sections of his essay, “Self-Reliance,” which illustrates many trademarks of transcendentalism.

5))))))))Portfolio Assignment 5.3 Transcendental Quick–Write
When I was a little girl, I would go on nature walks with my father on a preserve that was near where I grew up. As a child I felt like we would walk forever, looking at plants and flowers and all kinds of wildlife. Now that I am older, I can remember the power lines, and I know that the freeway was nearby—it wasn’t exactly a pure nature preserve. It is special to me, though, because I spent time with my parents there, and later, I spent time there with my husband and son.

For your assignment, I want you to think of a place in nature that you have visited or that is important to you. It might be a place you have vacationed, a neighborhood park, a pond, or even your own backyard. I also want you to identify five different points of interest from that favorite place that are important to you personally. For example, if I were writing about the nature preserve I visited as a little girl, my five places would be: the flower gardens, the bridge over the duck pond, the fork in the hiking path, the lavender field, and the aspen grove.

Once you have identified a favorite place and the five different points of interest in that place, write your one page essay. Your paper should be thoughtful and explain in detail why this particular place is important to you. Note any special experiences or feelings that explain why the five different points of interest are special or significant. If you like, your essay may include photos of that place (if you have them) or images found online. You will be turning this in with portfolio 2.




6)))))))))Portfolio Assignment 5.4: Write a Transcendental Poem
It is now your turn to write your own transcendental poem modeled after Walt Whitman’s “There Was a Child Went Forth.” This is your chance to explore and exercise your own transcendental thinking. To make writing this poem easier on you, it will be divided up into sections, much like Whitman’s, and have a required number of lines in each section or stanza.

Look back on the poem and notice how the poem discusses how the child is made up of the following:

objects
locations and the people the child encounters at those locations
the family and home
the community
This is how you will structure your poem as well. Please don’t feel compelled to rhyme—nothing ruins a great poem more than a forced rhyme! Your poem should begin exactly like Whitman’s, replacing the pronouns for the appropriate gender, of course.

Stanza 1: Lines 1–4
There was a child went forth every day;

And the first object he look’d upon, that object he became;

And that object became part of him for the day, or a certain part of the day, or for many years, or stretching cycles of years.

Stanza 2: Lines 5–10
Next, there should be a stanza with at least five lines about the objects in your life that have helped shape you into the delightful human being you are. These objects could include items such as a special picture that has been in your hallway your whole life, a necklace, or a family pet.

Stanza 3: Lines 11–15
The next stanza is about the locations you are familiar with in your life and the people you have encountered in those locations. Again, five lines are required in this stanza. These locations could include places such as the neighborhood park, a church, a synagogue, a mosque, or a school. Any location is fine—use your imagination.

Stanza 4: Lines 16–20
The next stanza is about your family and home. Again, five lines are required in this stanza. These lines could be about your individual family members, a specific member of your family who has been extraordinarily important to you, the home you have grown up in, or the environment that has shaped you that involves your home or family.

Stanza 5: Lines 21–25
The next stanza is about your community. Think about the community you are living in either now, or in the early years of your life, or both. What is it like? Sometimes, for better or worse, our community will shape us. Describe the community around you. You must write at least five lines.

Stanza 6: Lines 26–28
You will conclude your poem with Whitman’s last lines:

These became part of that child who went forth every day, and who now goes, and will always go forth every day.

Go through the above list, keeping in mind that Whitman’s poem is your model and that you need five lines in each stanza. Some lines might be short, while others might be long. Always refer to Whitman’s poem to help and inspire you, just as he was inspired by his contemporaries. Remember, five lines for your stanzas is the minimum, but you are welcome to write more. Be descriptive and creative! This assignment should be typed, and will be turned in with portfolio 2.



7)))))))Beat Poem
It is arguable as to who was the better Beat: Jack Kerouac or Allen Ginsberg. Some say it had to be Jack Kerouac, because without him there would be no Beat Generation. Others say Allen Ginsberg was the better Beat because he had more writing talent and was more true to the actual Beat form. Either argument might be true. In the end, however, we can conclude that both writers were integral to the Beat movement. We can learn a lot by studying styles and reading works from various poets and authors. However, we can learn even more when we actually write ourselves.

Jack Kerouac was known for observing the world around him, writing everything, and (according to him) editing nothing, though he did edit the spacing so that poems looked like poems. The point of Beat poetry is to allow your mind to open up and let the thoughts flow out of your pen without restraint. Keep in mind Kerouac’s advice mentioned earlier:

Scribbled secret notebooks, and wild typewritten pages, for your own joy
Submissive to everything, open, listening
Be in love with your life
Something that you feel will find its own form
Write what you want bottomless from bottom of the mind
The unspeakable visions of the individual
Entranced fixation dreaming upon object before you
Remove literary, grammatical and syntactical inhibition
Telling the true story of the world in interior monolog
The jewel center of interest is the eye within the eye
Write in recollection and amazement for yourself
Work from pithy middle eye out, swimming in language sea
Accept loss forever
Believe in the holy contour of life
Struggle to sketch the flow that already exists intact in mind
Don’t think of words when you stop but to see picture better
Keep track of every day the date emblazoned in your morning
No fear or shame in the dignity of your experience, language & knowledge
Write for the world to read and see your exact pictures of it
You’re a Genius all the time
Your first step is to find an inspiration. It can be anything. Think of Kerouac’s tenth essential, “The jewel center of interest is the eye within the eye.” This is very Beat and transcendental at the same time. It means that your inspiration can come from inside of you; you’ll know it when you find it—or when it finds you.

The second step is to just write. This can sometimes be hard for students who want rules and guidelines. For example, if you feel like capitalizing a word, then capitalize it.

For your assignment, find your jewel center of interest and write a Beat poem. The assignment might seem vague, but it is purposely so. The only requirement is that your beat poem needs to be at least ten lines long. You are not required to go through an editing process with your poem—as Kerouac would advocate—but you might be more comfortable doing so. I will leave that up to you. You will be turning in your Beat poem with portfolio 2.

Please format and submit your assignment according to the instructions in the syllabus and format them in the following manner:

In the top left-hand side of the page please include:
the portfolio submission number
the name of the assignment and lesson number it came from
your name
date
Be sure to save your assignment as a .PDF file. Please keep copies of all assignments. Independent Study is not responsible for lost assignments.



8))))))))))))Opinion Essay
For your assignment, you will need to postulate a theory as to why the Beats strayed from the American transcendentalists. Obviously, because it is an opinion-based theory, you can rarely be wrong, unless you write something that is “constantly random.” Your theory needs to be grounded in the discussion material from this lesson, and you can also use the discussion material from lesson 5. Your essay needs to be typed, double spaced, and one page in length. You will be turning in your essay with portfolio 2.

Please format and submit your assignment according to the instructions in the syllabus and format them in the following manner:

In the top left-hand side of the page please include:
the portfolio submission number
the name of the assignment and lesson number it came from
your name
date
Be sure to save your assignment as a .PDF file. Please keep copies of all assignments. Independent Study is not responsible for lost assignments.



9)))))))))Scary Story Analysis
You have learned the history of suspense literature. You will need to think of a suspenseful and scary story that you are familiar with. It could be a movie, a book, or a story that is told around the campfire to scare people senseless. You will need to fill in the scary story chart (click here for an electronic copy of the assignment) and submit it with portfolio 2.

Please format and submit your assignment according to the instructions in the syllabus and format them in the following manner:

In the top left-hand side of the page please include:
the portfolio submission number
the name of the assignment and lesson number it came from
your name
date
Be sure to save your assignment as a .PDF file. Please keep copies of all assignments. Independent Study is not responsible for lost assignments.


You have learned the history of suspense literature. You will need to think of a suspenseful and scary story that you are familiar with. It could be a movie, a book, or a story that is told around the campfire to scare people senseless. You will need to fill in the scary story analysis chart below and submit it with portfolio 2.
Please keep copies of all assignments. Independent Study is not responsible for lost assignments.
Name:
Course Access Code:
Date:
Story Title:

Story Summary:
Provide a brief summary of the story so that I am familiar with the basic plot of the story.












• Everyday or “average” human experience(s)—setting





• Supernatural, sinister, or spooky element




• Character(s) who are affected by the supernatural, sinister, or spooky element




• Psychological element(s)




• Resolution—How does the story end?










10))))))Edgar Allan Poe Story Analysis
You will be reading a short story of Edgar Allan Poe’s called “William Wilson.” He wrote the classic suspenseful story in 1839. I don’t want to give anything away, so we’ll discuss literary terms after you have read the story. I have broken the story up into three parts and edited parts of it to make it a little shorter. The main character, William Wilson, goes through a dramatic change in characterization in the story. As you read, there are several things I want you to do:

Read the section once through for comprehension.
On the second reading, underline or highlight any words you don’t understand and look them up using another resource, such as a dictionary and write definition you find in the space provided. I want you to highlight at least one word per page, but my guess is there will be more than one word you want to look up.
In each part of the story (so a total of three times), write any questions you have about what is going on in the story in the space provided, and then write the answers to those questions as you find them in the story.
Underline or highlight the point in the story when William Wilson loses his sanity.
Make a note at the point in the story when you have what I call the “aha!” moment, when you understand what exactly is driving William Wilson insane.

Lesson 7: The Origins of Fear in Literature
Portfolio Assignment 7.3: Edgar Allan Poe Story Analysis

You will be reading a short story of Edgar Allan Poe’s called “William Wilson.” He wrote the classic suspenseful story in 1839. I don’t want to give anything away, so we’ll discuss literary terms after you have read the story. I have broken the story up into three parts and edited parts of it to make it a little shorter. The main character, William Wilson, goes through a dramatic change in characterization in the story. As you read, there are several things I want you to do:
• Read the section once through for comprehension.
• On the second reading, underline or highlight any words you don’t understand and look them up using another resource, such as a dictionary and type the definition you find in the space provided. I want you to highlight at least one word per page, but my guess is that there will be more than one word you want to look up. Save these changes to this document.
• On each part of the story (so a total of three times), write any questions you have about what is going on in the story in the space provided, and then write the answers to those questions as you find them in the story.
• Underline or highlight the point in the story when William Wilson loses his sanity.
• Make a note at the point in the story when you have what I call the “aha!” moment, when you understand what exactly is driving William Wilson insane.
You will need to fill in the “William Wilson” story chart below with your notes and submit it with portfolio 2. Name this file “yourlastname_PortfolioAssignment7.3.pdf” (for example, if my last name was Johnson, my portfolio assignment file name would be: Johnson_PortfolioAssignment7.3.pdf) and submit it to Independent Study using the instructions in the syllabus.
Please keep copies of all assignments. Independent Study is not responsible for lost assignments.
Name:
Course Access Code:
Date:
“William Wilson” (abridged)
By Edgar Allan Poe (1839)
http://www.online-literature.com/poe/47/
*Misspellings found in original text
Part 1: The Fractured Will
What say of it? what say of CONSCIENCE grim,
That spectre in my path?
—Chamberlayne's Pharronida.
LET me call myself, for the present, William Wilson. The fair page now lying before me need not be sullied with my real appellation. This has been already too much an object for the scorn—for the horror—for the detestation of my race. . . . Oh, outcast of all outcasts most abandoned!—to the earth art thou not forever dead? . . . and a cloud, dense, dismal, and limitless, does it not hang eternally between thy hopes and heaven?
I would not, if I could, here or to-day, embody a record of my later years of unspeakable misery, and unpardonable crime. This epoch—these later years—took unto themselves a sudden elevation in turpitude, whose origin alone it is my present purpose to assign. Men usually grow base by degrees. From me, in an instant, all virtue dropped bodily as a mantle. From comparatively trivial wickedness I passed, with the stride of a giant. . . . What chance—what one event brought this evil thing to pass, bear with me while I relate. Death approaches; and the shadow which foreruns him has thrown a softening influence over my spirit. I long, in passing through the dim valley, for the sympathy— . . . I had nearly said for the pity—of my fellow men. Have I not indeed been living in a dream?
I am the descendant of a race whose imaginative and easily excitable temperament has at all times rendered them remarkable. . . . As I advanced in years it was more strongly developed; becoming, for many reasons, a cause of serious disquietude to my friends, and of positive injury to myself. I grew self-willed, addicted to the wildest caprices, and a prey to the most ungovernable passions. . . . My parents could do but little to check the evil propensities which distinguished me. Some feeble and ill-directed efforts resulted in complete failure on their part, and, of course, in total triumph on mine. Thenceforward my voice was a household law. . . .
In truth, the ardor, the enthusiasm, and the imperiousness of my disposition, soon rendered me a marked character among my schoolmates, and by slow, but natural gradations, gave me an ascendancy over all not greatly older than myself;—over all with a single exception. This exception was found in the person of a scholar, who, although no relation, bore the same Christian and surname as myself;—a circumstance, in fact, little remarkable. . . . In this narrative I have therefore designated myself as William Wilson,—a fictitious title not very dissimilar to the real. My namesake alone, of those who in school phraseology constituted "our set," presumed to compete with me in the studies of the class—in the sports and broils of the play-ground—to refuse implicit belief in my assertions, and submission to my will—indeed, to interfere with my arbitrary dictation in any respect whatsoever. If there is on earth a supreme and unqualified despotism, it is the despotism of a master mind in boyhood over the less energetic spirits of its companions.
Wilson's rebellion was to me a source of the greatest embarrassment;—the more so as, in spite of the bravado with which in public I made a point of treating him and his pretensions, I secretly felt that I feared him, and could not help thinking the equality which he maintained so easily with myself, a proof of his true superiority; since not to be overcome cost me a perpetual struggle. Yet this superiority—even this equality—was in truth acknowledged by no one but myself; our associates, by some unaccountable blindness, seemed not even to suspect it. Indeed, his competition, his resistance, and especially his impertinent and dogged interference with my purposes, were not more pointed than private. He appeared to be destitute alike of the ambition which urged, and of the passionate energy of mind which enabled me to excel. In his rivalry he might have been supposed actuated solely by a whimsical desire to thwart, astonish, or mortify myself; although there were times when I could not help observing, with a feeling made up of wonder, abasement, and pique, that he mingled with his injuries, his insults, or his contradictions, a certain most inappropriate, and assuredly most unwelcome affectionateness of manner. I could only conceive this singular behavior to arise from a consummate self-conceit assuming the vulgar airs of patronage and protection.
Perhaps it was this latter trait in Wilson's conduct, conjoined with our identity of name, and the mere accident of our having entered the school upon the same day, which set afloat the notion that we were brothers, among the senior classes in the academy. These do not usually inquire with much strictness into the affairs of their juniors. I have before said, or should have said, that Wilson was not, in the most remote degree, connected with my family. But assuredly if we had been brothers we must have been twins; for, after leaving Dr. Bransby's, I casually learned that my namesake was born on the nineteenth of January, 1813—and this is a somewhat remarkable coincidence; for the day is precisely that of my own nativity.
It may seem strange that in spite of the continual anxiety occasioned me by the rivalry of Wilson, and his intolerable spirit of contradiction, I could not bring myself to hate him altogether. We had, to be sure, nearly every day a quarrel in which, yielding me publicly the palm of victory, he, in some manner, contrived to make me feel that it was he who had deserved it; yet a sense of pride on my part, and a veritable dignity on his own, kept us always upon what are called "speaking terms," while there were many points of strong congeniality in our tempers, operating to awake me in a sentiment which our position alone, perhaps, prevented from ripening into friendship. It is difficult, indeed, to define, or even to describe, my real feelings towards him. They formed a motley and heterogeneous admixture;—some petulant animosity, which was not yet hatred, some esteem, more respect, much fear, with a world of uneasy curiosity. To the moralist it will be unnecessary to say, in addition, that Wilson and myself were the most inseparable of companions.
It was no doubt the anomalous state of affairs existing between us, which turned all my attacks upon him, (and they were many, either open or covert) into the channel of banter or practical joke . . . rather than into a more serious and determined hostility. But my endeavours on this head were by no means uniformly successful, even when my plans were the most wittily concocted; for my namesake had much about him, in character, of that unassuming and quiet austerity which, while enjoying the poignancy of its own jokes, has no heel of Achilles in itself, and absolutely refuses to be laughed at. I could find, indeed, but one vulnerable point, and that, lying in a personal peculiarity, arising, perhaps, from constitutional disease, would have been spared by any antagonist less at his wit's end than myself;—my rival had a weakness . . . which precluded him from raising his voice at any time above a very low whisper. Of this defect I did not fall to take what poor advantage lay in my power.
Wilson's retaliations in kind were many; and there was one form of his practical wit that disturbed me beyond measure. How his sagacity first discovered at all that so petty a thing would vex me, is a question I never could solve; but, having discovered, he habitually practised the annoyance. . . . The words were venom in my ears; and when, upon the day of my arrival, a second William Wilson came also to the academy, I felt angry with him for bearing the name, and doubly disgusted with the name because a stranger bore it, who would be the cause of its twofold repetition, who would be constantly in my presence, and whose concerns, in the ordinary routine of the school business, must inevitably, on account of the detestable coincidence, be often confounded with my own. . . .
His cue, which was to perfect an imitation of myself, lay both in words and in actions; and most admirably did he play his part. My dress it was an easy matter to copy; my gait and general manner were, without difficulty, appropriated; in spite of his constitutional defect, even my voice did not escape him. My louder tones were, of course, unattempted, but then the key, it was identical; and his singular whisper, it grew the very echo of my own. . . .
I had but one consolation—in the fact that the imitation, apparently, was noticed by myself alone, and that I had to endure only the knowing and strangely sarcastic smiles of my namesake himself. Satisfied with having produced in my bosom the intended effect, he seemed to chuckle in secret over the sting he had inflicted, and was characteristically disregardful of the public applause which the success of his witty endeavours might have so easily elicited. That the school, indeed, did not feel his design, perceive its accomplishment, and participate in his sneer, was, for many anxious months, a riddle I could not resolve. . . .
I have already more than once spoken of . . . his frequent officious interference with my will. This interference often took the ungracious character of advice; advice not openly given, but hinted or insinuated. I received it with a repugnance which gained strength as I grew in years. Yet, at this distant day, let me do him the simple justice to acknowledge that I can recall no occasion when the suggestions of my rival were on the side of those errors or follies so usual to his immature age and seeming inexperience; that his moral sense, at least, if not his general talents and worldly wisdom, was far keener than my own; and that I might, to-day, have been a better, and thus a happier man, had I less frequently rejected the counsels embodied in those meaning whispers which I then but too cordially hated and too bitterly despised.
As it was, . . . I daily resented more and more openly what I considered his intolerable arrogance. I have said that, in the first years of our connection as schoolmates, my feelings in regard to him might have been easily ripened into friendship: but, in the latter months of my residence at the academy, although the intrusion of his ordinary manner had, beyond doubt, in some measure, abated, my sentiments, in nearly similar proportion, partook very much of positive hatred. . . .
It was about the same period, if I remember aright, that, in an altercation of violence with him, in which he was more than usually thrown off his guard, and spoke and acted with an openness of demeanor rather foreign to his nature, I discovered, or fancied I discovered, in his accent, his air, and general appearance, a something which first startled, and then deeply interested me, by bringing to mind dim visions of my earliest infancy—wild, confused and thronging memories of a time when memory herself was yet unborn. I cannot better describe the sensation which oppressed me than by saying that I could with difficulty shake off the belief of my having been acquainted with the being who stood before me, at some epoch very long ago—some point of the past even infinitely remote. . . .
One night, about the close of my fifth year at the school, and immediately after the altercation just mentioned, . . . I arose from bed, and, lamp in hand, stole through a wilderness of narrow passages from my own bedroom to that of my rival. I had long been plotting one of those ill-natured pieces of practical wit at his expense in which I had hitherto been so uniformly unsuccessful. It was my intention, now, to put my scheme in operation, and I resolved to make him feel the whole extent of the malice with which I was imbued. Having reached his closet, I noiselessly entered, leaving the lamp, with a shade over it, on the outside. I advanced a step, and listened to the sound of his tranquil breathing. Assured of his being asleep, I returned, took the light, and with it again approached the bed. Close curtains were around it, which, in the prosecution of my plan, I slowly and quietly withdrew, when the bright rays fell vividly upon the sleeper, and my eyes, at the same moment, upon his countenance. I looked;—and a numbness, an iciness of feeling instantly pervaded my frame. My breast heaved, my knees tottered, my whole spirit became possessed with an objectless yet intolerable horror. . . . Were these the lineaments of William Wilson? I saw, indeed, that they were his, but I shook as if with a fit in fancying they were not. . . . Not thus he appeared—assuredly not thus—in the vivacity of his waking hours. . . . With a creeping shudder, I extinguished the lamp, passed silently from the chamber, and left, at once, the halls of that old academy, never to enter them again.
Your Notes




Part 2: Conscience Grim

After a lapse of some months, . . . I found myself a student at Eton. The brief interval had been sufficient to enfeeble my remembrance of the events at the academy, or at least to effect a material change in the nature of the feelings with which I remembered them. The truth—the tragedy—of the drama was no more. I could now find room to doubt the evidence of my senses. . . .
I do not wish, however, to trace the course of my miserable profligacy here—a profligacy which set at defiance the laws, while it eluded the vigilance of the institution. Three years of folly passed without profit, had but given me rooted habits of vice, and added, in a somewhat unusual degree, to my bodily stature, when, after a week of soulless dissipation, I invited a small party of the most dissolute students to a secret carousal in my chambers. We met at a late hour of the night; for our debaucheries were to be faithfully protracted until morning. The wine flowed freely, and there were not wanting other and perhaps more dangerous seductions; so that the gray dawn had already faintly appeared in the east, while our delirious extravagance was at its height. Madly flushed with cards and intoxication, I was in the act of insisting upon a toast of more than wonted profanity, when my attention was suddenly diverted by the violent, although partial unclosing of the door of the apartment, and by the eager voice of a servant from without. He said that some person, apparently in great haste, demanded to speak with me in the hall.
Wildly excited with wine, the unexpected interruption rather delighted than surprised me. I staggered forward at once, and a few steps brought me to the vestibule of the building. In this low and small room there hung no lamp; and now no light at all was admitted. . . . This the faint light enabled me to perceive; but the features of his face I could not distinguish. Upon my entering he strode hurriedly up to me, and, seizing me by the arm with a gesture of petulant impatience, whispered the words "William Wilson!" in my ear.
I grew perfectly sober in an instant. There was that in the manner of the stranger, and in the tremulous shake of his uplifted finger, as he held it between my eyes and the light, which filled me with unqualified amazement; but it was not this which had so violently moved me. It was the pregnancy of solemn admonition in the singular, low, hissing utterance; and, above all, it was the character, the tone, the key, of those few, simple, and familiar, yet whispered syllables, which came with a thousand thronging memories of bygone days, and struck upon my soul with the shock of a galvanic battery. Ere I could recover the use of my senses he was gone.
Although this event failed not of a vivid effect upon my disordered imagination, yet was it evanescent as vivid. For some weeks, indeed, I busied myself in earnest inquiry, or was wrapped in a cloud of morbid speculation. I did not pretend to disguise from my perception the identity of the singular individual who thus perseveringly interfered with my affairs, and harassed me with his insinuated counsel. But who and what was this Wilson?—and whence came he?—and what were his purposes? Upon neither of these points could I be satisfied; merely ascertaining, in regard to him, that a sudden accident in his family had caused his removal from Dr. Bransby's academy on the afternoon of the day in which I myself had eloped. But in a brief period I ceased to think upon the subject; my attention being all absorbed in a contemplated departure for Oxford. . . .
. . . I had so utterly fallen from the gentlemanly estate, as to seek acquaintance with the vilest arts of the gambler by profession, and, having become an adept in his despicable science, to practise it habitually as a means of increasing my already enormous income at the expense of the weak-minded among my fellow-collegians. Such, nevertheless, was the fact. . . . I had been now two years successfully busied in this way, when there came to the university a young nobleman, Glendinning—rich, . . . his riches, too, as easily acquired. I soon found him of weak intellect, and, of course, marked him as a fitting subject for my skill. I frequently engaged him in play, and contrived, with the gambler's usual art, to let him win considerable sums, the more effectually to entangle him in my snares. At length, my schemes being ripe, I met him . . . at the chambers of a fellow-commoner, (Mr. Preston,) . . . to do him Justice, entertained not even a remote suspicion of my design. To give to this a better colouring, I had contrived to have assembled a party, . . . and was solicitously careful that the introduction of cards should appear accidental, and originate in the proposal of my contemplated dupe himself. . . .
Soon, Glendinning as my sole antagonist. The game, too, was my favorite, ecarte!.The rest of the company, interested in the extent of our play, had abandoned their own cards, and were standing around us as spectators. Glendinning, , who had been induced by my artifices in the early part of the evening, to drink deeply, now shuffled, dealt, or played, with a wild nervousness of manner for which his intoxication, I thought, might partially, but could not altogether account. In a very short period he had become my debtor to a large amount, when, having taken a long draught of port, he did precisely what I had been coolly anticipating—he proposed to double our already extravagant stakes. With a well-feigned show of reluctance, and not until after my repeated refusal had seduced him into some angry words which gave a color of pique to my compliance, did I finally comply. . . . In less than an hour he had quadrupled his debt. For some time his countenance had grown to a pallor truly fearful. I was about to insist, . . . upon a discontinuance of the play, when some expressions at my elbow from among the company, and an ejaculation evincing utter despair on the part of Glendinning, gave me to understand that I had effected his total ruin under circumstances which, rendering him an object for the pity of all, should have protected him from the ill offices even of a fiend.
What now might have been my conduct it is difficult to say. The pitiable condition of my dupe had thrown an air of embarrassed gloom over all; and, for some moments, a profound silence was maintained, during which I could not help feeling my cheeks tingle with the many burning glances of scorn or reproach cast upon me by the less abandoned of the party. I will even own that an intolerable weight of anxiety was for a brief instant lifted from my bosom by the sudden and extraordinary interruption which ensued. The wide, heavy folding doors of the apartment were all at once thrown open, to their full extent, with a vigorous and rushing impetuosity that extinguished, as if by magic, every candle in the room. Their light, in dying, enabled us just to perceive that a stranger had entered, about my own height, and closely muffled in a cloak. The darkness, however, was now total; and we could only feel that he was standing in our midst. Before any one of us could recover from the extreme astonishment into which this rudeness had thrown all, we heard the voice of the intruder.
"Gentlemen," he said, in a low, distinct, and never-to-be-forgotten whisper which thrilled to the very marrow of my bones, "Gentlemen, I make no apology for this behaviour, because in thus behaving, I am but fulfilling a duty. You are, beyond doubt, uninformed of the true character of the person who has to-night won at ecarte a large sum of money from Lord Glendinning. I will therefore put you upon an expeditious and decisive plan of obtaining this very necessary information. Please to examine, at your leisure, the inner linings of the cuff of his left sleeve, and the several little packages which may be found in the somewhat capacious pockets of his embroidered morning wrapper."

Part 3: The Demise of Conscience
While he spoke, so profound was the stillness that one might have heard a pin drop upon the floor. In ceasing, he departed at once, and as abruptly as he had entered. Can I—shall I describe my sensations?—must I say that I felt all the horrors of the damned? Most assuredly I had little time given for reflection. Many hands roughly seized me upon the spot, and lights were immediately reprocured. A search ensued. In the lining of my sleeve were found all the court cards essential in ecarte, and, in the pockets of my wrapper, a number of packs, facsimiles of those used at our sittings, with the single exception that mine were of the species called, technically, arrondees; the honours being slightly convex at the ends, the lower cards slightly convex at the sides. In this disposition, the dupe who cuts, as customary, at the length of the pack, will invariably find that he cuts his antagonist an honor; while the gambler, cutting at the breadth, will, as certainly, cut nothing for his victim which may count in the records of the game. . . .
"Mr. Wilson," said our host, stooping to remove from beneath his feet an exceedingly luxurious cloak of rare furs, "Mr. Wilson, this is your property. . . . I presume it is supererogatory to seek here . . . for any farther evidence of your skill. Indeed, we have had enough. You will see the necessity, I hope, of quitting Oxford—at all events, of quitting instantly my chambers."
Abased, humbled to the dust as I then was, it is probable that I should have resented this galling language by immediate personal violence, had not my whole attention been at the moment arrested by a fact of the most startling character. . . . When, therefore, Mr. Preston reached me that which he had picked up upon the floor, and near the folding doors of the apartment, it was with an astonishment nearly bordering upon terror, that I perceived my own already hanging on my arm, (where I had no doubt unwittingly placed it,) and that the one presented me was but its exact counterpart in every, in even the minutest possible particular. The singular being who had so disastrously exposed me, had been muffled, I remembered, in a cloak; and none had been worn at all by any of the members of our party with the exception of myself. Retaining some presence of mind, I took the one offered me by Preston; placed it, unnoticed, over my own; left the apartment with a resolute scowl of defiance; and, next morning ere dawn of day, commenced a hurried journey from Oxford to the continent, in a perfect agony of horror and of shame.
I fled in vain. My evil destiny pursued me as if in exultation, and proved, indeed, that the exercise of its mysterious dominion had as yet only begun. Scarcely had I set foot in Paris ere I had fresh evidence of the detestable interest taken by this Wilson in my concerns. Years flew, while I experienced no relief. Villain!—at Rome, with how untimely, yet with how spectral an officiousness, stepped he in between me and my ambition! At Vienna, too—at Berlin—and at Moscow! Where, in truth, had I not bitter cause to curse him within my heart? From his inscrutable tyranny did I at length flee, panic-stricken, as from a pestilence; and to the very ends of the earth I fled in vain.
And again, and again, in secret communion with my own spirit, would I demand the questions "Who is he?—whence came he?—and what are his objects?" But no answer was there found. And then I scrutinized, with a minute scrutiny, the forms, and the methods, and the leading traits of his impertinent supervision. But even here there was very little upon which to base a conjecture. It was noticeable, indeed, that, in no one of the multiplied instances in which he had of late crossed my path, had he so crossed it except to frustrate those schemes, or to disturb those actions, which, if fully carried out, might have resulted in bitter mischief. Poor justification this, in truth, for an authority so imperiously assumed! Poor indemnity for natural rights of self-agency so pertinacious, so insultingly denied!
I had also been forced to notice that my tormentor, for a very long period of time, . . . had so contrived it, in the execution of his varied interference with my will, that I saw not, at any moment, the features of his face. . . . Could he, for an instant, have supposed that, in my admonisher at Eton—in the destroyer of my honor at Oxford, . . . —that in this, my arch-enemy and evil genius, could fall to recognise the William Wilson of my school boy days,—the namesake, the companion, the rival,—the hated and dreaded rival at Dr. Bransby's academy? Impossible!—But let me hasten to the last eventful scene of the drama.
Thus far I had succumbed supinely to this imperious domination. . . . But, of late days, I had given myself up entirely to wine; and its maddening influence upon my hereditary temper rendered me more and more impatient of control. I began to murmur,—to hesitate,—to resist. And was it only fancy which induced me to believe that, with the increase of my own firmness that of my tormentor underwent a proportional diminution? Be this as it may, I now began to feel the inspiration of a burning hope, and at length nurtured in my secret thoughts a stern and desperate resolution that I would submit no longer to be enslaved.
It was at Rome, during the Carnival that I attended a masquerade in the palazzo of the Neapolitan Duke Di Broglio. I had indulged more freely than usual in the excesses of the wine-table; and now the suffocating atmosphere of the crowded rooms irritated me beyond endurance. The difficulty, too, of forcing my way through the mazes of the company contributed not a little to the ruffling of my temper; for I was anxiously seeking . . . a young beautiful woman. Having caught a glimpse of her person, I was hurrying to make my way into her presence.—At this moment I felt a light hand placed upon my shoulder, and that ever-remembered, low, damnable whisper within my ear.
In an absolute phrenzy of wrath, I turned at once upon him who had thus interrupted me, and seized him violently by tile collar. He was attired, as I had expected, in a costume altogether similar to my own; wearing a Spanish cloak of blue velvet, begirt about the waist with a crimson belt sustaining a rapier. A mask of black silk entirely covered his face.
"Scoundrel!" I said, in a voice husky with rage, while every syllable I uttered seemed as new fuel to my fury, "scoundrel! impostor! accursed villain! you shall not—you shall not dog me unto death! Follow me, or I stab you where you stand!"—and I broke my way from the ball-room into a small ante-chamber adjoining—dragging him unresistingly with me as I went.
Upon entering, I thrust him furiously from me. He staggered against the wall, while I closed the door with an oath, and commanded him to draw. He hesitated but for an instant; then, with a slight sigh, drew in silence, and put himself upon his defence.
The contest was brief indeed. I was frantic with every species of wild excitement, and felt within my single arm the energy and power of a multitude. In a few seconds I forced him by sheer strength against the wainscoting, and thus, getting him at mercy, plunged my sword, with brute ferocity, repeatedly through and through his bosom.
At that instant some person tried the latch of the door. I hastened to prevent an intrusion, and then immediately returned to my dying antagonist. But what human language can adequately portray that astonishment, that horror which possessed me at the spectacle then presented to view? The brief moment in which I averted my eyes had been sufficient to produce, apparently, a material change in the arrangements at the upper or farther end of the room. A large mirror,—so at first it seemed to me in my confusion—now stood where none had been perceptible before; and, as I stepped up to it in extremity of terror, mine own image, but with features all pale and dabbled in blood, advanced to meet me with a feeble and tottering gait.
Thus it appeared, I say, but was not. It was my antagonist—it was Wilson, who then stood before me in the agonies of his dissolution. His mask and cloak lay, where he had thrown them, upon the floor. Not a thread in all his raiment—not a line in all the marked and singular lineaments of his face which was not, even in the most absolute identity, mine own!
It was Wilson; but he spoke no longer in a whisper, and I could have fancied that I myself was speaking while he said:
"You have conquered, and I yield. Yet, henceforward art thou also dead—dead to the World, to Heaven and to Hope! In me didst thou exist—and, in my death, see by this image, which is thine own, how utterly thou hast murdered thyself."


11))))))Persuasive Essay Part 1 and Part 2
To download the portfolio assignment onto your computer, click here. Answer the questions in the essay charts and submit the assignment with your portfolio 2.

Assignment Submission Requirements
As you begin to write your essay please keep the following requirements in mind:

This packet will be turned in for a grade. Don’t lose it. Submit in portfolio 2.
Page length will vary depending on topics. Looking at paragraphs, however, let’s break this down:
Paragraph 1: Introduction
emotional argument included
Paragraph 2: Logical Appeal #1
Paragraph 3: Logical Appeal #2
Paragraph 4: Logical Appeal #3
Paragraph 5: Conceded point #1
Counterargument #1 included
Paragraph 6: Conceded point #2
Counterargument #2 included
Paragraph 7: Conclusion paragraph
emotional appeal revisited
call to action included
Your essay should contain seven paragraphs total. Remember, actual page length will vary, so there is no minimum or maximum requirement.
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12)))))))Analyzing War of the Worlds
When reading texts that fit the suspense genre, it is easy to only think of stories that fit a certain stereotype. However, Edgar Allan Poe is not the only author who fits the genre, and narrative texts are not the only texts that fit the type. The War of the Worlds is a perfect example for both the suspense genre and informational text, because it terrified a portion of the nation in a unique way. It has all the elements necessary to fit the suspense genre, and it is written as a radio play and presented as a news broadcast. Sometimes, what makes suspense genre so terrifying is that you legitimately don’t know when and where it will pop up.

The story analysis chart should be familiar to you as you completed one in lesson 7. You will now need to complete a similar chart for The War of the Worlds and turn it in with your portfolio 2.



13)))))))Chapter Questions
As you read the novel, you will be answering chapter questions in a minimum of two to three complete sentences for chapters 9–16. Answer the questions in the following chart and submit the assignment with your portfolio 3



14))))))))Text-to-text Comparison Essay
For your essay, you need to first decide if Y. A. Tittle showed true courage based on Atticus Finch’s definition of courage. Atticus says, “I wanted you to see what real courage is, instead of getting the idea that courage is a man with a gun in his hand. It’s when you know you’re licked before you begin but you begin anyway and you see it through no matter what. You rarely win, but sometimes you do.” The second step is to find examples of Tittle showing courage or not showing courage. The third and final step is writing your essay supporting your opinion.

Your essay needs to be one and a half pages in length and express your opinion on whether or not Y.A. Tittle illustrated true courage according to Atticus Finch’s standard. You must include quotes from the essay and textual evidence from the novel. Your essay needs to be typed and double-spaced (12-point Times New Roman font).


15))))))))))Comparison Essay
After reading chapters 24–26 of Hübener vs. Hitler, write a two-page essay in which you compare Atticus Finch to Helmuth Hübener. You can approach this comparison in any way you see the connection. You are required to include a minimum of four citations; one citation must come from the novel To Kill a Mockingbird. Refer to the examples in this objective for how to format your citations. Your essay must have one-inch margins and be typed, double-spaced, and in 12-point Times New Roman font.



16))))))))Chapter Questions
As you read the novel, you will be answering chapter questions in a minimum of two to three complete sentences for chapters 17–24. Answer the questions in the following chart and submit the assignment with your portfolio.
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17))))))Chapter Questions
As you read the novel, you will be answering chapter questions in a minimum of two to three complete sentences for chapters 25–31. Answer the questions in the following chart and submit the assignment with your portfolio 3.
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18))))))))Parent Contrast Essay
Your essay should contain five well-developed paragraphs, and that includes an introduction paragraph, three main idea paragraphs, and a concluding paragraph. Your essay topic is the following:

Contrast Atticus, Bob Ewell, and Walter Cunningham as parents.

Your essay’s outline should be set up in this way:

Paragraph 1: Introduction
Paragraph 2: Atticus as a parent
Paragraph 3: Bob Ewell as a parent
Paragraph 4: Walter Cunningham as a parent
Paragraph 5: Conclusion
This essay will be submitted in portfolio 3. Your essay is required to be typed, double-spaced in Times New Roman font, size 12.
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