Middle School Initial Assessment - Fundamentals

(1) It was dark when supper was ready, and still no sign of Anne, coming hurriedly over the log bridge or up Lover’s Lane, breathless and repentant with a sense of neglected duties. Marilla washed and put away the dishes grimly. Then, wanting a candle to light her way down the cellar, she went up to the east gable for the one that generally stood on Anne’s table. Lighting it, she turned around to see Anne herself lying on the bed, face downward among the pillows.

(2) “Mercy on us,” said astonished Marilla, “have you been asleep, Anne?”

(3) “No,” was the muffled reply.

(4) “Are you sick then?” demanded Marilla anxiously, going over to the bed.

(5) Anne cowered deeper into her pillows as if desirous of hiding herself forever from mortal eyes.

(6) “No. But please, Marilla, go away and don’t look at me. I’m in the depths of despair and I don’t care who gets ahead in class or writes the best composition or sings in the Sunday-school choir any more. Little things like that are of no importance now, because I don’t suppose I’ll ever be able to go anywhere again. My career is closed. Please, Marilla, go away and don’t look at me.”

(7) “Did anyone ever hear the like?” the mystified Marilla wanted to know. “Anne Shirley, whatever is the matter with you? What have you done? Get right up this minute and tell me. This minute, I say. There now, what is it?”

(8) Anne had slid to the floor in despairing obedience.

(9) “Look at my hair, Marilla,” she whispered.

(10) Accordingly, Marilla lifted her candle and looked scrutinizingly at Anne’s hair, flowing in heavy masses down her back. It certainly had a very strange appearance.

(11) “Anne Shirley, what have you done to your hair? Why, it’s green!”

(12) Green it might be called, if it were any earthly color—a dull, bronzy green, with streaks here and there of the original red to heighten the ghastly effect. Never in all her life had Marilla seen anything so grotesque as Anne’s hair at that moment.

(13) “Yes, it’s green,” moaned Anne. “I thought nothing could be as bad as red hair. But now I know it’s ten times worse to have green hair. Oh, Marilla, you little know how utterly wretched I am.”

(14) “I little know how you got into this fix, but I mean to find out,” said Marilla. “Come right down to the kitchen—it’s too cold up here—and tell me just what you’ve done. I’ve been expecting something queer for some time. You haven’t got into any scrape for over two months, and I was sure another one was due. Now, then, what did you do to your hair?”

(15) “I dyed it.”

(16) “Dyed it! Dyed your hair! Anne Shirley, didn’t you know it was a wicked thing to do?”

(17) “Yes, I knew it was a little wicked,” admitted Anne. “But I thought it was worth while to be a little wicked to get rid of red hair. I counted the cost, Marilla. Besides, I meant to be extra good in other ways to make up for it.”

The following passage is from The Blue Castle (1926) by Lucy Maud Montgomery.

(1) Valancy wakened early, in the lifeless, hopeless hour just preceding dawn. She had not slept very well. One does not sleep well, sometimes, when one is twenty-nine on the morrow, and unmarried, in a community and connection where the unmarried are simply those who have failed to get a man.

(2) Deerwood and the Stirlings had long since relegated Valancy to hopeless old maidenhood. But Valancy herself had never quite relinquished a certain pitiful, shamed, little hope that Romance would come her way yet—never, until this wet, horrible morning, when she wakened to the fact that she was twenty-nine and unsought by any man.

(3) Ay, there lay the sting. Valancy did not mind so much being an old maid. After all, she thought, being an old maid couldn't possibly be as dreadful as being married to an Uncle Wellington or an Uncle Benjamin, or even an Uncle Herbert. What hurt her was that she had never had a chance to be anything but an old maid. No man had ever desired her.

(4) The tears came into her eyes as she lay there alone in the faintly greying darkness. She dared not let herself cry as hard as she wanted to, for two reasons. She was afraid that crying might bring on another attack of that pain around the heart. She had had a spell of it after she had got into bed—rather worse than any she had had yet. And she was afraid her mother would notice her red eyes at breakfast and keep at her with minute, persistent, mosquito-like questions regarding the cause thereof.

(5) "Suppose," thought Valancy with a ghastly grin, "I answered with the plain truth, 'I am crying because I cannot get married.' How horrified Mother would be—though she is ashamed every day of her life of her old maid daughter."

(6) But of course appearances should be kept up. "It is not," Valancy could hear her mother's prim, dictatorial voice asserting, "it is not maidenly to think about men."

(7) The thought of her mother's expression made Valancy laugh—for she had a sense of humour nobody in her clan suspected. For that matter, there were a good many things about Valancy that nobody suspected. But her laughter was very superficial and presently she lay there, a huddled, futile little figure, listening to the rain pouring down outside and watching, with a sick distaste, the chill, merciless light creeping into her ugly, sordid room.

The following text is from Charles’s Dicken’s 1838 novel, Oliver Twist. Oliver is a young boy living alongside many other boys in a workhouse in Victorian London. 

(1) The room in which the boys were fed, was a large stone hall, with a copper [a large, heated copper pot] at one end: out of which the master, dressed in an apron for the purpose, and assisted by one or two women, ladled the gruel [a watery cereal like very thin oatmeal] at mealtimes. Of this festive composition each boy had one porringer [small bowl], and no more—except on occasions of great public rejoicing, when he had two ounces and a quarter of bread besides. 

(2) The bowls never wanted washing. The boys polished them with their spoons till they shone again; and when they had performed this operation (which never took very long, the spoons being nearly as large as the bowls), they would sit staring at the copper, with such eager eyes, as if they could have devoured the very bricks of which it was composed; employing themselves, meanwhile, in sucking their fingers most assiduously [diligently], with the view of catching up any stray splashes of gruel that might have been cast thereon. Boys have generally excellent appetites. Oliver Twist and his companions suffered the tortures of slow starvation for three months: at last they got so voracious and wild with hunger, that one boy, who was tall for his age, and hadn’t been used to that sort of thing (for his father had kept a small cook-shop), hinted darkly to his companions, that unless he had another basin of gruel per diem [each day], he was afraid he might some night happen to eat the boy who slept next him, who happened to be a weakly youth of tender age. He had a wild, hungry eye; and they implicitly believed him. A council was held; lots [objects, such as straws, that would be taken out of a container to make a decision or choice] were cast who should walk up to the master after supper that evening, and ask for more; and it fell to Oliver Twist. 

(3) The evening arrived; the boys took their places. The master, in his cook’s uniform, stationed himself at the copper; his pauper [poor] assistants ranged themselves behind him; the gruel was served out; and a long grace was said over the short commons. The gruel disappeared; the boys whispered each other, and winked at Oliver; while his next neighbors nudged him. Child as he was, he was desperate with hunger, and reckless with misery. He rose from the table; and advancing to the master, basin and spoon in hand, said: somewhat alarmed at his own temerity [bravery]: 

(4) “Please, sir, I want some more.”

(5) The master was a fat, healthy man; but he turned very pale. He gazed in stupefied astonishment on the small rebel for some seconds, and then clung for support to the copper. The assistants were paralysed with wonder; the boys with fear.

(6) “What!” said the master at length, in a faint voice.

(7) “Please, sir,” replied Oliver, “I want some more.”

(8) The master aimed a blow at Oliver’s head with the ladle; pinioned [trapped] him in his arm; and shrieked aloud for the beadle [an official].

(9) The board were sitting in solemn conclave [meeting], when Mr. Bumble rushed into the room in great excitement, and addressing the gentleman in the high chair, said,

(10) “Mr. Limbkins, I beg your pardon, sir! Oliver Twist has asked for more!”

(11) There was a general start. Horror was depicted on every countenance [face].

(12) “For more!” said Mr. Limbkins. “Compose yourself, Bumble, and answer me distinctly [clearly]. Do I understand that he asked for more, after he had eaten the supper allotted by the dietary?”

(13) “He did, sir,” replied Bumble.

(14) “That boy will be hung,” said the gentleman in the white waistcoat. “I know that boy will be hung.”

(15) Nobody controverted [argued with] the prophetic gentleman’s opinion. An animated discussion took place. Oliver was ordered into instant confinement; and a bill was next morning pasted on the outside of the gate, offering a reward of five pounds to anybody who would take Oliver Twist off the hands of the parish. In other words, five pounds and Oliver Twist were offered to any man or woman who wanted an apprentice to any trade, business, or calling. 

Directions: Write a response to the prompt below.

Directions: Write a response to the prompt below.

Directions: Write a response to the prompt below.