Task 3

This is a prime example of what can be called a Quality Awful Film. This is one of those movies that have you wondering. Long before the actors signed up and the locations were chosen and the sets were built and the filming began, how did someone not say, “Um, we have a big problem with this story”?

Which movie ________?

My Greek Christmas

Family Bonding Takes on New Meaning in My Loud, Loving Family.

Every Christmas, my entire family overstuffs their suitcases and heads over to my grandparents’ house for a vacation filled with comfort, food and family bonding. But this is not just any family bonding, this is customary Greek family bonding. Driving up to the house is an experience in itself. On their street we pass about 13 cars all with cleverly titled Greek-themed license plates only to find my Grandpa in the yard, decorating a miniature replica of the Parthenon with blue and white lights. We step inside the door to an overwhelming greeting, and 643 kisses later. Every year, it never fails. I wander around their house in search of a majestic Christmas tree. And every year I find a tall basket of tomatoes standing in for it instead.

After my discovery (or re-discovery) of the glowing tomato “temple’’, I watch my baby cousins torture the Greek Gods — also known as the cats — Kosta, Aristotle and Athena. The dinner bell has been politely rung, otherwise known as my Grandma banging her spoon against a bowl, and in a matter of seconds there is utter chaos, and there is no other way of describing it. Looking into the kitchen I see four loaves of bread, 40 stuffed tomatoes, a platter of freshly sliced lamb, a massive Greek salad, an equally massive “peasant” salad, giant lemon shrimp, and of course, a beautiful block of feta cheese.

We all sit down to eat, and soon enough, all my great-uncles are screaming at each other about money or Greek politics. (News flash: They have all lived in America for the past 40 years). By the end of dinner Grandma takes out the CD player for a little tsifteteli and kalamatiano. And then we dance in circles around the kitchen until we can’t see straight and return to the table, only to find more food being served for us — watermelon, grapes, cookies and coffee. It is almost three in the morning now and I figure when the Greek alphabet is racing through my mind that I am unable to think and must retire to my plastic-covered couch.

As I lie there, I suddenly realize how truly lucky I am. I was graced with such a vibrant, loving culture and wouldn’t change it for the world. Sure, my big Greek family can be overwhelming with their eating and kissing and dancing, but the love they have for each other is so obvious and so comforting. When I spend time with my Greek relatives I feel where I belong. Furthermore, growing up Greek has taught me to appreciate the different cultures that this world has to offer.

I wake up the next morning to find my whole family singing Greek Christmas songs with Santa ... dressed in a toga. Merry Christmas, Kala Christouyenna, Feliz Navidad, however you want to say it, and I hope you cherish your family time as much as I do.

Which of the following is NOT mentioned in the text?

My Greek Christmas

Family Bonding Takes on New Meaning in My Loud, Loving Family.

Every Christmas, my entire family overstuffs their suitcases and heads over to my grandparents’ house for a vacation filled with comfort, food and family bonding. But this is not just any family bonding, this is customary Greek family bonding. Driving up to the house is an experience in itself. On their street we pass about 13 cars all with cleverly titled Greek-themed license plates only to find my Grandpa in the yard, decorating a miniature replica of the Parthenon with blue and white lights. We step inside the door to an overwhelming greeting, and 643 kisses later. Every year, it never fails. I wander around their house in search of a majestic Christmas tree. And every year I find a tall basket of tomatoes standing in for it instead.

After my discovery (or re-discovery) of the glowing tomato “temple’’, I watch my baby cousins torture the Greek Gods — also known as the cats — Kosta, Aristotle and Athena. The dinner bell has been politely rung, otherwise known as my Grandma banging her spoon against a bowl, and in a matter of seconds there is utter chaos, and there is no other way of describing it. Looking into the kitchen I see four loaves of bread, 40 stuffed tomatoes, a platter of freshly sliced lamb, a massive Greek salad, an equally massive “peasant” salad, giant lemon shrimp, and of course, a beautiful block of feta cheese.

We all sit down to eat, and soon enough, all my great-uncles are screaming at each other about money or Greek politics. (News flash: They have all lived in America for the past 40 years). By the end of dinner Grandma takes out the CD player for a little tsifteteli and kalamatiano. And then we dance in circles around the kitchen until we can’t see straight and return to the table, only to find more food being served for us — watermelon, grapes, cookies and coffee. It is almost three in the morning now and I figure when the Greek alphabet is racing through my mind that I am unable to think and must retire to my plastic-covered couch.

As I lie there, I suddenly realize how truly lucky I am. I was graced with such a vibrant, loving culture and wouldn’t change it for the world. Sure, my big Greek family can be overwhelming with their eating and kissing and dancing, but the love they have for each other is so obvious and so comforting. When I spend time with my Greek relatives I feel where I belong. Furthermore, growing up Greek has taught me to appreciate the different cultures that this world has to offer.

I wake up the next morning to find my whole family singing Greek Christmas songs with Santa ... dressed in a toga. Merry Christmas, Kala Christouyenna, Feliz Navidad, however you want to say it, and I hope you cherish your family time as much as I do.

It can be inferred from the text that tsifteteli and kalamatiano are ________ .

My Greek Christmas

Family Bonding Takes on New Meaning in My Loud, Loving Family.

Every Christmas, my entire family overstuffs their suitcases and heads over to my grandparents’ house for a vacation filled with comfort, food and family bonding. But this is not just any family bonding, this is customary Greek family bonding. Driving up to the house is an experience in itself. On their street we pass about 13 cars all with cleverly titled Greek-themed license plates only to find my Grandpa in the yard, decorating a miniature replica of the Parthenon with blue and white lights. We step inside the door to an overwhelming greeting, and 643 kisses later. Every year, it never fails. I wander around their house in search of a majestic Christmas tree. And every year I find a tall basket of tomatoes standing in for it instead.

After my discovery (or re-discovery) of the glowing tomato “temple’’, I watch my baby cousins torture the Greek Gods — also known as the cats — Kosta, Aristotle and Athena. The dinner bell has been politely rung, otherwise known as my Grandma banging her spoon against a bowl, and in a matter of seconds there is utter chaos, and there is no other way of describing it. Looking into the kitchen I see four loaves of bread, 40 stuffed tomatoes, a platter of freshly sliced lamb, a massive Greek salad, an equally massive “peasant” salad, giant lemon shrimp, and of course, a beautiful block of feta cheese.

We all sit down to eat, and soon enough, all my great-uncles are screaming at each other about money or Greek politics. (News flash: They have all lived in America for the past 40 years). By the end of dinner Grandma takes out the CD player for a little tsifteteli and kalamatiano. And then we dance in circles around the kitchen until we can’t see straight and return to the table, only to find more food being served for us — watermelon, grapes, cookies and coffee. It is almost three in the morning now and I figure when the Greek alphabet is racing through my mind that I am unable to think and must retire to my plastic-covered couch.

As I lie there, I suddenly realize how truly lucky I am. I was graced with such a vibrant, loving culture and wouldn’t change it for the world. Sure, my big Greek family can be overwhelming with their eating and kissing and dancing, but the love they have for each other is so obvious and so comforting. When I spend time with my Greek relatives I feel where I belong. Furthermore, growing up Greek has taught me to appreciate the different cultures that this world has to offer.

I wake up the next morning to find my whole family singing Greek Christmas songs with Santa ... dressed in a toga. Merry Christmas, Kala Christouyenna, Feliz Navidad, however you want to say it, and I hope you cherish your family time as much as I do.

Why did the author’s grandmother hit her spoon against a bowl?

My Greek Christmas

Family Bonding Takes on New Meaning in My Loud, Loving Family.

Every Christmas, my entire family overstuffs their suitcases and heads over to my grandparents’ house for a vacation filled with comfort, food and family bonding. But this is not just any family bonding, this is customary Greek family bonding. Driving up to the house is an experience in itself. On their street we pass about 13 cars all with cleverly titled Greek-themed license plates only to find my Grandpa in the yard, decorating a miniature replica of the Parthenon with blue and white lights. We step inside the door to an overwhelming greeting, and 643 kisses later. Every year, it never fails. I wander around their house in search of a majestic Christmas tree. And every year I find a tall basket of tomatoes standing in for it instead.

After my discovery (or re-discovery) of the glowing tomato “temple’’, I watch my baby cousins torture the Greek Gods — also known as the cats — Kosta, Aristotle and Athena. The dinner bell has been politely rung, otherwise known as my Grandma banging her spoon against a bowl, and in a matter of seconds there is utter chaos, and there is no other way of describing it. Looking into the kitchen I see four loaves of bread, 40 stuffed tomatoes, a platter of freshly sliced lamb, a massive Greek salad, an equally massive “peasant” salad, giant lemon shrimp, and of course, a beautiful block of feta cheese.

We all sit down to eat, and soon enough, all my great-uncles are screaming at each other about money or Greek politics. (News flash: They have all lived in America for the past 40 years). By the end of dinner Grandma takes out the CD player for a little tsifteteli and kalamatiano. And then we dance in circles around the kitchen until we can’t see straight and return to the table, only to find more food being served for us — watermelon, grapes, cookies and coffee. It is almost three in the morning now and I figure when the Greek alphabet is racing through my mind that I am unable to think and must retire to my plastic-covered couch.

As I lie there, I suddenly realize how truly lucky I am. I was graced with such a vibrant, loving culture and wouldn’t change it for the world. Sure, my big Greek family can be overwhelming with their eating and kissing and dancing, but the love they have for each other is so obvious and so comforting. When I spend time with my Greek relatives I feel where I belong. Furthermore, growing up Greek has taught me to appreciate the different cultures that this world has to offer.

I wake up the next morning to find my whole family singing Greek Christmas songs with Santa ... dressed in a toga. Merry Christmas, Kala Christouyenna, Feliz Navidad, however you want to say it, and I hope you cherish your family time as much as I do.

What did the author say about the Christmas tree in her grandparents’ house?

Task 2

My Greek Christmas

Family Bonding Takes on New Meaning in My Loud, Loving Family.

Every Christmas, my entire family overstuffs their suitcases and heads over to my grandparents’ house for a vacation filled with comfort, food and family bonding. But this is not just any family bonding, this is customary Greek family bonding. Driving up to the house is an experience in itself. On their street we pass about 13 cars all with cleverly titled Greek-themed license plates only to find my Grandpa in the yard, decorating a miniature replica of the Parthenon with blue and white lights. We step inside the door to an overwhelming greeting, and 643 kisses later. Every year, it never fails. I wander around their house in search of a majestic Christmas tree. And every year I find a tall basket of tomatoes standing in for it instead.

After my discovery (or re-discovery) of the glowing tomato “temple’’, I watch my baby cousins torture the Greek Gods — also known as the cats — Kosta, Aristotle and Athena. The dinner bell has been politely rung, otherwise known as my Grandma banging her spoon against a bowl, and in a matter of seconds there is utter chaos, and there is no other way of describing it. Looking into the kitchen I see four loaves of bread, 40 stuffed tomatoes, a platter of freshly sliced lamb, a massive Greek salad, an equally massive “peasant” salad, giant lemon shrimp, and of course, a beautiful block of feta cheese.

We all sit down to eat, and soon enough, all my great-uncles are screaming at each other about money or Greek politics. (News flash: They have all lived in America for the past 40 years). By the end of dinner Grandma takes out the CD player for a little tsifteteli and kalamatiano. And then we dance in circles around the kitchen until we can’t see straight and return to the table, only to find more food being served for us — watermelon, grapes, cookies and coffee. It is almost three in the morning now and I figure when the Greek alphabet is racing through my mind that I am unable to think and must retire to my plastic-covered couch.

As I lie there, I suddenly realize how truly lucky I am. I was graced with such a vibrant, loving culture and wouldn’t change it for the world. Sure, my big Greek family can be overwhelming with their eating and kissing and dancing, but the love they have for each other is so obvious and so comforting. When I spend time with my Greek relatives I feel where I belong. Furthermore, growing up Greek has taught me to appreciate the different cultures that this world has to offer.

I wake up the next morning to find my whole family singing Greek Christmas songs with Santa ... dressed in a toga. Merry Christmas, Kala Christouyenna, Feliz Navidad, however you want to say it, and I hope you cherish your family time as much as I do.

What is TRUE of the cars near the house of the author’s grandparents?

____________

Pretend you are someone else writing the paper. For instance, assume you are the president of a strong feminist movement and are asked to write about sexist advertising. Or, pretend you are the president of a major oil company asked to defend the high price of oil. Consider being someone in another time period, perhaps Abraham Lincoln, or someone with a different perspective from your own on things, someone living in Hiroshima at the time the bomb was dropped. Pulling yourself out of your usual perspective can help you think more about the subject than writing about the subject.

_____________

Pretend that you’re writing to a child, to a close friend, to a parent, to a person who sharply disagrees with you, to someone who’s new to the subject and needs to have you explain your paper’s topic slowly and clearly. Changing the audience can clarify your purpose. (Who am I writing to when I explain how to change the oil in a car? That guy down the hall who’s always asking everyone for help.) Changing the audience can also make you feel more comfortable and help you write more easily.

_____________

Talk into a recorder, imagining your audience sitting in chairs or standing in a group. Then, transcribe the recorded material. You’ll at least have some ideas down on paper to work with and move around.

____________

“Talk” the paper to someone — your teacher, a friend, a roommate, a tutor in the Writing Lab. Just pick someone who’s willing to give you fifteen to thirty minutes to talk about the topic and whose main aim is to help you start writing. Have the person take notes while you talk or record your conversation. Talking will be helpful because you’ll probably be more natural and spontaneous in speech than in writing. Your listener can ask questions and guide you as you speak, and you’ll feel more as though you’re telling someone about something than completing an assignment.

Reading

Task 1

Coping with Writing Anxiety

____________

Start writing at whatever point you like. If you want to begin in the middle, fine. Leave the introduction or first section until later. The reader will never know that you wrote the paper beginning with the main body. Besides, some writers routinely save the introduction until later when they have a clearer idea of what the main idea and purpose will be.

Music in My Life

High school can be a very stressful time in a teenager’s life. Music gives teens an outlet to express their emotions and comforts them when they feel no one (38)_____ how they feel. The beauty of music is that there is no single type of music.

My passion is for music that tells a story. I also love music that has a new sound or something that sounds classic and raw, like live performances using acoustic instruments. Music also has the power to express opinion. Opinions on politics, religion, and people can (39)_____ in some of my music, but the music I like most is free of any politics since I feel there is too much politics in everything else. Music should be a unique expression of an (40)_____ feelings and views on the world. I like being able to mix the past and the present. Bands from the past let me get an idea of (41)_____ life was like before I was born.

Music helps me and many other people my age cope with the daily stresses of high school and lets us (42)_____ the pressure from our peers. We can listen to some music in our rooms to escape from the world and to get over things like little fights with our parents.

Music affects every part of my life, the way I dress, my art, my language.

Music in My Life

High school can be a very stressful time in a teenager’s life. Music gives teens an outlet to express their emotions and comforts them when they feel no one (38)_____ how they feel. The beauty of music is that there is no single type of music.

My passion is for music that tells a story. I also love music that has a new sound or something that sounds classic and raw, like live performances using acoustic instruments. Music also has the power to express opinion. Opinions on politics, religion, and people can (39)_____ in some of my music, but the music I like most is free of any politics since I feel there is too much politics in everything else. Music should be a unique expression of an (40)_____ feelings and views on the world. I like being able to mix the past and the present. Bands from the past let me get an idea of (41)_____ life was like before I was born.

Music helps me and many other people my age cope with the daily stresses of high school and lets us (42)_____ the pressure from our peers. We can listen to some music in our rooms to escape from the world and to get over things like little fights with our parents.

Music affects every part of my life, the way I dress, my art, my language.

Music in My Life

High school can be a very stressful time in a teenager’s life. Music gives teens an outlet to express their emotions and comforts them when they feel no one (38)_____ how they feel. The beauty of music is that there is no single type of music.

My passion is for music that tells a story. I also love music that has a new sound or something that sounds classic and raw, like live performances using acoustic instruments. Music also has the power to express opinion. Opinions on politics, religion, and people can (39)_____ in some of my music, but the music I like most is free of any politics since I feel there is too much politics in everything else. Music should be a unique expression of an (40)_____ feelings and views on the world. I like being able to mix the past and the present. Bands from the past let me get an idea of (41)_____ life was like before I was born.

Music helps me and many other people my age cope with the daily stresses of high school and lets us (42)_____ the pressure from our peers. We can listen to some music in our rooms to escape from the world and to get over things like little fights with our parents.

Music affects every part of my life, the way I dress, my art, my language.