ENGLISH 10 FINAL EXAM

Name: _____________________________
Collection 1
1) Which sentence is true about the parts of a plot (think about the plot pyramid)?
a) A plot has four basic parts: characters, a setting, a conflict, and a
conclusion.
b) A plot has four basic parts: an exposition, an introduction, a
climax, and a resolution.
c) A plot has five basic parts: a situation, a conflict, complications, a
climax, and a resolution.
d) A plot has five basic parts: exposition, rising action, climax, falling
actions, and a resolution.
2) Which of the following is an example of setting?
a) Once my father and mother married, they moved onto the old
farm he had inherited but didnt care much for.
b) To enter out into that silence that was the city at eight oclock of a
misty evening in November
c) He walked like a man suddenly drunk.
d) He doesnt recognize many of them; most came on other boats.
3) What is the purpose of a flashback?
a) To deepen our understanding of the plot or characters by looking
back in time
b) To give clues about what will happen later in the plot
c) To create suspense
d) To keep the events moving in sequence
4) When you visualize, you are-a) summarizing the main idea of the story
b) building suspense
c) predicting what will happen next in the plot
d) imagining and picturing the events of the story in your mind
5) Which sentence describes an internal conflict?
a) ...he was tempted to go with her; it was not actually true that he
had to work tonight, though he very much wanted to.
b) His clothes are instantly wet, and the shock of the cold water all
over his body makes his heart go still for a moment.
c) It was while the two were in midair, their hands about to meet,
that lightning struck the main pole and sizzled down the guy wires
d) I had just found a door I could open when the dogs decided to
rush.
6) Which statement about chronological order is true?
a) The order of the events occurs in no logical order.
b) The order of the events is the order in which the events happen.
c) The order of the events goes from most important to least
important.
d) The order of events occurs in the past, then in the future, and then
back in the past.
Collection 2

7) What is an antagonist?
a) The main character in a story; the one who drives the action in the
plot
b) The character who stops the main character from getting what he
or she wants
c) The special qualities of a character
d) A description of the characters traits
8) A conflict is-a) the struggle at the heart of nearly every story
b) the reason a character acts the way he or she does
c) the most important quality of a character
d) a description of the characters traits
9) An intelligent guess you make based on evidence in the story is called a(n)-a) motivation
b) primary source
c) summary
d) inference
10) When the writer describes the characters traits in a straightforward manner it is-a) traits
b) motivation
c) direct characterization
d) indirect characterization
Collection 3
11) The person that tells the story, usually from his or her point of view, is called
a(n)-a) narrator
b) antagonist
c) direct characterization
d) motivation
12) I drove down the street in my new car is an example of-a) the first-person narrator
b) the third-person narrator
c) the omniscient narrator
d) drawing conclusions
13) The writers attitude toward the subject, the characters, or the audience is
called-a) genre
b) tone
c) predictions
d) theme
14) What is a writers voice?
a) the plot of the story that develops
b) indirect characterization
c) distinctive use of language and sound of the writer
d) visualizing and sensory details
15) Fiction and nonfiction are examples of-a) writers purpose

b) biographical approach
c) different genres
d) true stories
16) A narrator that plays no part in the story but can tell the reader what all the
characters are thinking and feelings is-a) a parable
b) magic realism
c) an omniscient narrator
d) an unreliable narrator
Collection 4
17) Persons, places, things, or events that stand for themselves and for something
beyond themselves are-a) omniscient narrators
b) symbols
c) generalizations
d) secondary sources
18) A situation in which the reader knows something that a character does not know
is-a) personal symbols
b) dramatic irony
c) verbal irony
d) allegory
19) A police station getting robbed or a fire station burning down is an example of-a) verbal irony
b) dramatic irony
c) situation irony
d) allegory
20) Which of the following could be an example of a primary source?
a) A newspaper article
b) An autobiography
c) An encyclopaedia
d) A textbook
Figurative Language
21) Time is money or You are my sunshine are examples of which type of figurative
language?
a) metaphor
b) symbol
c) onomatopoeia
d) alliteration

22) The bat to Batman is a-a) hyperbole

b) simile
c) symbol
d) metaphor
23) Giving human qualities to non-human things is-a) hyperbole

b) onomatopoeia
c) metaphor
d) personification
24) The only verdict is vengeance; a vendetta held as a votive, not in vain What
type of figurative language is being used?
a) simile
b) alliteration
c) onomatopoeia
d) personification
25) The sky was full of dancing stars or the fire swallowed the entire forest are
examples of-a) personification
b) symbol
c) metaphor
d) hyperbole
Vocabulary
26) Which word contains a prefix that means between?
a) Exhale
b) Hyperactive
c) International
d) Microorganism
27) Another word for great anger is-a) temperamental
b) wrath
c) abhor
d) chide
28) The author increased __________ in the plot by continuing to throw obstacles in
the main character's path.
a) aspects
b) credible
c) reveal
d) tension

29) The dialogue in a story can __________ a lot about a characters personality.
a) reveal
b) symbolize
c) evaluation
d) aspects
30) The world that Alyssa created in her book was so __________ that I thought it
was real.
a) tension
b) credible
c) omniscient
d) reveal

Reading Comprehension - Literature

The Leap
by Louise Erdrich

Build Background: Erdrichs story is about a woman who long ago performed with her husband in
a circus trapeze act. Circuses like the one in the story once traveled all over America and Europe. The
circus tents were set up in open areas of towns and cities. The woman in the story is now blind from
cataracts, a condition in which the lens of the eye thickens and that, if not treated, will cause
blindness.

My mother is the surviving half of a blindfold trapeze act, not a fact I think about much even now
that she is sightless, the result of encroaching and stubborn cataracts. She walks slowly through her house
here in New Hampshire, lightly touching her way along walls and running her hands over knickknacks,
books, the drift of a grown child's belongings and castoffs. She has never upset an object or as much as
brushed a magazine onto the floor. She has never lost her balance or bumped into a closet door left
carelessly open.
It has occurred to me that the catlike precision of her movements in old age might be the result of
her early training, but she shows so little of the drama or flair one might expect from a performer that I
tend to forget the Flying Avalons. She has kept no sequined costume, no photographs, no feathers or
posters from that part of her youth. I would, in fact, tend to think that all memory of double somersaults
and heart-stopping catches had left her arms and legs were it not for the fact that sometimes, as I sit
sewing in the room of the rebuilt house in which I slept as a child, I hear the crackle, catch a whiff of
smoke from the stove downstairs and suddenly the room goes dark, the stitches burn beneath my fingers,
and I am sewing with a needle of hot silver, a thread of fire.
I owe her my existence three times. The first was when she saved herself. In the town square a
replica tent pole, cracked and splintered, now stands cast in concrete. It commemorates the disaster that
put our town smack on the front page of the Boston and New York tabloids. It is from those old
newspapers, now historical records, that I get my information. Not from my mother, Anna of the Flying
Avalons, nor from any of her in-laws, nor certainly from the other half of her particular act, Harold
Avalon, her first husband. In one news account it says, The day was mildly overcast, but nothing in the
air or temperature gave any hint of the sudden force with which the deadly gale would strike.
I have lived in the West, where you can see the weather coming for miles, and it is true that out
here we are at something of a disadvantage. When extremes of temperature collide, a hot and cold front,
winds generate instantaneously behind a hill and crash upon you without warning. That, I think, was the
likely situation on that day in June. People probably commented on the pleasant air, grateful that no hot
sun beat upon the striped tent that stretched over the entire center green. They bought their tickets and
surrendered them in anticipation. They sat. They ate caramelized popcorn and roasted peanuts. There was
time, before the storm, for three acts. The White Arabians of Ali-Khazar rose on their hind legs and
waltzed. The Mysterious Bernie folded himself into a painted cracker tin, and the Lady of the Mists made
herself appear and disappear in surprising places. As the clouds gathered outside, unnoticed, the
ringmaster cracked his whip, shouted his introduction and pointed to the ceiling of the tent, where the
Flying Avalons were perched.
They loved to drop gracefully from nowhere, like two sparkling birds, and blow kisses as they
threw off their plumed helmets and high-collared capes. They laughed and flirted openly as they beat their
way up again on the trapeze bars. In the final vignette of their act, they actually would kiss in midair,
pausing, almost hovering as they swooped past one another. On the ground, between bows, Harry Avalon

would skip quickly to the front rows and point out the smear of my mother's lipstick, just off the edge of
his mouth. They made a romantic pair all right, especially in the blindfold sequence.
That afternoon, as the anticipation increased, as Mr. and Mrs. Avalon tied sparkling strips of cloth
onto each other's face and as they puckered their lips in mock kisses, lips destined never again to meet,
as one long breathless article put it, the wind rose, miles off, wrapped itself into a cone, and howled.
There came a rumble of electrical energy, drowned out by the sudden roll of drums. One detail not
mentioned by the press, perhaps unknownAnna was pregnant at the time, seven months and hardly
showing, her stomach muscles were that strong. It seems incredible that she would work high above the
ground when any fall could be so dangerous, but the explanationI know from watching her go blindis
that my mother lives comfortably in extreme elements. She is one with the constant dark now, just as the
air was her home, familiar to her, safe, before the storm that afternoon.
From opposite ends of the tent they waved, blind and smiling, to the crowd below. The ringmaster
removed his hat and called for silence, so that the two above could concentrate. They rubbed their hands
in chalky powder, then Harry launched himself and swung, once, twice, in huge calibrated beats across
space. He hung from his knees and on the third swing stretched wide his arms, held his hands out to
receive his pregnant wife as she dove from her shining bar.
It was while the two were in midair, their hands about to meet, that lightning struck the main pole
and sizzled down the guy wires, filling the air with a blue radiance that Harry Avalon must certainly have
seen through the cloth of his blindfold as the tent buckled and the edifice toppled him forward, the swing
continuing and not returning in its sweep, and Harry going down, down into the crowd with his last
thought, perhaps, just a prickle of surprise at his empty hands.
My mother once said that I'd be amazed at how many things a person can do within the act of
falling. Perhaps, at the time, she was teaching me to dive off a board at the town pool, for I associate the
idea with midair somersaults. But I also think she meant that even in that awful doomed second one could
think, for she certainly did. When her hands did not meet her husband's, my mother tore her blindfold
away. As he swept past her on the wrong side, she could have grasped his ankle, the toe-end of his tights,
and gone down clutching him. Instead, she changed direction. Her body twisted toward a heavy wire and
she managed to hang on to the braided metal, still hot from the lightning strike. Her palms were burned so
terribly that once healed they bore no lines, only the blank scar tissue of a quieter future. She was
lowered, gently, to the sawdust ring just underneath the dome of the canvas roof, which did not entirely
settle but was held up on one end and jabbed through, torn, and still on fire in places from the giant spark,
though rain and men's jackets soon put that out.
Three people died, but except for her hands my mother was not seriously harmed until an
overeager rescuer broke her arm in extricating her and also, in the process, collapsed a portion of the tent
bearing a huge buckle that knocked her unconscious. She was taken to the town hospital, and there she
must have hemorrhaged, for they kept her confined to her bed, a month and a half before her baby was
born without life.
Harry Avalon had wanted to be buried in the circus cemetery next to the original Avalon, his
uncle, so she sent him back with his brothers. The child, however, is buried around the corner, beyond this
house and just down the highway. Sometimes I used to walk there just to sit. She was a girl, but I rarely
thought of her as a sister or even as a separate person really. I suppose you could call it the egocentrism of
a child, of all young children, but I considered her a less finished version of myself.
When the snow falls, throwing shadows among the stones, I can easily pick hers out from the
road, for it is bigger than the others and in the shape of a lamb at rest, its legs curled beneath. The carved
lamb looms larger as the years pass, though it is probably only my eyes, the vision shifting, as what is

close to me blurs and distances sharpen. In odd moments, I think it is the edge drawing near, the edge of
everything, the unseen horizon we do not really speak of in the eastern woods. And it also seems to me,
although this is probably an idle fantasy, that the statue is growing more sharply etched, as if, instead of
weathering itself into a porous mass, it is hardening on the hillside with each snowfall, perfecting itself.
It was during her confinement in the hospital that my mother met my father. He was called in to
look at the set of her arm, which was complicated. He stayed, sitting at her bedside, for he was something
of an armchair traveler and had spent his war quietly, at an air force training grounds, where he became a
specialist in arms and legs broken during parachute training exercises. Anna Avalon had been to many of
the places he longed to visitVenice, Rome, Mexico, all through France and Spain. She had no family of
her own and was taken in by the Avalons, trained to perform from a very young age. They toured Europe
before the war, then based themselves in New York. She was illiterate.
It was in the hospital that she finally learned to read and write, as a way of overcoming the
boredom and depression of those weeks, and it was my father who insisted on teaching her. In return for
stories of' her adventures, he graded her first exercises. He bought her her first book, and over her hold
letters, which the pale guides of the penmanship pads could not contain, they fell in love.
I wonder if my father calculated the exchange offered: one form of flying for another. For after
that, and for as long as I can remember, my mother has never been without a book. Until now, that is, and
it remains the greatest difficulty of her blindness. Since my father's recent death, there is no one to read to
her, which is why I returned, in fact, from my failed life where the land is flat. I came home to read to my
mother, to read out loud, read long into the dark if I must, to read all night.
Once my father and mother married, they moved onto the old farm he had inherited but didn't
care much for. Though he'd been thinking of moving to a larger city, he settled down and broadened his
practice in this valley. It still seems odd to me, when they could have gone anywhere else, that they chose
to stay in the town where the disaster had occurred, and which my father in the first place had found so
constricting. It was my mother who insisted upon it, after her child did not survive. And then, too, she
loved the sagging farmhouse with its scrap of what was left of a vast acreage of woods and hidden hay
fields that stretched to the game park.
I owe my existence, the second time then, to the two of them and the hospital that brought them
together. That is the debt we take for granted since none of us asks for life. It is only once we have it that
we hang on so dearly.
I was seven the year the house caught fire, probably from standing ash. It can rekindle, and my
father, forgetful around the house and perpetually exhausted from night hours on call, often emptied what
he thought were ashes from cold stoves into wooden or cardboard containers. The fire could have started
from a flaming box, or perhaps a buildup of creosote inside the chimney was the culprit. it started right
around the stove, and the heart of the house was gutted. The baby-sitter, fallen asleep in my father's den
on the first floor, woke to find the stairway to my upstairs room cut off by flames. She used the phone,
then ran outside to stand beneath my window.
When my parents arrived, the town volunteers had drawn water from the fire pond and were
spraying the outside of the house, preparing to go inside after me, not knowing at the time that there was
only one staircase and that it was lost. On the other side of the house, the superannuated extension ladder
broke in half. Perhaps the clatter of it falling against the walls woke me, for I'd been asleep up to that
point.
As soon as I awakened, in the small room that I now use for sewing, I smelled the smoke. I
followed things by the letter then, was good at memorizing instructions, and so I did exactly what was

taught in the second-grade home fire drill. I got up, I touched the back of my door before opening it.
Finding it hot, I left it closed and stuffed my rolled-up rug beneath the crack. I did not hide under my bed
or crawl into my closet. I put on my flannel robe, and then I sat down to wait.
Outside, my mother stood below my dark window and saw clearly that there was no rescue.
Flames had pierced one side wall, and the glare of the fire lighted the massive limbs and trunk of the
vigorous old elm that had probably been planted the year the house was built, a hundred years ago at
least. No leaf touched the wall, and just one thin branch scraped the roof. From below, it looked as though
even a squirrel would have had trouble jumping from the tree onto the house, for the breadth of that small
branch was no bigger than my mother's wrist.
Standing there, beside Father, who was preparing to rush back around to the front of the house,
my mother asked him to unzip her dress. When he wouldn't be bothered, she made him understand. He
couldn't make his hands work, so she finally tore it off and stood there in her pearls and stockings. She
directed one of the men to lean the broken half of the extension ladder up against the trunk of the tree. In
surprise, he complied. She ascended. She vanished. Then she could be seen among the leafless branches
of late November as she made her way up and, along her stomach, inched the length of a bough that
curved above the branch that brushed the roof.
Once there, swaying, she stood and balanced. There were plenty of people in the crowd and many
who still remember, or think they do, my mother's leap through the ice-dark air toward that thinnest
extension, and how she broke the branch falling so that it cracked in her hands, cracked louder than the
flames as she vaulted with it toward the edge of the roof, and how it hurtled down end over end without
her, and their eyes went up, again, to see where she had flown.
I didn't see her leap through air, only heard the sudden thump and looked out my window. She
was hanging by the backs of her heels from the new gutter we had put in that year, and she was smiling. I
was not surprised to see her, she was so matter-of-fact. She tapped on the window. I remember how she
did it, too. It was the friendliest tap, a bit tentative, as if she was afraid she had arrived too early at a
friend's house. Then she gestured at the latch, and when I opened the window she told me to raise it wider
and prop it up with the stick so it wouldn't crush her fingers. She swung down, caught the ledge, and
crawled through the opening. Once she was in my room, I realized she had on only underclothing, a bra
of the heavy stitched cotton women used to wear and step-in, lace-trimmed drawers. I remember feeling
light-headed, of course, terribly relieved, and then embarrassed for her to be seen by the crowd undressed.
I was still embarrassed as we flew out the window, toward earth, me in her lap, her toes pointed as we
skimmed toward the painted target of the fire fighter's net.
I know that she's right. I knew it even then. As you fall there is time to think. Curled as I was,
against her stomach, I was not startled by the cries of the crowd or the looming faces. The wind roared
and heat its hot breath at our back, the flames whistled. I slowly wondered what would happen if we
missed the circle or bounced out of it. Then I wrapped my hands around my mother's hands. I felt the
brush of her lips and heard the beat of her heart in my ears, loud as thunder, long as the roll of drums.
31) What was the mothers job when she was married to her first husband?
a) Nurse
b) Seamstress
c) Journalist
d) Trapeze artist
32) When the narrator says that her mother has never...bumped into a closet door
left carelessly open, the narrator is referring to the fact that-a) the narrators mother is unable to walk
b) the narrators closet doors are always closed

c) the narrators mother is blind but moves confidently

d) the narrators father like to play practical jokes
33) Why has the narrator returned to her mothers house?
a) The narrators mother needs someone to read to her.
b) The narrators marriage has recently broken up.
c) The narrator has not been able to earn a living.
d) The narrators mother needs help going up and down the stairs.
34) I owe her my existence three times, the narrator says. Which of the following is
one of those three times?
a) The time that her mother saved her from drowning
b) The time that her mother and the Avalons toured Europe
c) The time that her mother rescued her from a fire
d) The time that the narrators sister died
35) The narrators mother deals with the past by-a) keeping old photographs, posters, and clippings in her house
b) often telling highly exaggerated stories about her youth
c) hardly talking about it and keeping very few souvenirs
d) still seeming to think she is living in the time she was young
36) Which event in the story is told as a flashback?
a) The fire in the narrators house
b) The narrators visiting her half-sisters grave
c) The narrator sewing in her childhood bedroom
d) The mother walking in her house
37) Which word is similar in meaning to constricting?
a) widening
b) releasing
c) expanding
d) tightening
38) Which word is similar in meaning to generate?
a) find
b) enlarge
c) create
d) purchase
Reading Comprehension - Informational

from In the Shadow of Man

by Jane Goodall

Build Background: Jane Goodall is known for her detailed observations of chimpanzees in their
natural environment. Between 1960 and 1975, Goodall observed chimpanzee behavior in the Gombe
Stream Game Reserve in Tanzania. Her research corrected several misunderstandings about
chimpanzees. As this selection opens, Goodall has established a camp in the Mlinda Valley in what is
now the Gombe Stream National Park. She has climbed what is called the Peak above the valley in
order to observe chimpanzees in their natural habitat.

As the weeks went by the chimpanzees became less and less afraid. Quite often when I was on
one of my food-collecting expeditions I came across chimpanzees unexpectedly, and after a time I found
that some of them would tolerate my presence provided they were in fairly thick forest and I sat still and
did not try to move closer than sixty to eighty yards. And so, during my second month of watching from
the Peak, when I saw a group settle down to feed I sometimes moved closer and was thus able to make
more detailed observations.

It was at this time that I began to recognize a number of different individuals. As soon as I was
sure of knowing a chimpanzee if I saw it again, I named it. Some scientists feel that animals should be
labeled by numbers that to name them is anthropomorphic but I have always been interested in the
differences between individuals, and a name is not only more individual than a number but also far easier
to remember. Most names were simply those which, for some reason or other, seemed to suit the
individuals to whom I attached them. A few chimps were named because some facial expression or
mannerism reminded me of human acquaintances.
The easiest individual to recognize was old Mr. McGregor. The crown of his head, his neck, and
his shoulders were almost entirely devoid of hair, but a slight frill remained around his head rather like a
monks tonsure. He was an old male perhaps between thirty and forty years of age (chimpanzees in
captivity can live more than fifty years). During the early months of my acquaintance with him, Mr.
McGregor was somewhat belligerent. If I accidentally came across him at close quarters he would
threaten me with an upward and backward jerk of his head and a shaking of branches before climbing
down and vanishing from my sight. He reminded me, for some reason, of Beatrix Potters old gardener in
The Tale of Peter Rabbit.
Ancient Flo with her deformed, bulbous nose and ragged ears was equally easy to recognize. Her
youngest offspring at that time were two-year-old Fifi, who still rode everywhere on her mothers back,
and her juvenile son, Figan, who was always to be seen wandering around with his mother and little sister.
He was then about seven years old; it was approximately a year before he would attain puberty. Flo often
traveled with another old mother, Olly. Ollys long face was also distinctive; the fluff of hair on the back
of her head though no other feature reminded me of my aunt, Olwen. Olly, like Flo, was accompanied
by two children, a daughter younger than Fifi, and an adolescent son about a year older than Figan.
Then there was William, who, I am certain, must have been Ollys blood brother. I never saw any
special signs of friendship between them, but their faces were amazingly alike. They both had long upper
lips that wobbled when they suddenly turned their heads. William had the added distinction of several
thin, deeply etched scar marks running down his upper lip from his nose.
Two of the other chimpanzees I knew well by sight at that time were David Greybeard and
Goliath. Like David and Goliath in the Bible, these two individuals were closely associated in my mind
because they were very often together. Goliath, even in those days of his prime, was not a giant, but he
had a splendid physique and the springy movements of an athlete. He probably weighed about one
hundred pounds. David Graybeard was less afraid of me from the start than were any of the other chimps
I was always pleased when I picked out his handsome face and well-marked silvery beard in a
chimpanzee group, for with David to calm the others, I had a better chance of approaching to observe
them more closely.
Before the end of my trial period in the field I made two really exciting discoveries discoveries
that made the previous months of frustration well worth while. And for both of them I had David
Graybeard to thank.
One day I arrived on the Peak and found a small group of chimps just below me in the upper
branches of a thick tree. As I watched I saw that one of them was holding a pink-looking object from
which he was from time to time pulling pieces with his teeth. There was a female and a youngster and
they were both reaching out toward the male, their hands actually touching his mouth. Presently the
female picked up a piece of the pink thing and put it to her mouth: it was at this moment that I realized the
chimps were eating meat.
After each bite of meat the male picked off some leaves with his lips and chewed them with the
flesh. Often, when he had chewed for several minutes on this leafy wad, he spat out the remains into the

waiting hands of the female. Suddenly he dropped a small piece of meat, and like a flash the youngster
swung after it to the ground. Even as he reached to pick it up the undergrowth exploded and an adult
bushpig charged toward him. Screaming, the juvenile leaped back into the tree. The pig remained in the
open, snorting and moving backward and forward. Soon I made out the shapes of three small striped
piglets. Obviously the chimps were eating a baby pig. The size was right and later, when I realized that
the male was David Graybeard, I moved closer and saw that he was indeed eating a piglet.
For three hours I watched the chimps feeding. David occasionally let the female bite pieces from
the carcass and once he actually detached a small piece of flesh and placed it in her outstretched hand.
When he finally climbed down there was still meat left on the carcass; he carried it away in one hand,
followed by the others.
Of course I was not sure, then, that David Graybeard had caught the pig himself, but even so, it
was tremendously exciting to know that these chimpanzees actually ate meat. Previously scientists had
believed that although these apes might occasionally supplement their diet with a few insects or small
rodents and the like they were primarily vegetarians and fruit eaters. No one had suspected that they
might hunt larger mammals.
It was within two weeks of this observation that I saw something that excited me even more. By
then it was October and the short rains had begun. The blackened slopes were softened by feather new
grass shoots and in some places the ground was carpeted by a variety of flowers. The Chimpanzees
Spring, I called it. I had had a frustrating morning, tramping up and down three valleys with never a sign
or sound of a chimpanzee. Hauling myself up the steep slope of Mlinda Valley I headed for the Peak, not
only weary but soaking wet from crawling through dense undergrowth. Suddenly I stopped, for I saw a
slight movement in the long grass about sixty yards away. Quickly focusing my binoculars I saw that it
was a single chimpanzee, and just then he turned in my direction. I recognized David Graybeard.
Cautiously I moved around so that I could see what he was doing. He was squatting beside the
red earth mound of a termite nest, and as I watched I saw him carefully push a long grass stem down into
a hole in the mound. After a moment he withdrew it and picked something from the end with his mouth. I
was too far away to make out what he was eating, but it was obvious that he was actually using a grass
stem as a tool.
I knew that on two occasions casual observers in West Africa had seen chimpanzees using objects
as tools: one had broken open palm-nut kernels by using a rock as a hammer, and a group of chimps had
been observed pushing sticks into an underground bees nest and licking off the honey. Somehow I had
never dreamed of seeing anything so exciting myself.
For an hour David feasted at the termite mound and then he wandered slowly away. When I was
sure he had gone I went over to examine the mound. I found a few crushed insects strewn about, and a
swarm of worker termites sealing the entrances of the nest passages into which David had obviously been
poking his stems. I picked up one of his discarded tools and carefully pushed it into a hole myself.
Immediately I felt the pull of several termites as they seized the grass, and when I pulled it out there were
a number of worker termites and a few soldiers, with big red heads, clinging on with their mandibles.
There they remained, sticking out at right angles to the stem with their legs waving in the air.
Before I left I trampled down some of the tall dry grass and constructed a rough hide just a few
palm fronds leaned up against the low branch of a tree and tied together at the top. I planned to wait there
the next day. But it was another week before I was able to watch a chimpanzee fishing for termites
again. Twice chimps arrived, but each time they saw me and moved off immediately. Once a swarm of
fertile winged termites the princes and princesses, as they are called flew off on their nuptial flight,
their huge white wings fluttering frantically as they carried the insects higher and higher. Later I realized

that it is at this time of year, during the short rains, when the worker termites extend the passages of the
nest to the surface, preparing for these emigrations. Several such swarms emerge between October and
January. It is primarily during these months that the chimpanzees feed on termites.
On the eighth day of my watch David Graybeard arrived again, together with Goliath, and the
pair worked there for two hours. I could see much better: I observed how they scratched open the sealedover passage entrances with a thumb or forefinger. I watched how they bit the ends off their tools when
they became bent, or used the other end, or discarded them in favor of new ones. Goliath once moved at
least fifteen yards from the heap to select a firm-looking piece of vine, and both males often picked three
or four stems while they were collecting tools, and put the spares beside them on the ground until they
wanted them.
Most exciting of all, on several occasions they picked small leafy twigs and prepared them for use
by stripping off the leaves. This was the first recorded example of a wild animal not merely using an
object as a tool, but actually modifying an object and thus showing the crude beginnings of toolmaking.
Previously man had been regarded as the only tool-making animal. Indeed, one of the clauses
commonly accepted in the definition of man was that he was a creature who made tools to a regular and
set pattern. The chimpanzees, obviously, had not made tools to any set pattern. Nevertheless, my early
observations of their primitive toolmaking abilities convinced a number of scientists that it was necessary
to redefine man in a more complex manner than before. Or else, as Louis Leakey put it, we should by
definition have to accept the chimpanzee as Man.
I sent telegrams to Louis about both of my new observations the meateating and the toolmaking
and he was of course wildly enthusiastic. In fact, I believe that the news was helpful to him in his efforts
to find further financial support for my work. It was not long afterward when he wrote to tell me that the
National Geographic Society in the United States had agreed to grant funds for another years research.
39) What is the main idea of the excerpt from In the Shadow of Man?
a) Goodall enjoyed watching chimpanzees in the wild.
b) Chimpanzees are more like humans than previously thought.
c) Chimpanzees like to eat meat and termites.
d) Chimpanzees are all alike.
40) Discovering that chimpanzees make tools is important because-a) it shows that some chimpanzees are smarter than others
b) it gave Goodall a reason to stay in Tanzania
c) it challenged the definition of what is human
d) it shows how the chimpanzees fed themselves in the winter
months
41) Goodall named the chimpanzees because-a) names were more scientific than numbers
b) she was interested in the differences among individuals
c) the chimpanzees reminded her of her family and friends
d) the chimpanzees allowed her to watch them when she used their
names
42) What details support the idea that the chimpanzees were making tools?
a) Goodall observed them selecting materials to use for tools.
b) Goodall observed them modifying an object for use as a tool.
c) Goodall observed them placing spare tools on the ground nearby.
d) all of the above
43) Why was Goodall surprised to observe the chimpanzees eating the pig?

a) Scientists had believed that chimps were vegetarians.

b) It had been thought that chimps ate only rodents.
c) Scientists had thought the chimps were not capable of catching a
pig.
d) Chimpanzees and pigs were usually friendly.
44) Devoid means
a) lacking something
b) accounted for
c) filled up
d) starting over
45) A belligerent person is
a) uncertain
b) aggressive
c) kind hearted
d) self-centered

Bonus Points - Brain Teasers (Relax, dont trust your brain, and take a break once in awhile)
46) Can you tell me an English word which contains all of the five vowels (a, e, i, o,
u)? Hint: it is related to what you are gaining while you are at school.
________________________________
47) What is greater than God, more evil than the devil, the poor have it, the rich need
it, and if you eat it, youll die?
________________________________
48) In a lake, there is a patch of lily pads. Every day, the patch doubles in size. If it
takes 48 days for the patch to cover the entire lake, how long would it take for the patch
to cover half the lake?
________________________________
49) The below is a number puzzle. It should be read left to right, top to bottom. What
are the next two rows of numbers? (Hint: The secret is to say what you see on each line
(quantity and number i.e. the first line is one one, the second line is two ones) and what
you see becomes the next line)
1
11
21
1211
111221
??????
????????
________________________________
50) Each question below contains all the initials of words that will make it a correct
phrase. Find the missing words.
26 L of the A ________________________________

13 S in the U S F ________________________________
29 D in F in a L Y ________________________________