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Connor pulls me back and points at a sign that says Danger – Do Not Enter Connor pulls me back and points at a sign that says Danger – Do Not Enter

Connor pulls me back and points at a sign that says Danger – Do Not Enter - PowerPoint Presentation

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Uploaded On 2019-11-07

Connor pulls me back and points at a sign that says Danger – Do Not Enter - PPT Presentation

Connor pulls me back and points at a sign that says Danger Do Not Enter We cant go in there Izzy Connor says Mum will kill us if she finds out Well shes not going to know and youre not going to tell her I say She wont be back from work until six w ID: 764198

work mirror connor alex mirror work alex connor bike ran stopped long hallway white market boy mother reading snow

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Connor pulls me back and points at a sign that says Danger – Do Not Enter .“We can’t go in there, Izzy,” Connor says. “Mum will kill us if she finds out.”“Well, she’s not going to know and you’re not going to tell her,” I say. “She won’t be back from work until six, which is why we’re stuck with you.”“I’m not going in there,” he says. He folds his arms and glares at me to show me he means it.“Well, I can always take you home,” I say.Asha digs into her bag. “You can have my crisps,” she says to Connor, and she holds the crisp packet up where he can’t get it. She’s known him all his life, and sometimes I think she knows him better than I do. 1 Connecting the clues

Depends on working memory Reading and re-reading with sufficient speed and accuracy (fluency). Easier on shorter pieces. Annotate - use text marking to add notes and show links.Summarise and reflect regularly – “What do we know so far?” “How does this sentence link back to something we’ve heard before?”Skim-reading skills to track backConstant ‘comprehension monitoring’ and clarifying. Making Connections 2

3 Which questions are worth asking? It was dusk – winter dusk. Snow lay white and shining over the pleated hills, and icicles hung from the forest trees. Snow lay piled on the dark road across Willoughby Wold, but from dawn men had been clearing it with brooms and shovels. There were hundreds of them at work, wrapped in sacking because of the bitter cold, and keeping together in groups for fear of the wolves, grown savage and reckless from hunger. Explain why the author repeats ‘lay’. What is a broom? What has just happened? Explain how the men might be feeling and give evidence. What does the word ‘reckless’ suggest? Invent your own question.

About a hundred yards beyond the level crossing, Jake had to stop. He propped the bike against a wall by a dilapidated house. Like the house, the bike was a wreck. Its beautiful metallic paintwork was dented and scratched; its front wheel badly misshapen. The shattered lights were useless and the gears, jammed through the spokes of the rear wheel, made it impossible to ride. Jake was reluctant to leave the bike but there was no way he could carry it any further. He stood there, tears in his eyes, wondering how he would get home and what his father would say. Jake’s Bike4

Once again, wolves ran through her sleep, slinking through snow blind forests. She woke suddenly from one of these dreams to find that the train had stopped with a jerk. “ Oh! What is it? Where are we? ” she exclaimed before she could stop herself.“No need to alarm yourself, Miss,” said her companion, staring out of the black square of window. 5

The mirror hung by the stairs in Aunt Joanna’s hallway. It was tall and wide, with a gold frame full of curling leaves, and scrolls, and fat baby angels, and baskets of flowers, and twiddles. And once, when Alex Pilgrim was seven years old, he had looked into the mirror and… …another boy had looked back. The boy in the mirror was Alex’s age, or perhaps a little older. He had light-brown hair and a sturdy sort of face. This boy was brushing his hair in the mirror, rather hurriedly, as though he would much rather be doing something else. 6

As Alex watched, he turned his head sideways and yelled at somebody out of sight. Alex couldn’t hear what he said, but it sounded impatient: “I’m doing it!” perhaps, or “I’m coming!” Then he put the hairbrush down and ran out of the frame. Alex stayed by the mirror. It still showed Aunt Joanna’s hallway, but nothing in the hallway was quite as it ought to be. The walls were papered with yellow-and-green-striped wallpaper, and there was a large green plant he had never seen before and a white front door with coloured glass above the sill. 7

It felt very strange not to see his own face looking back at him. He put out a hand, and there was a sort of ripple in the reflection. When the picture settled, there he was as usual: small, fair-haired, and rather worried-looking. There was the ordinary cream wall behind him. There was the ordinary brown door. Everything just as it always was.8

Predict: “There’s a letter for you.”“For me?” Jackson was pleased. He didn’t get that much mail.“Where?”“On the coffee table. ” The envelope was pink. There were yellow roses on the flap. His name and address were in pencil.There was nothing to indicate danger. “ Who’s it from? ” his mother asked.“Well, let me open it.”He lifted the flap, took out the sheet of paper, and unfolded it. There was only one sentence.He read it and stopped breathing.“Keep away Cracker, or he’ll hurt you.” 9

10 I remember the worst day ever, when my mother bathed me and dressed me in my napkin and my petticoat and a little white gown she had stitched herself. She wrapped me in a crocheted shawl and carried me outside. She took me on a long, long journey. I’m sure I remember the roar and whistle of a train. Then I think we took a cab because I cried at the strange bumping and the clack of the horses’ hooves. She held me tighter, rocking me in her arms, and crying too.

11 Then the bump-clack stopped and my mother stayed crouching inside, shaking, so that I shook too. The cabman shouted at her and she gave me one last desperate kiss.‘I will always love you’, she whispered right into my ear. Then she clambered out of the cab, clutching me close. She said a few words to the cabman and then walked over to a tall gateway. She murmured to the gatekeeper, so softly that she had to repeat herself. Then the gate creaked open and we stepped inside. There must have been other mothers, other infants, because I heard wailing all around us.

The peculiars in the village of Swampmuck lived very modestly. They were farmers, and though they didn’t own fancy things and lived in flimsy houses made of reeds, they were healthy and joyful and wanted for little. Food grew bountifully in their gardens, clean water ran in the streams, and even their humble homes seemed like luxuries because the weather in Swampmuck was so fair, and the villagers were so devoted to their work that many, after a long day of mucking, would simply lie down and sleep in their swamps.12

Harvest was their favourite time of year. Working round the clock, they gathered the best weeds that had grown in the swamp that season, bundled them onto donkey carts, and drove their bounty to the market town of Chipping Whippet, a five days’ ride, to sell what they could. It was difficult work. The swampweed was rough and tore their hands. The donkeys were ill-tempered and liked to bite. The road to market was pitted with holes and plagued by thieves. There were often grievous accidents, such as when Farmer Pullman, in a fit of overzealous harvesting, accidentally scythed off his neighbour's leg. The neighbour, Farmer Hayworth, was understandably upset, but the villagers were such agreeable people that all was soon forgiven. The money they earned at market was paltry but enough to buy necessities and some rations of goat-rump besides, and with that rare treat as their centerpiece they threw a raucous festival that went on for days.13