1.23.17+and+1.24.17

2) You'll be given a passage from //Night// and will be expected to annotate it fully (identify devices and make comments on their meaning/impact), create a theme in response to it, and to utilize it to form a properly integrated quote using TLC (tag, lead, citation).
 * Finals information:** I'll give you a more detailed study guide next class, but ultimately, your final will sample from all the texts we've read this year. It will be in two parts. 1) You'll be given direct quotes from many of them and asked to identify devices the authors use, and analyze their effect on the reader.

The final is meant to test skills we've practiced all semester. To prepare, review your literary devices (remember all the notes in your journal?), theme creation, TLC formation, and unpacking quotes. While each quote from the texts we've read this year will be identified, it would be wise to glance back over the poems, essays, and short stories we've read to see the annotations you made and remember major devices.

Here's a list of the texts we've read that might be used on the final: "Dark They Were, and Golden-Eyed" by Ray Bradbury "Black Men in Public Space" by Brent Staples "Recitatif" by Toni Morrison "Struggle: The People of Yesteryear" by Jozy Belay "Museum Indians" by Susan Power "Evolution" by Sherman Alexie "To Live in the Borderlands Means You" by Gloria Anzaldua "Ritchie Valens" by Myrlin Hepworth //Night// by Elie Wiesel

https://docs.google.com/document/d/1IvXAvmyXjZVnPBwVR2uBHFc3rGBHCsIcvDnvABv3R4w/edit?usp=sharing
 * Letter Assignment: A draft of this will be due in class on Wednesday/Thursday. The final draft is due the day of your final for this class.**

Mr. Parness' sample: https://docs.google.com/document/d/1xrFRYmdzU9fCyDEBWoih8OEW6P_CJoi3NVL9qxZKfYU/edit?usp=sharing

Ms. Wendel's sample: https://docs.google.com/a/apps4pps.net/document/d/1rhpw7R8azG9eg7UYtmZEOFNjb4MnP5rMWAxurHNg0ng/edit?usp=sharing

Close reading of passage on pg. 34 "Never shall I forget . . .Never." --repetition of "never shall I forget", night, faith being affected violently, alliteration of "s" sounds, imagery (silent sky, murdered God, dreams to ashes, consumed faith, one long night, faces of small children, smoke/fire, ashes)
 * Review of Ch. 2-3 of //Night//**

Small group work on key passages from Ch. 2-3:

__Passage 1__ On the third night, as we were sleeping, some of us sitting, huddled against each other, some of us standing, a piercing cry broke the silence:

“Fire! I see a fire! I see a fire!” There was a moment of panic. Who had screamed? It was Mrs. Schacter. Standing in the middle of the car, in the faint light filtering through the windows, she looked like a withered tree in a field of wheat. She was howling, pointing through the window: “Look! Look at this fire! This terrible fire! Have mercy on me!” Some pressed against the bars to see. There was nothing. Only the darkness of night. (24-25)

__Passage 2__ The Gypsy stared at him for a long time, from head to toe. As if he wished to ascertain that the person addressing him was actually a creature of flesh and bone, a human being with a body and a belly. Then, as if waking from a deep sleep, he slapped my father with such force that he fell down and then crawled back to his place on all fours.

I stood petrified. What had happened to me? My father had just been struck, in front of me, and I had not even blinked. I had watched and kept silent. Only yesterday, I would have dug my nails into this criminal’s flesh. Had I changed that much? So fast? Remorse began to gnaw at me. All I could think was: I shall never forgive them for this. (39)

__Passage 3__ “Another inmate appeared, unleashing a stream of invectives: “Sons of bitches, why have you come here? Tell me, why?” Someone dared to reply: “What do you think? That we came here of our own free will? That we asked to come here?” The other seemed ready to kill him: “Shut up, you moron, or I’ll tear you to pieces! You should have hanged yourselves rather than come here. Didn’t you know what was in store for you here in Auschwitz? You didn’t know? In 1944?” True. We didn’t know. Nobody had told us. He couldn’t believe his ears. His tone became even harsher: “Over there. Do you see the chimney over there? Do you see it? And the flames, do you see them?” (Yes, we saw the flames.) “Over there, that’s where they will take you. Over there will be your grave. You still don’t understand? You sons of bitches. Don’t you understand anything? You will be burned! Burned to a cinder! Turned into ashes!” His anger changed into fury. We stood stunned, petrified. Could this be just a nightmare? An unimaginable nightmare?” (pg. 30-31)

__Passage 4__ “Everybody around us was weeping. Someone began to recite the Kaddish, the prayer for the dead. I don’t know whether, during the history of the Jewish people, men have ever before recited Kaddish for themselves. “Yisgadal, veyiskadash, shmey raba...May His name be celebrated and sanctified….” whispered my father. For the first time, I felt anger rising within me. Why should I sanctify His name? The Almighty, the eternal and the terrible Master of the Universe, chose to be silent. What was there to thank Him for? We continued our march. We were coming closer and closer to the pit, from which an infernal heat was rising. Twenty more steps. If I was going to kill myself, this was the time. Our column had only some fifteen steps to go. I bit my lips so that my father would not hear my teeth chattering. Ten more steps. Eight. Seven. We were walking slowly, as one follows a hearse, our own funeral procession. Only four more steps. Three. There it was now, very close to us, the pit and its flames. I gathered all that remained of my strength in order to break rank and throw myself onto the barbed wire. Deep down, I was saying good-bye to my father, to the whole universe, and against my will, I found myself whispering the words “Yisgadal, veyiskadash, shmey raba...May His name be exhalted and sanctified…” My heart was about to burst. There. I was face-to-face with the Angel of Death… No. Two steps from the pit, we were ordered to turn left and herded into the barracks. I squeezed my father’s hand. He said: “Do you remember Ms. Schacter, in the train? (pg. 33)

__Passage 5__ And there I was, on the sidewalk, watching them file past, unable to move. Here came Chief Rabbi, hunched over, his face strange looking without a beard, a bundle on his back. His very presence in the procession was enough to make the scene seem surreal. It was like a page torn from a book, a historical novel, perhaps, dealing with the captivity in Babylon or the Spanish Inquisition. They passed me by, one after the other, my teachers, my friends, the others, some of whom I had once feared, some of whom I had found ridiculous, all those whose lives I had shared for years. There they went, defeated, their bundles, their lives in tow, having left behind their homes, their childhood. They passed me by, like beaten dogs, with never a glance in my direction. They must have envied me. The procession disappeared around the corner. A few steps more and they were beyond the ghetto walls. The street resembled fairgrounds deserted in haste. There was a little of everything: suitcases, briefcases, bags, knives, dishes, banknotes, papers, faded portraits. All the things one planned to take along and finally left behind. They had ceased to matter. Open rooms everywhere. Gaping doors and windows looked out into the void. It all belonged to everyone since it no longer belonged to anyone. It was there for the taking. An open tomb. A summer sun. (pg. 17)

__Passage 6__ “Comrades you are now in the concentration camp Auschwitz. Ahead of you lies a long road paved with suffering. Don’t lose hope. You have already eluded the worst danger: the selection. Therefore, muster your strength and keep your faith. We shall all see the day of liberation. Have faith in life, a thousand times faith. By driving out despair, you will move away from death. Hell does not last forever...And now, here is a prayer, or rather a piece of advice: let there be camaraderie among you. We are all brothers and share the same fate. The same smoke hovers over all our heads. Help each other. That is the only way to survive.” (pg. 41)

__Passage 7__ “Hey kid, how old are you?” The man interrogating me was an inmate. I could not see his face, but his voice was weary and warm. “Fifteen.” “No. You’re eighteen.” “But I’m not.” I said. “I’m fifteen.” “Fool. Listen to what I say” Then he asked my father, who answered: “I’m fifty.” “No.” The man now sounded angry. “Not fifty. You’re forty. Do you hear? Eighteen and forty.” (30)

In no time, I stood before him. “Your age?” he asked, perhaps trying to sound paternal. “I’m eighteen.” My voice was trembling. “In good health?” “Yes.” “Your profession?” Tell him that I was a student? “Farmer,” I heard myself saying. (31-32)

He told us that he had been deported in 1942. He said, “I heard people say that a transport had arrived from your region and I came to look for you. I thought you might have some news of Reizel and my two small boys who stayed in Antwerp…” I knew about them...Since 1940, my mother had not received a single letter from them. But I lied: “Yes, my mother did hear from them. Reizel is fine. So are the children…” He was weeping with joy. He would have liked to stay longer, to learn more details, to soak up the good news, but an SS was heading in our direction and he had to go, telling us that he would come back the next day (43-44)

“The only thing that keeps me alive,” he kept saying, “is to know that Reizel and the little ones are still alive. Were it not for them, I would give up” One evening, he came to see us, his face radiant. “A transport just arrived from Antwerp. I shall go to see them tomorrow. Surely they will have news…” He left.

We never saw him again. He had been given the news. The real news. (45)

HW: Perspective Letter Draft due next class.