9th-Eng, SAT-2 (Nov 2022) Ans Key

Student Assessment-(SAT-2) -November 2022 

Class-9 Subject -English 

Instructions:-(i) All questions are compulsory. Marks: 20 (ii) Question no. 1 to-1 O carry 1 mark each. Question no.10 to 12 carry 2 marks each .Question no. 13 to 14 carry 3 marks each. 

{1-5) Mark (v') on the correct answer. 

1 . In the poem ' The Snake Trying', in poet's views, the snakes are __ _ 

a. harmful to us 

c. enemy to us 

b. not harmful to us 

d. None of the above 

2. Whom did the author present the bear as a gift to? (The Bond of Love) 

a. his-friend 

c. his parents 

b. his children 

d. his wife 

3. The river flows _________ the ocean.( Preposition) 

a. to 

b. into 

C. in 

d. from 

4. What is the theme of the poem? (The Snake Trying) 

a. stop cruelty towards animals 

b. hate animals 

c. be away from animals 

d. animals are dangerous 

5. My friend Rohan met me ____ 9 o'clock in the morning.( Preposition) 

a. in 

b. at 

c. for

d. from 

(6-10) Do as Directed: 

6. We ........be obedient to our parents. (Fill in the blank with suitable modal) 

Ans. must

7. ....... I have your pen please? (Fill in the blank with suitable modal)

Ans. May

8. You should pack an umbrella, it looks it .........rain. (Fill in the blank with suitable modal) 

Ans. may

9. How do the trees die? (On Killing a Tree) 

Ans. By pulling out its root

10. What does the author notice one Sunday afternoon? (A House is not a home)

Ans. Smoke pouring in through the ceiling

(11-12) Answer these questions in about 20-30 words each. 

11. What "horrible idea" occurred to Jerome a little later? (Packing) 

Ans. The horrible idea that occurred to Jerome a little later was that he was not sure whether he had packed his toothbrush or not. 

12. Why is Bryson's finger bleeding? What is his wife's reaction? (The Accidental Tourist)

Ans. His finger is hurt by getting stuck in the zip of his bag. His wife is astonished by the way he has created a mess all around himself.

(13-14) Answer these questions in about 50-60 words each. (Reach for the Top) 

13. How did Santosh begin to climb mountains? 

Ans. While she was staying at her hostel in Jaipur, from her room she used to watch people going up the Aravalli Hills and vanishing after a while. This was how she began climbing mountains.

14. What is Behrman's masterpiece? What makes Sue say so? (The Last Leaf)

Ans. Behrman’s masterpiece is the painted leaf on the wall. It has saved Johnsy’s life, though it cost him his own life. After looking at it, Johnsy gets a willingness to live. She is all right now. This makes Sue say that Behrman at last painted his masterpiece in that leaf. It was a masterpiece in the sense also that it had saved Johnsy’s life.

 

10th-MCQ (Supplementary)

SUPPLEMENTARY

1. A Triumph of Surgery New

2. The Thief's Story New

3. The Midnight Visitor New

4. A Question of Trust New

5. Footprint Without Feet New

6. The Making of a Scientist New

7. The Necklace New

8. The Hack Driver New

9. Bholi New

10. The Book That Saved the Earth New

10th-MCQ (Poems)

POEMS

1. Dust of Snow New

2. Fire and Ice New

3. A Tiger in the Zoo New

4. How to Tell Wild Animals New

5. The Ball Poem New

6. Amanda New

7. Animals New

8. The Trees New

9. Fog New

10. The Tale of Custard the Dragon New

11. For Anne Gregory New

10th-MCQ (Prose)

 PROSE (CHAPTERS)

1. A Letter To God New

2. Nelson Mandela 

3. Two Stories About Flying New

4. From the Diary of Anne Frank New

5. 6.The Hundred Dresses-I, II New

7. Glimpses of India New

8.  Mijbil the Otter New

9. Madam Rides the Bus New

10. The Sermon at Benares New

11. The Proposal New

7th-MCQ

9th-MCQ

 MCQ PROSE (BEEHIVE)

1. The Fun They Had

2. The Sound of Music

    (i)  Evelyn Glennie

    (ii) The Shehnai of Bismillah Khan

3. The Little Girl

4. A Truly Beautiful Mind

5. The Snake and the Mirror 

6. My Childhood

7. Packing

8.  Reach for the Top

9. The Bond of Love

10. Kathmandu

11. If I Were You

MCQ POEMS (BEEHIVE)

1. The Road Not Taken

2. Wind

3. Rain on the Roof

4. The Lake Isle of Innisfree

5. A Legend of the Northland

6. No Men Are Forein

7. The Duck and the Kangaroo

8. On Killing a Tree

9. The Snake Trying

10. A Slumber Did My Spirit Seal

MCQ SUPPLEMENTARY (MOMENTS)

1. The Lost Child

2. The Adventures of Toto

3. Iswaran The Storyteller

4. In the Kingdom of Fools

5. The Happy Prince

6. Weathering the Storm in Ersama

7. The Last Leaf 

8. A House is Not a Home

9. The Accidental Tourist

10. The Beggar

8th-MCQ

11th-MCQ

 Prose (Hornbill)

1. The Portrait of a Lady New

2. We Are Not Afraid to Die New

3. Discovering Tut: The Saga Continue New

4. Landscape of the Soul New

5. The Ailing Planet: The Green Movement New

6. The Browning Version New

7. The Adventure New

8. Silk Road New

Hornbill (Poems)

1.  A Photograph New

2. The Laburnum Top New

3. The Voice of the Rain New

4. Childhood New

5. Father to Son New

Supplementary (Snapshots)

1. The Summer of the Beautiful White Horse New

2. The Address New

3. Ranga's Marriage New

4. Albert Einstein at School New

5. Mother's Day New

6. The Ghat of the Only World New

7. Birth New

8. The Tale of Melon City New

10th-MCQ

12th-MCQ

 Flamingo- Chapters 

1. The Last Lesson New

2. Lost Spring New

3. Deep Water New

4. The Rattrap New

5. Indigo New

6. Poets and Pancakes New

7. The Interview New

8. Going Places New

Flamingo- Poems

1. My Mother at Sixty Six New

2. An Elementary School Classroom in a Slum New

3. Keeping Quiet New

4. A Thing of Beauty New

5. A Roadside Stand New

6. Aunt Jennifer's Tigers New

Vistas- Chapters 

1. The Third Level New

2. The Tiger King New

3. Journey to The End of the Earth New

4. The Enemy New

5. Should Wizard Hit Mommy ? New

6. On The Face of It New

7. Evans Tries an O-Level New

8. Memories of Childhood New

7th-Reading Skill

Read one Item daily to improve your Reading Skill

Reading Time, Day-1

8th-Reading Skill

Read one Item daily to improve your Reading Skill

Reading Time, Day-1

12th-Improve Reading Skill

Read one Item daily to improve your Reading Skill

Reading Time, Day-1

       I started for school very late that morning and was in great dread of a scolding, especially because M. Hamel had said that he would question us on participles, and I did not know the first word about them. For a moment I thought of running away and spending the day out of doors. It was so warm, so bright! The birds were chirping at the edge of the woods; and in the open field back of the sawmill the Prussian soldiers were drilling. It was all much more tempting than the rule for participles, but I had the strength to resist, and hurried off to school.

Reading Time, Day-2

When I passed the town hall there was a crowd in front of the bulletin-board. For the last two years all our bad news had come from there — the lost battles, the draft, the orders of the commanding officer — and I thought to myself, without stopping, “What can be the matter now?” Then, as I hurried by as fast as I could go, the blacksmith, Wachter, who was there, with his apprentice, reading the bulletin, called after me, “Don’t go so fast, bub; you’ll get to your school in plenty of time!”

I thought he was making fun of me, and reached M. Hamel’s little garden all out of breath.

Reading Time, Day-3

          Usually, when school began, there was a great bustle, which could be heard out in the street, the opening and closing of desks, lessons repeated in unison, very loud, with our hands over our ears to understand better, and the teacher’s great ruler rapping on the table. But now it was all so still! I had counted on the commotion to get to my desk without being seen; but, of course, that day everything had to be as quiet as Sunday morning. Through the window I saw my  classmates, already in their places, and M. Hamel walking up and down with his terrible iron ruler under his arm. I had to open the door and go in before everybody. You can imagine how I blushed and how frightened I was. But nothing happened. M. Hamel saw me and said very kindly, “Go to your place quickly, little Franz. We were beginning without you.”

Reading Time, Day-4 

        I heard M. Hamel say to me, “I won’t scold you, little Franz; you must feel bad enough. See how it is! Every day we have said to ourselves, ‘Bah! I’ve plenty of time. I’ll learn it tomorrow.’ And now you see where we’ve come out. Ah, that’s the great trouble with Alsace; she puts off learning till tomorrow. Now those fellows out there will have the right to say to you, ‘How is it; you pretend to be Frenchmen, and yet you can neither speak nor write your own language?’ But you are not the worst, poor little Franz. We’ve all a great deal to reproach ourselves with.”

Reading Time, Day-5

       My last French lesson! Why, I hardly knew how to write! I should never learn any more! I must stop there, then! Oh, how sorry I was for not learning my lessons, for seeking birds’ eggs, or going sliding on the Saar! My books, that had seemed such a nuisance a while ago, so heavy to carry, my grammar, and my history of the saints, were old friends now that I couldn’t give up. And M. Hamel, too; the idea that he was going away, that I should never see him again, made me forget all about his ruler and how cranky he was.

Reading Time, Day-6

Then, from one thing to another, M. Hamel went on to talk of the French language, saying that it was the most beautiful language in the world — the clearest, the most logical; that we must guard it among us and never forget it, because when a people are enslaved, as long as they hold fast to their language it is as if they had the key to their prison. Then he opened a grammar and read us our lesson. I was amazed to see how well I understood it. All he said seemed so easy, so easy! I think, too, that I had never listened so carefully, and that he had never explained everything with so much patience. It seemed almost as if the poor man wanted to give us all he knew before going away, and to put it all into our heads at one stroke.

Reading Time, Day-7

           After the grammar, we had a lesson in writing. That day M. Hamel had new copies for us, written in a beautiful round hand — France, Alsace, France, Alsace. They looked like little flags floating everywhere in the school-room, hung from the rod at the top of our desks. You ought to have seen how every one set to work, and how quiet it was! The only sound was the scratching of the pens over the paper. Once some beetles flew in; but nobody paid any attention to them, not even the littlest ones, who worked right on tracing their fish-hooks, as if that was French, too. On the roof the pigeons cooed very low, and I thought to myself, “Will they make them sing in German, even the pigeons?”

Reading Time, Day-8 

          ‘Sometimes I find a Rupee in the garbage’ “Why do you do this?” I ask Saheb whom I encounter every morning scrounging for gold in the garbage dumps of my neighbourhood. Saheb left his home long ago. Set amidst the green fields of Dhaka, his home is not even a distant memory. There were many storms that swept away their fields and homes, his mother tells him. That’s why they left, looking for gold in the big city where he now lives.

Reading Time, Day-9

      After months of knowing him, I ask him his name. “Saheb-e-Alam,” he announces. He does not know what it means. If he knew its meaning — lord of the universe — he would have a hard time believing it. Unaware of what his name represents, he roams the streets with his friends, an army of barefoot boys who appear like the morning birds and disappear at noon. Over the months, I have come to recognise each of them.

Reading Time, Day-10

    I remember a story a man from Udipi once told me. As a young boy he would go to school past an old temple, where his father was a priest. He would stop briefly at the temple and pray for a pair of shoes. Thirty years later I visited his town and the temple, which was now drowned in an air of desolation. In the backyard, where lived the new priest, there were red and white plastic chairs. A young boy dressed in a grey uniform, wearing socks and shoes, arrived panting and threw his school bag on a folding bed. Looking at the boy, I remembered the prayer another boy had made to the goddess when he had finally got a pair of shoes, “Let me never lose them.” The goddess had granted his prayer. Young boys like the son of the priest now wore shoes. But many others like the ragpickers in my neighbourhood remain shoeless.

Reading Time, Day-11 

        My acquaintance with the barefoot ragpickers leads me to Seemapuri, a  lace on the periphery of Delhi yet miles away from it, metaphorically. Those who live here are squatters who came from Bangladesh back in 1971. Saheb’s family is among them. Seemapuri was then a wilderness. It still is, but it is no longer empty. In structures of mud, with roofs of tin and tarpaulin, devoid of sewage, drainage or running water, live 10,000 ragpickers. They have lived here for more than thirty years without an identity, without permits but with ration cards that get their names on voters’ lists and enable them to buy grain.

Reading Time, Day-12

“I sometimes find a rupee, even a ten-rupee note,” Saheb says, his eyes lighting up. When you can find a silver coin in a heap of garbage, you don’t stop scrounging, for there is hope of finding more. It seems that for children, garbage has a meaning different from what it means to their parents. For the children it is wrapped in wonder, for the elders it is a means of survival.

Reading Time, Day-13

One winter morning I see Saheb standing by the fenced gate of the neighbourhood club, watching two young men dressed in white, playing tennis. “I like the game,” he hums, content to watch it standing behind the fence. “I go inside when no one is around,” he admits. “The gatekeeper lets me use the swing.” Saheb too is wearing tennis shoes that look strange over his discoloured shirt and shorts. “Someone gave them to me,” he says in the manner of an explanation. The fact that they are discarded shoes of some rich boy, who perhaps refused to wear them because of a hole in one of them, does not bother him. For one who has walked barefoot, even shoes with a hole is a dream come true. But the game he is watching so intently is out of his reach.

Reading Time, Day-14

           This morning, Saheb is on his way to the milk booth. In his hand is a steel canister. “I now work in a tea stall down the road,” he says, pointing in the distance. “I am paid 800 rupees and all my meals.” Does he like the job? I ask. His face, I see, has lost the carefree look. The steel canister seems heavier than the plastic bag he would carry so lightly over his shoulder. The bag was his. The canister belongs to the man who owns the tea shop. Saheb is no longer his own master!

Reading Time, Day-15

    “I want to drive a car” Mukesh insists on being his own master. “I will be a motor mechanic,” he announces. “Do you know anything about cars?” I ask. “I will learn to drive a car,” he answers, looking straight into my eyes. His dream looms like a mirage amidst the dust of streets that fill his town Firozabad, famous for its bangles. Every other family in Firozabad is engaged in making bangles. It is the centre of India’s glass-blowing industry where families have spent generations working around furnaces, welding glass, making bangles for all the women in the land it seems.

Reading Time, Day-16

      “It is his karam, his destiny,” says Mukesh’s grandmother, who has watched her own husband go blind with the dust from polishing the glass of bangles. “Can a god-given lineage ever be broken?” she implies. Born in the caste of bangle makers, they have seen nothing but bangles — in the house, in the yard, in every other house, every other yard, every street in Firozabad. Spirals of bangles — sunny gold, paddy green, royal blue, pink, purple, every colour born out of the seven colours of the rainbow — lie in mounds in unkempt yards, are piled on four-wheeled handcarts, pushed by young men along the narrow lanes of the shanty town. And in dark hutments, next to lines of flames of flickering oil lamps, sit boys and girls with their fathers and mothers, welding pieces of coloured glass into circles of bangles. Their eyes are more adjusted to the dark than to the light outside. That is why they often end up losing their eyesight before they become adults.

Reading Time, Day-17

Savita, a young girl in a drab pink dress, sits alongside an elderly woman, soldering pieces of glass. As her hands move mechanically like the tongs of a machine, I wonder if she knows the sanctity of the bangles she helps make. It symbolises an Indian woman’s suhaag, auspiciousness in marriage. It will dawn on her suddenly one day when her head is draped with a red veil, her hands dyed red with henna, and red bangles rolled onto her wrists. She will then become a bride. Like the old woman beside her who became one many years ago. She still has bangles on her wrist, but no light in her eyes. “Ek waqt ser bhar khana bhi nahin khaya,” she says, in a voice drained of joy. She has not enjoyed even one full meal in her entire lifetime — that’s what she has reaped! Her husband, an old man with a flowing beard, says, “I know nothing except bangles. All I have done is make a house for the family to live in.”

Reading Time, Day-18

         It had happened when I was ten or eleven years old. I had decided to learn to swim. There was a pool at the Y.M.C.A. in Yakima that offered exactly the opportunity. The Yakima River was treacherous. Mother continually warned against it, and kept fresh in my mind the details of each drowning in the river. But the Y.M.C.A. pool was safe. It was only two or three feet deep at the shallow end; and while it was nine feet deep at the other.

Reading Time, Day-19

       From the beginning, however, I had an aversion to the water when I was in it. This started when I was three or four years old and father took me to the beach in California. He and I stood together in the surf. I hung on to him, yet the waves knocked me down and swept over me. I was buried in water. My breath was gone. I was frightened. Father laughed, but there was terror in my heart at the overpowering force of the waves.

Reading Time, Day-20

       My introduction to the Y.M.CA. swimming pool revived unpleasant memories and stirred childish fears. But in a little while I gathered confidence. I paddled with my new water wings, watching the other boys and trying to learn by aping them. I did this two or three times on different days and was just beginning to feel at ease in the water when the misadventure happened.

Reading Time, Day-21

I struck at the water as I went down, expending my strength as one in a nightmare fights an irresistible force. I had lost all my breath. My lungs ached, my head throbbed. I was getting dizzy. But I remembered the strategy — I would spring from the bottom of the pool and come like a cork to the surface. I would lie flat on the water, strike out with my arms, and thrash with my legs. Then I would get to the edge of the pool and be safe.

Reading Time, Day-22

          But the jump made no difference. The water was still around me. I looked for ropes, ladders, water wings. Nothing but water. A mass of yellow water held me. Stark terror took an even deeper hold on me, like a great charge of electricity. I shook and trembled with fright. My arms wouldn’t move. My legs wouldn’t move. I tried to call for help, to call for mother. Nothing happened.

Reading Time, Day-23 

          Once upon a time there was a man who went around selling small rattraps of wire. He made them himself at odd moments, from the material he got by begging in the stores or at the big farms. But even so, the business was not especially profitable, so he had to resort to both begging and petty thievery to keep body and soul together. Even so,

his clothes were in rags, his cheeks were sunken, and hunger gleamed in his eyes.

Reading Time, Day-24

     One dark evening as he was trudging along the road he caught sight of a little gray cottage by the roadside, and he knocked on the door to ask shelter for the night. Nor was he refused. Instead of the sour faces which ordinarily met him, the owner, who was an old man without wife or child, was happy to get someone to talk to in his loneliness. Immediately he put the porridge pot on the fire and gave him supper; then he carved off such a big slice from his tobacco roll that it was enough both for the stranger’s pipe and his own. Finally he got out an old pack of cards and played ‘mjolis’ with his guest until bedtime.

Reading Time, Day-25

            The next day both men got up in good season. The crofter was in a hurry to milk his cow, and the other man probably thought he should not stay in bed when the head of the house had gotten up. They left the cottage at the same time. The crofter locked the door and put the key in his pocket. The man with the rattraps said good bye and thank you, and thereupon each went his own way. But half an hour later the rattrap peddler stood again before the door. He did not try to get in, however. He only went up to the window, smashed a pane, stuck in his hand, and got hold of the pouch with the thirty kronor. He took the money and thrust it into his own pocket. Then he hung the leather pouch very carefully back in its place and went away.

Reading Time, Day-26 

       It was late in December. Darkness was already descending over the forest. This increased the danger, and increased also his gloom and despair. Finally he saw no way out, and he sank down on the ground, tired to death, thinking that his last moment had come. But just as he laid his head on the ground, he heard a sound—a hard regular thumping. There was no doubt as to what that was. He raised himself. ‘‘Those are the hammer strokes from an iron mill’’, he thought. ‘‘There must be people near by’’. He summoned all his strength, got up, and staggered in the direction of the sound.

Reading Time, Day-27

‘‘My name is Edla Willmansson,’’ said the young girl. ‘‘My father came home and said that you wanted to sleep here in the forge tonight, and then I asked permission to come and bring you home to us. I am so sorry, Captain, that you are having such a hard time.’’ She looked at him compassionately, with her heavy eyes, and then she noticed that the man was afraid. ‘‘Either he has stolen something or else he has escaped from, jail’’, she thought, and added quickly, “You may be sure, Captain, that you will be allowed to leave us just as freely as you came. Only please stay with us over Christmas Eve.’’

Reading Time, Day-28

The young girl opened the package, which was so badly done up that the contents came into view at once. She gave a little cry of joy. She found a small rattrap, and in it lay three wrinkled ten kronor notes. But that was not all. In the rattrap lay also a letter written in large, jagged characters — “Honoured and noble Miss, “Since you have been so nice to me all day long, as if I was a captain, I want to be nice to you, in return, as if I was a real captain — for I do not want you to be embarrassed at this Christmas season by a thief; but you can give back the money to the old man on the roadside, who has the money pouch hanging on the window frame as a bait for poor wanderers.

Reading Time, Day-29

           When I first visited Gandhi in 1942 at his ashram in Sevagram, in central India, he said, “I will tell you how it happened that I decided to urge the departure of the British. It was in 1917.” He had gone to the December 1916 annual convention of the Indian National Congress party in Lucknow. There were 2,301 delegates and many visitors. During the proceedings, Gandhi recounted, “a peasant came up to me looking like any other peasant in India, poor and emaciated, and said, ‘I am Rajkumar Shukla. I am from Champaran, and I want you to come to my district’!’’ Gandhi had never heard of the place. It was in the foothills of the towering Himalayas, near the kingdom of Nepal.

Reading Time, Day-30

     Under an ancient arrangement, the Champaran peasants were sharecroppers. Rajkumar Shukla was one of them. He was illiterate but resolute. He had come to the Congress session to complain about the injustice of the landlord system in Bihar, and somebody had probably said, “Speak to Gandhi.” Gandhi told Shukla he had an appointment in Cawnpore and was also committed to go to other parts of India. Shukla accompanied him everywhere. Then Gandhi returned to his ashram near Ahmedabad. Shukla followed him to the ashram. For weeks he never left Gandhi’s side. “Fix a date,” he begged.

11th-Improve your Reading Skill

Read one Item daily to improve your Reading Skill

Reading Time, Day-1

10th-Improve Reading Skill

Read one Item daily to improve your Reading Skill

Reading Time, Day-1

9th-Improve Reading Skill

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Reading Time, Day-1

10th-Eng, Syllabus for Half Yearly Exam

Prose  - 1. A Letter to God

     2. Nelson Mandela

     3. Two Stories about Flying

     4. From the Diary of Anne Frank    

Poems- 1. Dust of Snow

     2. Fire and Ice

               3. A Tiger in the Zoo

               4. How Tells to Wild Animals 

               5. The Ball Poem

               6. Amanda           

Suppl.- 1. A Triumph of Suegery

              2. The Thief's Story

              3. The Midnight Visitor

              4. A Question of Trust

              5. Footprints without Feet         

Composition-

             1. Application 

  2.  Business Letters

  3.  Story Writing 

             4. Unseen Passage

Grammar -  

              1. Punctuation

    2. Articles 

              3. Tenses (Verb Forms)

   4.  Reported Speech 

   5.  Modals