Discussion-Based Assessment.

English homework Discussion-Based Assessment Once you have completed all of the lessons up to this point, complete your Discussion-Based Assessment. Writing Prompt: Choose one reading from the unit. From this reading, choose a quote that you feel is reflective of the unit theme of achievements that have changed people’s lives and the world around us. Explain how the quote is significant to the theme, and how you can relate the message of the quote to yourself or to the world around you. Requirements: Three well written paragraphs that explain how your quote is representative of the unit theme. One example that relates your quote to the other readings present in the unit. One example that links your quote to real life. Readings: Malawi Windmill Boy With Big Fans, By Jude Sheerin, BBC Self-taught William Kamkwamba has been feted by climate change campaigners like Al Gore and business leaders the world over. His against-all-odds achievements are all the more remarkable considering he was forced to quit school aged 14 because his family could no longer afford the $80-a-year (£50) fees. When he returned to his parents’ small plot of farmland in the central Malawian village of Masitala, his future seemed limited. But this was not another tale of African potential thwarted by poverty. Defence Against Hunger The teenager had a dream of bringing electricity and running water to his village. And he was not prepared to wait for politicians or aid groups to do it for him. The need for action was even greater in 2002 following one of Malawi’s worst droughts, which killed thousands of people and left his family on the brink of starvation. Unable to attend school, he kept up his education by using a local library. Fascinated by science, his life changed one day when he picked up a tattered textbook and saw a picture of a windmill. Mr Kamkwamba told the BBC News website: I was very interested when I saw the windmill could make electricity and pump water. I thought: ˜That could be a defence against hunger. Maybe I should build one for myself’. When not helping his family farm maize, he plugged away at his prototype, working by the light of a paraffin lamp in the evenings. But his ingenious project met blank looks in his community of about 200 people. Many, including my mother, thought I was going crazy, he recalls. They had never seen a windmill before. Shocks Neighbours were further perplexed at the youngster spending so much time scouring rubbish tips. People thought I was smoking marijuana, he said. So I told them I was only making something for juju [magic]. ˜ Then they said: ˜Ah, I see. ˜ Mr Kamkwamba, who is now 22 years old, knocked together a turbine from spare bicycle parts, a tractor fan blade and an old shock absorber, and fashioned blades from plastic pipes, flattened by being held over a fire. I got a few electric shocks climbing that [windmill], says Mr Kamkwamba, ruefully recalling his months of painstaking work. The finished product-a 5-m (16-ft) tall blue-gum-tree wood tower, swaying in the breeze over Masitala-seemed little more than a quixotic tinkerer’s folly. But his neighbours’ mirth turned to amazement when Mr Kamkwamba scrambled up the windmill and hooked a car light bulb to the turbine. As the blades began to spin in the breeze, the bulb flickered to life and a crowd of astonished onlookers went wild. Soon the whiz kid’s 12-watt wonder was pumping power into his family’s mud brick compound. 2.A Boy of Unusual Vision, by Alice Steinback, The Baltimore Sun First, the eyes: They are large and blue, a light opaque blue, the color of a robin’s egg. And if, on a sunny spring day, you look straight into these eyes-eyes that cannot look back at you-the sharp, April light turns them pale, like the thin blue of a high, cloudless sky. Ten-year-old Calvin Stanley, the owner of these eyes and a boy who has been blind since birth, likes this description and asks to hear it twice. He listens as only he can listen, then: Orange used to be my favorite color but now it’s blue, he announces. Pause. The eyes flutter between the short, thick lashes, I know there’s light blue and there’s dark blue, but what does sky-blue look like? he wants to know. And if you watch his face as he listens to your description, you get a sense of a picture being clicked firmly into place behind the pale eyes. He is a boy who has a lot of pictures stored in his head, retrievable images which have been fashioned for him by the people who love him-by family and friends and teachers who have painstakingly and patiently gone about creating a special world for Calvin’s inner eye to inhabit. Picture of a rainbow: It’s a lot of beautiful colors, one next to the other. Shaped like a bow. In the sky. Right across. Picture of lightning, which frightens Calvin: My mother says lightning looks like a Christmas tree-the way it blinks on and off across the sky, he says, offering a comforting description that would make a poet proud. Child, his mother once told him, one day I won’t be here and I won’t be around to pick you up when you fall-nobody will be around all the time to pick you up-so you have to try to be something on your own. You have to learn how to deal with this. And to do that, you have to learn how to think. There was never a moment when Ethel Stanley said to herself, My son is blind and this is how I’m going to handle it. Calvin’s mother: When Calvin was little, he was so inquisitive. He wanted to see everything, he wanted to touch everything. I had to show him every little thing there is. A spoon, a fork. I let him play with them. The pots, the pans. Everything. I showed him the sharp edges of the table. ˜You cannot touch this; it will hurt you.’ And I showed him what would hurt. He still bumped into it anyway, but he knew what he wasn’t supposed to do and what he could do. And he knew that nothing in his room-nothing-could hurt him. And when he started walking and we went out together-I guess he was about 2-I never said anything to him about what to do. When we got to the curbs. Calvin knew that when I stopped, he should step down and when I stopped again, he should step up. I never said anything, that’s just the way we did it. And it became a pattern. Click Order now to have a similar paper completed for you by our team of Experts.