'Lasting' impressions...

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Future Tenses - Review

This is just a recap of what we learned about tenses in class today.

Future - GOING TO
The future verb tense "going to" is used in the following situation:

Planned Events - When a future event that has been planned before the time of speaking.
■I am going to visit Mexico in a few days.
■We are not going to work next week.
■They are going to attend university next year.
 
Future - WILL.

We use the future- WILL tense when there is no plan or decision to do something before we speak. We make the decision spontaneously at the time of speaking. Look at these examples:
•Hold on. I'll get a pen.
•We will see what we can do to help you.
•Maybe we'll stay in and watch television tonight.


In these examples, we had no firm plan before speaking. The decision is made at the time of speaking.

Future PERFECT (needs 1,2,3 things) will/won't +have+participle

The future perfect tense designates action that will have been completed at a specified time in the future.

see  the difference???

Saturday I will finish my housework. (simple future)

By Saturday noon, I will have finished my housework. (future perfect)

Further Examples - Look how all these events will have finished by a time in the future... BY is normally used with the future perfect

3. She'll have read the book by the time you arrive.

4. I'm afraid we won't have finished by the end of tomorrow afternoon.
5. What will you have studied by the time you finish college?

Use blog to ask any questions about these tenses.  What do you think about the 'future' now !!!

These videos recap my lesson almost exactly!!!

Coming Next Week

• Social Studies Chapter 9 Review and Test (Fri)
• Visual Association Study Skill
• Tenses (Future and Past)
• Creating Porpaganda  Ads
• Chains -Directed Personal Reading 'Historical Non-fiction'

Omniscient-NARRATIVE...

Read MG's excellent narrative. What are her best lines?

The smell of herbs and old boxes wafted through the musty air of The Old Wells General Store. The cobbled stone streets were alive with afternoon activity, the summer sun warming the faces of pedestrians. Unusual warm weather on the fall day drew children out to play among the multi colored leaves. A tinkling of bells echoed outside as a bay horse pulled up in front of a shiny wooden carriage, disposing a rosy cheeked child and her drawn-up mother. With the rustling of skirts and lavender perfume, mother and daughter tottered into the General Store. Mrs. Smith gaily picked out parchment and letter stationary for her child’s party, swatting down grubby hands with her gloved one. As she hurried to the counter, she wondered if her apple pie was burning on the coal stove. But all thoughts of apple pie left her mind when she was reminded by the clerk of the extra fee. Her face aghast, her green eyes wide as a gloved hand shook, a vein seemed to pop out of her powdered face. Placing a dainty hand upon its pair, she gave him an icy nod. “I see.” Was all she could muster. Her mouth clamped together like a clam, she dropped the materials and hurried her protesting child out, her mind turning like the worn wheels on the cobbled road.


With another sigh, James Andrews was forced out another wooden door, another bag of coins in his chapped hands. Pulling up his collar, a beautiful red leave flew into his face. Sputtering, he took in the strange warm weather. Maybe it’s a good sign… or not, he thought to himself as his deer hide boots quickened when the mob of shouting Patriot protesters came into view. Swallowing as beads of sweat appeared on his brow, the hated tax collector sprinted for his brick home. The lock clicked as a sigh of relief escaped him, the creases on his pale forehead disappearing. Thoughts of resigning filled his troubled mind as the cry of “No taxation without representation!” paraded in front of his sturdy house. A trembling hand parted the curtain as James looked out. The English flag his heart beat for so dearly wavered above his head. Thoughts of England filled his head, thoughts of the Boston before all this trouble started… “They won a war for them!” he told his tabby. “Why is it suc.h a big deal to pay a mite of pocket money for our King George III, may he reign forever.” His face a drawn out scowl, he lifted his chin and closed the curtain

For many of you, I told you that you didn't effectively describe a scene. Read Caroline's M. first  paragraph that perfectly sets the scene. She used the picture to help her. - Hint! Use pictures to  help you in future.

A blanket of snow lies over the cobblestone streets of Boston. Inside the chocolate brown house sits Mercy Otis Watson and Abigail Adams. The milky tablecloth covered the wooden table topped with crumpets and tea. Hanging on the wall are paintings of British scenery. Mercy dressed in a lovely pale blue ruffled sat chatting about the taxes with Abigail. In a light pink and white, Abigail Adams fanned herself with her ivory fan listening to Mercy chatter on about the king.

Examples of Students' Work - Brag Sheet

The Boston Massacre

Mary Goldman, a patriotic resident of Boston, was appalled by the Townshend Acts along with numerous others. Being just a child, she did not fully understand the situation. The thing she did understand though, was that her father was not bringing home any more money. Mary participated in every protest with her father that she could. She wanted the British gone.

On the other hand, James Howard was a loyalist and actually in the British army. He hated the way people called him names like bloody back and ran away from him in the street. One of his neighbors even moved away because James was a loyalist. He lived alone and desperately needed a friend, someone to talk to, to complain to.

What started out as a beautiful day for Mary Goldman, would soon turn into the worst nightmare of her life. A narrow road with many inhabitants, Glare Drive, sat in the center of Boston. A small townhouse with a worn wooden door on rusty hinges was at the very end of this road. Mary sat on her front steps, her foot started to tap and a loud sigh exhaled from her lungs, “when will father arrive home?” she thought. On any other day she wouldn’t have waited this long, but today her father promised to take her to a protest on the Townshend Acts. How could she resist such an offer? On the other side of town James was finishing up his lunch and grabbing his gear. Dread and regret filled him as he pondered on the thought of struggling with the patriots yet again. All he wanted was the chance to return to England. Little did he know that that chance might just happen later in the day.

“Father!” Mary’s high-pitched squeal echoed through the alley with excitement as her father rounded the last block to her house. He picked her up and swung her around in circles while the laughter of a child filled the air. Once down on the ground she said, “ Remember that you promised to take me to a protest today.” He replied, “ How could I not?” Hand in hand they walked down the road to where the protest would be held. A few blocks away James marched with his troop. Light filtered through the cracks in the alleyway. Muck sat on the edges of the dark road. Not a whisper was heard. Bam, bam, bam, the sound of boots hit the cobblestone road. “Attention, single file line behind me,” projected the commander of James Howard’s troop. Peering off in the distance James could already see a large group of protesters forming where they were about to arrive. A glare spread across his face as he thought of their leader, Crispus Attucks. The one thought raced through his mind, “Not another protest.”

As Mary and her father approached the scene, people swarmed around each other. Mary could not see over the numerous tall men, so her father put her up onto his shoulders to be taller than the rest. People shouted and held signs that read, “NO TAXATION WITHOUT REPRESENTATION!” The soldiers were approaching fast. In about a minute’s time they would be straight in front of the crowd. About a half-mile ahead, the soldiers marched on. Eventually they reached to the crowd. People shouted and screamed. A churning rose from deep inside James’s gut. Dirty snowballs whizzed through the air as far as the eye could see. A scream ringed through the air and James saw a man beating one of the soldiers with a club. More people advanced, gunshots fired. James’s finger brought the brown musket trigger back, but right before he did, his eyes caught the face of a terrified little girl on her father’s shoulders in the back of the crowd. Mary heard the gunshots and instinctively her head shot down with her hands over it in a defensive position. When she lifted her head, all the smoke had cleared and five figures lay on the ground lifeless and not moving. Mary screamed and nearly fainted. Being an agile man, her father turned and caught her. Running away with Mary in his arms, he looked back to see the soldiers marching away.