2022: NY Grade 8 - ELA
By Sara Cowley
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Last updated 3 months ago
29 Questions
From the New York State Education Department. New York State Testing Program Grade 8 English Language Arts Test Released Questions 2022. Internet. Available from https://www.nysedregents.org/ei/ela/2022/2022-released-items-ela-g8.pdf; accessed 3, May, 2023.
Excerpt from “The Beadwork” from American Indian Stories
by Zitkala-Sa
1. Soon after breakfast mother sometimes began her beadwork. On a bright, clear day, she pulled out the wooden pegs that pinned the skirt of our wigwam to the ground, and rolled the canvas part way up on its frame of slender poles. Then the cool morning breezes swept freely through our dwelling, now and then wafting the perfume of sweet grasses from the newly burnt prairie.
2. Untying the long tasseled strings that bound a small brown buckskin bag, my mother spread upon a mat beside her bunches of colored beads, just as an artist arranges the paints upon his palette. On a lapboard she smoothed out a double sheet of soft white buckskin; and drawing from a beaded case that hung on the left of her wide belt a long, narrow blade, she trimmed the buckskin into shape. Often she worked upon small moccasins for her small daughter. Then I became intensely interested in her designing. With a proud, beaming face, I watched her work. In imagination, I saw myself walking in a new pair of snugly fitting moccasins. I felt the envious eyes of my playmates upon the pretty red beads decorating my feet.
2 Close beside my mother I sat on a rug, with a scrap of buckskin in one hand and an awl in the other. This was the beginning of my practical observation lessons in the art of beadwork. From a skein of finely twisted threads of silvery sinews my mother pulled out a single one. With an awl she pierced the buckskin, and skillfully threaded it with the white sinew. Picking up the tiny beads one by one, she strung them with the point of her thread, always twisting it carefully after every stitch. . . .
3 Always after these confining lessons I was wild with surplus spirits, and found joyous relief in running loose in the open again. Many a summer afternoon a party of four or five of my playmates roamed over the hills with me. We each carried a light, sharpened rod about four feet long, with which we pried up certain sweet roots. When we had eaten all the choice roots we chanced upon, we shouldered our rods and strayed off into patches of a stalky plant under whose yellow blossoms we found little crystal drops of gum. Drop by drop we gathered this nature’s rock-candy, until each of us could boast of a lump the size of a small bird’s egg. Soon satiated with its woody flavor, we tossed away our gum, to return again to the sweet roots.
5. I remember well how we used to exchange our necklaces, beaded belts, and sometimes even our moccasins. We pretended to offer them as gifts to one another. We delighted in impersonating our own mothers. We talked of things we had heard them say in their conversations. We imitated their various manners, even to the inflection of their voices. In the lap of the prairie we seated ourselves upon our feet, and leaning our painted cheeks in the palms of our hands, we rested our elbows on our knees, and bent forward as old women were most accustomed to do.
6. While one was telling of some heroic deed recently done by a near relative, the rest of us listened attentively, and exclaimed in undertones “Han! han!” (yes! yes!) whenever the speaker paused for breath, or sometimes for our sympathy. As the discourse became more thrilling, according to our ideas, we raised our voices in these interjections. In these impersonations our parents were led to say only those things that were in common favor.
7. No matter how exciting a tale we might be rehearsing, the mere shifting of a cloud shadow in the landscape near by was sufficient to change our impulses; and soon we were all chasing the great shadows that played among the hills. We shouted and whooped in the chase; laughing and calling to one another, we were like little sportive nymphs on that Dakota sea of rolling green.
8. On one occasion I forgot the cloud shadow in a strange notion to catch up with my own shadow. Standing straight and still, I began to glide after it, putting out one foot cautiously. When, with the greatest care, I set my foot in advance of myself, my shadow crept onward too. Then again I tried it; this time with the other foot. Still again my shadow escaped me. I began to run; and away flew my shadow, always just a step beyond me. Faster and faster I ran, setting my teeth and clenching my fists, determined to overtake my own fleet shadow. But ever swifter it glided before me while I was growing breathless and hot. Slackening my speed, I was greatly vexed that my shadow should check its pace also. Daring it to the utmost, as I thought, I sat down upon a rock imbedded in the hillside.
9. So! my shadow had the impudence3 9 to sit down beside me!
10. Now my comrades caught up with me, and began to ask why I was running away so fast.
11. “Oh, I was chasing my shadow! Didn’t you ever do that?” I inquired, surprised that they should not understand.
12. They planted their moccasined feet firmly upon my shadow to stay it, and I arose. Again my shadow slipped away, and moved as often as I did. Then we gave up trying to catch my shadow.
13. Before this peculiar experience, I have no distinct memory of having recognized any vital bond between myself and my shadow. I never gave it an afterthought.
14. Returning to our borrowed belts and trinkets, we rambled homeward. That evening, as on other evenings, I went to sleep over my legends.
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satiated: completely satisfied
sportive nymphs: playful creatures of the woods
impudence: nerve
This story takes place in Japan. The narrator has just rented a new home on a small street named Lightning Alley.
Excerpt from The Guest Cat
by Takashi Hiraide
1. The cat’s name was Chibi, which means “little one.” We could hear the boy’s particularly high-pitched voice calling the cat: “Chibi!” Then we’d hear the sound of the boy’s shoes running around outside, followed by the tinkling of the little bell announcing the cat’s arrival.
2. Chibi was a jewel of a cat. Her pure white fur was mottled with several lampblack blotches containing just a bit of light brown. The sort of cat you might see just about anywhere in Japan, except she was especially slim and tiny.
3. These were her individual characteristics—slim and small, with ears that stood out, tapering off beautifully at the tips, and often twitching. She would approach silently and undetected to rub up against one’s legs. At first I thought Chibi avoided me because I was not used to cats, but this seems not to have been the case. When a girl who often passed along Lightning Alley stopped and crouched to gaze at the cat, it did not run away. But as soon as she attempted to touch it, the cat quickly slipped off, avoiding contact at all costs. The cat’s manner of rejection was like cold, white light.
4. Moreover, the cat rarely made a sound. As far as I remember, when it first appeared in the alley it made some sort of sound, but since then it had never let out a meow. It looked as if no matter how much time passed the cat was not going to let us hear its voice. This seemed to be the message the cat was giving us.
5. Another one of Chibi’s characteristics was that she changed the direction of her cautious attention frequently. This active behavior wasn’t limited to her kittenhood. Perhaps because she played alone most of the time in the expansive garden, she reacted strongly to insects and reptiles. And there were times when I could only conclude that she must be reacting to subtle changes in the wind and light, not detectable by humans. It may be that most cats share the same quickness, but even so, in Chibi’s case, it was acute—she was, after all, the cat of Lightning Alley. My wife got into the habit of pointing to the cat whenever it went by, extolling its virtues. . . .
6. Chibi, who loved to play ball, gradually began to visit us on her own and would try and get us to play with her. She would step gingerly into the room and gaze intently at its occupants, then purposefully turn around and walk back out, as if to lead us to the garden. This process would be repeated until she got a response. Most of the time my wife would put down whatever she was doing, slip happily into her sandals and head outside
7. Having played to her heart’s content, Chibi would come inside and rest for a while. When she began to sleep on the sofa—like a talisman curled gently in the shape of a comma and dug up from a prehistoric archaeological site—a deep sense of happiness arrived, as if the house itself had dreamed this scene.
8. Avoiding the prying eyes of the landlady, we began leaving it up to Chibi to come inside the house whenever she wanted—and with this new development I had begun little by little to understand cat lovers. Whether on TV or in all of the ubiquitous cat calendars, it seemed as if there was no cat comparable to her. But, though I had started to think of her as the best cat around, she was not really our cat.
9. First we would hear the tinkling of the bell, and then she would appear, so we began to call her by the nickname “Tinkerbell.” Whenever we wanted her to come over, this name seemed to find itself on our lips.
10. “I wonder where Tinkerbell is.” By the time my wife had gotten the words out of her mouth we’d hear the tinkling of Chibi’s bell. We’d realize that she was near at the point where, exiting the foyer next door (located at the second corner of Lightning Alley), Chibi would leap through the tear in the wire-mesh boundary of the property, dash along the side of the building, turn at the far end of the veranda, leap up onto the open area of the deck, and then, placing her front paws on the window frame at about the height of a human adult’s knee, stretch out her neck to peek inside.
11. In winter she came inside. Little by little, through the crack in the partially opened window, her tendency to visit subtly developed; her appearances were repeated until, as if a silken opening in a fabric had been continuously moistened and stretched, Chibi had entered our lives. But at the same time—call it fate if you will—something else was closing in and pressing itself against that tendency.
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extolling: praising
talisman: an object thought to bring good luck
ubiquitous: present everywhere
Excerpt from The Call of Coney Island
by Cynthia Overbeck Bix
1. Salty ocean smells mingle with the aromas of sweet cotton candy and Nathan’s Famous hot dogs. The legendary Cyclone roller coaster lurches along its tracks—then takes a heart-stopping plunge. Riders whoop and scream with excitement. Farther down the boardwalk, the sound of a carousel starts. Patrons pitch balls at moving targets, hoping to win a prize. Welcome to Coney Island, the nation’s first truly modern amusement area.
2. Located on the southern tip of Brooklyn, New York, Coney Island has been the place to go for fun for more than a century. The inspiration for amusement parks such as Coney Island sprang from an exciting event in 1893—the World’s Columbian Exposition in Chicago. It was one of the first venues where people experienced a variety of attractions in one large space.
3. Visitors to Chicago gasped in wonder when they saw the fair’s “White City” spread out before them. Beautiful all-white exhibition buildings and large classical statues framed a lagoon of shimmering water. Designed to educate and inform, about a dozen grand buildings housed displays on the latest developments in transportation, machinery, agriculture, art, horticulture, and more. Most visitors had never seen the things they saw there, such as electric lights, a moving sidewalk, world-famous artwork, and moving pictures.
4. While the World’s Columbian Exposition awed people with new innovations and ideas, its most popular attraction was the Midway Plaisance. Located in a separate section of the exhibition grounds, the Midway was filled with entertainment: rides, food stands, and sideshows. People could get a taste of international cultures, for example, by riding a camel through the Streets of Cairo or strolling among the thatched huts of a South Sea village. Best of all, they could ride George Ferris’s giant spinning wheel. Rising 264 feet above the Midway, this engineering marvel became the star of the fair. It was a spectacular example of what the new age of machines made possible.
5. One visitor, New York showman George C. Tilyou, immediately saw potential for this new form of entertainment. Tilyou owned property on Coney Island, which already was an established beach resort with hotels, bathhouses, and restaurants. It also featured an odd collection of sideshows, food vendors, fortunetellers, and more. Tilyou decided to build an enclosed amusement park there.
6. In 1897, Tilyou opened Steeplechase Park. When he was unable to buy Ferris’s wheel, he had his own version built. For 25 cents, visitors could ride Tilyou’s wheel, enjoy the Scenic Railway, or climb into a “spaceship” for a Trip to the Moon. On the Steeplechase, wooden horses carried riders along a metal racetrack from a starting gate to a finish line.
7. Steeplechase Park’s huge success was partly due to another invention—electric railways. The first electric trolley line had connected Manhattan Island and Coney Island in the mid-1800s. By the turn of the 20th century, an electric train offered an even faster way to carry more people wanting to escape from the hot, crowded city.
8. In the late 1800s and early 1900s, most people worked long hours and six days a week in urban factories and shops. But for a nickel fare, a city worker could afford a day’s outing to a nearby park on Sundays. Recognizing the value of giving the working class access to day trips, trolley and train companies established parks that were located at the end of a line. Travelers disembarked to enjoy simple outdoor pleasures in picnic groves and swimming pools or beaches. Eventually, merry-go-rounds, penny arcades, and even small roller coasters were added. . . .
9. Part sideshow, part circus, part theme park, Coney Island set an example for amusement parks. Attractions that are so familiar today—roller coasters, water rides, fun houses, Tunnels of Love—all got their start there.
10. Many amusement parks closed during the Great Depression in the 1930s or during World War II (1939–1945). Coney Island has had its ups and downs, too. Over the decades, fires and age destroyed some of the original attractions. In 2012, Superstorm Sandy wrecked the boardwalk and many of the attractions.
11. In spite of all that, Coney Island has survived, and it is still operating today. It continues to offer each new generation of kids (and their parents) a chance to escape to a special world of entertainment and thrills. And from New Jersey’s Wildwood Park to California’s Pacific Park and Florida’s Walt Disney World, other amusement and theme parks have taken their cues from Coney Island. They have grown to epic proportions in their efforts to offer a world full of fun.
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penny arcades: indoor area with amusements such as games and photo booths operated by placing a coin in a slot
Elaine Reese is a professor of psychology and the author of a book about telling stories.
Excerpt from What Kids Learn From Hearing Family Stories
by Elaine Reese
1. “Dad, tell me a story from when you were little. Tell me the story about the time you met your best friend Chris at school.” Six-year-old Alex, who has just started school himself, snuggles into his pillow and catches his dad’s hand in the dark. They have finished the nightly reading of Tin Tin and now it’s time for “just one more story” before Alex goes to sleep.
2. Most parents know about the benefits of reading stories from books with their young children. Parents are blasted with this message in pediatricians’ offices, at preschool, on TV, even with billboards on the city bus. Reading books with children on a daily basis advances their language skills, extends their learning about the world, and helps their own reading later in school. Reading with your child from a young age can instill a lifelong love of books. A new study published in Science even shows that reading literary fiction improves adults’ ability to understand other people’s emotions.
3. Reading books with your children is clearly a good idea. . . .
4. Yet what most parents don’t know is that everyday family stories, like the one that Alex’s dad spun out that night, confer many of the same benefits of reading—and even some new ones.
5. Over the last 25 years, a small canon of research on family storytelling shows that when parents share more family stories with their children—especially when they tell those stories in a detailed and responsive way—their children benefit in a host of ways. For instance, experimental studies show that when parents learn to reminisce about everyday events with their preschool children in more detailed ways, their children tell richer, more complete narratives to other adults one to two years later compared to children whose parents didn’t learn the new reminiscing techniques. Children of the parents who learned new ways to reminisce also demonstrate better understanding of other people’s thoughts and emotions. These advanced narrative and emotional skills serve children well in the school years when reading complex material and learning to get along with others. In the preteen years, children whose families collaboratively discuss everyday events and family history more oen have higher self-esteem and stronger self-concepts. And adolescents with a stronger knowledge of family history have more robust identities, better coping skills, and lower rates of depression and anxiety. Family storytelling can help a child grow into a teen who feels connected to the important people in her life.
6. Best of all, unlike stories from books, family stories are always free and completely portable. You don’t even need to have the lights on to share with your child a story about your day, about their day, about your childhood or their grandma’s. In the research on family storytelling, all of these kinds of stories are linked to benefits for your child. Family stories can continue to be part of a parent’s daily interactions with their children into adolescence, long past the age of the bedtime story.
7. All families have stories to tell, regardless of their culture or their circumstances. Of course, not all of these stories are idyllic ones. Research shows that children and adolescents can learn a great deal from stories of life’s more difficult moments—as long as those stories are told in a way that is sensitive to the child’s level of understanding, and as long as something good is gleaned from the experience. . . .
8. Books contain narratives, but only family stories contain your family’s personal narratives. Fortunate children get both. They hear and read stories from books to become part of other people’s worlds, and they hear and tell stories of their family to understand who they are and from whence they came. . . .
9. The holidays are prime time for family storytelling. When you’re . . . having your holiday meal, share a story with your children about past holidays. Leave in the funny bits, the sad bits, the gory and smelly bits—kids can tell when a story has been sanitized for their protection. Then invite everyone else to tell a story too. Don’t forget the youngest and the oldest storytellers in the group. Their stories may not be as coherent, but they can be the truest, and the most revealing
10. Family stories can be told nearly anywhere. They cost us only our time, our memories, our creativity. They can inspire us, protect us, and bind us to others. So be generous with your stories, and be generous in your stories. Remember that your children may have them for a lifetime
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canon: collection
reminisce: remember past events in an enjoyable or emotionally warm way
idyllic: ideal or perfectly positive
coherent: clear
Dad is in the U.S. Army. Each Saturday he leads his two children, Esme and Ike, on a mission to make the best pancakes in the world.
Excerpt from 100 Days and 99 Nights
by Alan Madison
1. I am best at beating the batter, Ike is best at greasing the griddle, and Dad is, of course, far and away the finest flipper between here and just about anywhere. While we are working, Mom sits sipping coffee and reading the Drum & Bugle. She makes sure there are no mistakes in either the newspaper or the manner in which we prepare pancakes. Dad says she is a “super supervisor.”
2. To make sure our pancakes come out consistently top-dog tasty, it is extremely important to do everything precisely the same way it was done the Saturday before, the Saturday before that, and before that. To do that, we follow Dad’s pancake rules. . . .
3. Saturday mornings, when the cuckoo clock begins the first of eight cuckoos, Ike and I slip downstairs, drop our aprons over our heads, and tie the string over our bellies, each with the exact same double-looped bow. We try to finish before the mechanical bird sticks its tiny red-tufted head out to deliver the final high-pitched cuckoo.
4. While we wash our hands in the kitchen sink, Dad, in his green-and-yellow-squared flannel robe, rubbing the top of his buzz-cut head, pounds down the stairs. Blinking the sleep from his eyes, he inspects our cooking uniforms. When satisfied, he yawns, “Okay, troops, we are ready to cook.”
5. We salute, bringing our open right hands sharply to our foreheads and then karate chopping them down. This is military speak for “ready, willing, and able.” Dad says we should always end it with “sir, yes, sir,” to show the proper respect for a commanding officer.
6. “Sir, yes, sir!” Ike and I cry in unison.
7. “One cup flour,” he commands.
8. “Flour is made from flowers,” Ike states as usual.
9. Dad smiles and I roll my eyes around my head because every week Ike always swears that flour (F-L-O-U-R) is made from flowers (F-L-O-W-E-R-S) and that is why they are spelled differently. This makes zero sense, which is exactly Ike Sense, because then they should be spelled exactly the same! . . .
10. Under Dad’s watchful eye, we exact-measure and combine the salt and baking soda into the bowl. Then, trying not to make too much of a mess, we carefully measure out the wet ingredients: water, oil, and the top secretest ingredient —“Yogurt!” Ike yells. “Yogurt, yoooguurt!” he screams. Ike feels that yogurt is the absolute funniest word he has ever heard and as soon as dad starts spooning out the glistening white goo, he starts giggling and rolling the word out of his mouth, either drawing out the soft-sounding “yo” or cutting off the hard-syllabled “gurt” and sometimes even attempting to do both. “Yoooogrt!” Mom chuckles from behind the spread-open Drum & Bugle as Ike goes through his word acrobatics while I remain silent because I feel llama is an even funnier word.
11. Dad knows a lot of funny words, but during pancake making he is always partial to spatula. . . .
12. I wooden-spoon-mix together all the ingredients, from the Ike Sense-spelled flour to the somewhat funny-named yogurt, while Ike quick-drops pats of butter onto the hot griddle. Mom super-supervises this part, letting out an aaahh sound of approval each time Ike places a pat correctly and an ooo-ooo-ooo sound of disapproval each time his hand comes down too close to the stove.
13. Dad big-spoons batter onto the burning black metal. It flattens and soon little bubbles begin bursting. Aer we count out five of these tiny explosions, Dad does the famous fancy McCarther flip. He skillfully slides his “spaaatuulaaa” under one round and snaps his wrist, revealing both the colorful tattoo on his wide forearm and the brown cooked side of the perfect pancake.
14. A most definite Dad cooking rule is: “Neither a borrower nor a lender be.” This means that when it comes to a particular pancaking post, whether it is buttering, mixing, or flipping, you have your very own job to do, and you should never ever trade or even ask to trade—you just do your job. Our cooking tasks have become total no-brainers and given the excellent eating results, I have to say that Dad’s pancaking rules most definitely do work.
15. The short stacks are piled high on each of our plates, the maple syrup slow-flowed, and the only sounds heard are the rushed clicks and clacks of forks on plates and the rumble of satisfied ummms. . . .
16. This is an absolute authentic account of how every Saturday we, the Swishback McCarthers, would cook the tastiest pancakes in the whole world.
Rain Check
by Catherline Alene
Dad had to work
Straight through the day and into the night
Ringy cows wouldn’t load
Raced across the mesa with their heads in the air
5. I’d finally decided what I was going to make
Pizza
His favorite Heavy with meat and American cheese
His side
10. Veggies
No cheese
On mine
But it’s okay
He didn’t make it home
15. I hadn’t even started cooking when he called
I’d been standing in the kitchen
Staring into the refrigerator
Ignoring the sun melting red and gold behind the barn
Listening to Blue crunching his kibbles
20. Tags chinging off the edge of his metal food dish
When the phone had rung
“I’m so sorry. I’ll have to take a rain check. Go ahead and eat without me,” he’d said.
I understand, Dad.
25. We’ll do it again.
Next week.
It’s okay
Really
It
Is
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ringy cows: the cows’ bells ring as they run away from Dad
mesa: a flat-topped, elevated area
kibbles: pet food