Exam Revision: Cultural Cry
Extract from ‘Roll of Thunder, Hear My Cry’ by Mildred D. Taylor
'Little Man, would you come on! You keep it up and you're gonna make us late.'
My youngest brother paid no attention to me. Grasping more firmly his newspaper-wrapped notebook and his tin
can lunch of cornbread and oil sausages, he continued to concentrate on the dusty road. He lagged several feet
behind my other brothers, Stacey and Christopher-John, and me, attempting to keep the rusty Mississippi dust from
swelling with each step and drifting back upon his shiny black shoes and the cuffs of his corduroy pants by lifting
each foot high before setting it gently down again. Always meticulously neat, six-year old Little Man never allowed
dirt or tears or stains to mar anything he owned. Today was no exception.
'You keep it up and make us late for school, Mama's gonna wear you out.' I threatened, pulling with exasperation at
the high collar of the Sunday dress Mama had made me wear for the first day of school - as if that event were
something special. It seemed to me that showing up at school at all on a bright August-like October morning made
for running the cool forest trails and wading barefoot in the forest pond was concession enough; Sunday clothing
was asking too much. Christopher-John and Stacey were not too pleased about the clothing or school either. Only
Little Man, just beginning his school career, found the prospects of both intriguing.
'Y'all go ahead and get dirty if y'all wanna,' he replied without even looking up from his studied steps, 'Me, I'm gonna
stay clean.'
‘I betcha Mama's gonna "clean" you, you keep it up.' I grumbled.
‘Ah, Cassie, leave him be,' Stacey admonished, frowning and kicking testily at the road.
‘I ain't said nothing but..’
Stacey cut me a wicked look and I grew silent. His disposition had been irritatingly sour lately. If I hadn't known the
cause of it. I could have forgotten very easily that he was at twelve, bigger than I, and that I had promised Mama to
arrive at school looking clean and ladylike. 'Shoot,' I mumbled finally, unable to restrain myself from further
comment, 'it ain't my fault you gotta be in Mama's class this year.'
Stacey's frown deepened and he jammed his fists into his pockets, but said nothing.
Christopher-John, walking between Stacey and me, glanced uneasily at both of us but did not interfere. A short,
round boy of seven, he took little interest in troublesome things, preferring to remain on good terms with everyone,
Yet he was always sensitive to others and now, shifting the handle of his lunch can from his right hand to his right
wrist and his smudged notebook from his left hand to his left armpit. He stuffed his free hands into his pockets and
attempted to make his face as moody as Stacey's and as cranky as mine. But after a few moments he seemed to
forget that he was supposed to be grouchy and began whistling cheerfully. There was little that could make
Christopher-John unhappy for very long, not even the thought of school.
Your questions will be about:
1. how well you understand the extract and read the question carefully
2. how successfully you can spot language techniques
3. how successfully you can spot structural techniques
4. how well you can give your opinion on the text
Overleaf is what the questions will look like. There is guidance underneath each one; you must have a go at each
one, spending time getting it right. This is exactly how you should tackle the assessment.
