International Liberty School

Weekly Packet 1
Name: ____________________________
Class: ____________________________
1st Week Study Guide
❖ Reading: Informational Text
▪ StudySync
Unit 5 : Fractured Selves
“The Postmaster” (Short story)

❖ Grammar:
▪ Sadlier Grammar for Writing
Chapter 16: Spelling
1. Spelling Rules
2. Prefixes and Suffixes.

❖ Listening:
• Conspiracy theories, stepping on the moon, and the presence of aliens

HW
• Literature and Vocabulary:
A literature is assigned to you on StudySync platform.

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• Grammar:
Your grammar HW in Sadlier Grammar for Writing:
P 327 : Editing and Proofreading Worksheet 1

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Independent Reading
from My Syrian Diary
Diary by Marah
April 15, 2014
My city was once magnificent. In spring, it bloomed. We used to wake up to the sound of
birds chirping and to the fragrant scent of flowers. Today, spring is here again. But what
kind of spring is this? We now wake up to the sound of falling bombs.

Every day, we open our eyes to our bleak reality: to the mortar shells that bring fear, death,
disease and destruction. It has robbed us of our loved ones, destroyed our special places,
hurt our close friends. Take my neighbor’s daughter. At just seven years old, she has lost
the ability to speak after a rocket landed close to our street.

Today, my city’s familiar face has been replaced by the suffering of its residents: the young
boy who has been exposed to chemical weapons and is unable to receive treatment. An old
man feels powerless after he lost his legs. A young man wears black sunglasses as if to hide
a severely scarred face that frightens children. A young woman is now blind after doctors
couldn’t extract the shrapnel from her eyes because they lacked the proper medical
equipment and medication.

The shelling has turned my city into a ghost town of decrepit buildings and charred trees.
Even our animals weren’t spared. You often see a limping dog, a dead cat or a bird
mourning its destroyed nest.

The bombings have not only altered my city’s face, but also fundamentally changed its
people.

During the hardest times, when bombs fell from the sky, we dreamed of bread. We
rationed our food intake to one meal a day, depending on whatever greens we could
find for sustenance.

I remember well the day cattle food, or fodder, was smuggled into the city. We milled the
animal feed to make dough. It didn’t take us long to get used to the bad taste and weird
texture of our new “bread.” It brought us a semblance of happiness with the little olives,
juice or yogurt—Syrian food staples— that we had. Our only concern was to eat. One can
never get used to sleeping on an empty stomach.

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Our collective will to eat meant we started getting creative with the cattle feed. We cooked
it as if we were cooking rice or wheat. We became so accustomed to it that we almost
forgot what chicken, meat and fruit looked like.

One of the hardest days was when we heard that a car carrying fruit and candy had entered
the city. At first, we were beyond thrilled, but our happiness was fleeting. The exorbitant
prices for the items on display meant no one could actually afford them.

That day, a young boy with holes in his shoes squeezed his mother’s hand as they passed by
the fruit car. He begged her for an apple. Holding back her tears, she promised to make him
“fodder cake” when they got home. Similarly, a father ignored the car carrying the goods
and picked up the pace as he dragged his daughter, who was demanding a banana or an
orange. Who would believe that the availability of fruit would be worse than the lack of it?
Is it not a child’s right to have an apple, a banana or a small piece of candy?

In this world, we have been stripped of our rights, starting with food. We try to entertain
ourselves to forget our hunger, but there is no power and it is difficult to be without
electricity after our lives once depended on it. I feel as if I’m living in the Stone Age. We
wash our laundry by hand and burn wood to keep warm. In this new world, everything we
know is gone. We miss the things we took for granted, like TVs and laptops.

Nowadays, the children refuse to stay indoors. My younger brother gets bored quickly, so
my mother keeps him busy by delegating him the task of breaking firewood. His small
hands have become thick and calloused. He executes his chore with anger and an air of
rebellion. He now lives with a prevailing sense of deprivation. His feelings, along with mine,
have altered without our knowledge or will.

I find myself forming a grudge against people who live outside my city. I wonder, why did
this happen to us? What fault have we committed to live this bitter reality? Why were our
childhoods stolen?

April 23, 2014

I begin my article by asking for help. I feel like I am lost in the middle of a rough sea. I don’t
know where these crushing waves might take me—to a safe place or to forgetfulness and
loss?
I am very concerned about my education. It’s my greatest priority. I grew up in a family that
appreciated education. They enrolled me in a kindergarten that I will never forget. It was
expensive, but my parents did not mind because all they cared about was to provide us
with the best education from the very beginning.

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I excelled in that kindergarten and went straight to second grade. My parents and
grandparents were proud of me and reinforced my self-confidence. Middle school was
fantastic. I drifted with my friends, and thanks to my always-conscious mom, who was my
savior during that critical preteen stage, I was able to obtain my middle school diploma.
I loved my school immensely and I loved my teachers—especially my Arabic teacher. I
adored the subject. School, for me, was like a playground or a picnic that I enjoyed with my
friends. My parents never hesitated to provide for my school; their goal was that I obtain
the best education, refine my personality and arm myself with a degree that would protect
me from misfortune.

Then high school took me from childhood to the beginning of maturity and awareness. As
the years went by, my fondness for my friends and my teachers had grown. I would see my
friends during vacations and share all my secrets with them. My friend Rahaf was the
closest to me. After she lost her mother, I watched her way of thinking change. She became
like a mother to her little siblings.

One year after the beginning of the revolution, the conditions in my city worsened and the
missiles intensified. My father decided that we should move out to a safer place. His only
concern was to protect his family. We moved to a completely new area and I enrolled in the
local school, which was a bad fit. But we had no other option. I formed some superficial
friendships, and during one semester, I did not even manage to open a book. I thought
constantly about my old friends and teachers, but staying in this new area was mandatory.

Finally, the condition deteriorated in the area where we resettled, which made my dad
decide to return to our old city again. My sister and I were very happy that we were going
home. But when we returned to our city, we were shocked by the amount of destruction.
The schools were all destroyed, and after a while they turned basements into classrooms so
we would be protected from the missiles.

These new schools were dark with dim lights similar to candles, and were smelly and had
very poor ventilation. They were hardly real “schools.” They felt more like ponds full of
diseases. My father refused to send us to such dungeons, but my mom insisted that we
should go. A new phase of concern started for them, right there. Do we invest time in such
schools that don’t even have accreditation?
Now I am trying to prepare for Syria’s standardized high school tests, but I don’t know
whether I will pass or whether my score will be officially recognized. Will I take the tests in
my city or somewhere else? Will my mom agree to let me go? So many questions stop me
from focusing on my studies. My mom refuses to send me out to any other neighborhood
because she fears checkpoints and the risks that a young lady like me might face. I’ve come
to hate the fact that I am a girl.

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Can you imagine that my mom, the one who always believed in the importance of
education and planted that belief in me, has suddenly changed? Her excuse comes down to
one sentence: “I worry for you.” I will never understand that fear or accept what she says.
My dream had been to enroll in university, choose a major I like and then start my career.
Can I still do that? I don’t know.

What happened? My mom used to push me forward. I want to study. I desire to live. I
desire what’s beautiful. I miss my teachers and my friends. They have all left the city. I miss
seeing the handsome boys gathering in front of my school. When I was little I liked
dreaming big, but now my dreams are fading away. My dreams are limited by the
checkpoints. Isn’t there someone to help my voice be heard?
Everyone is busy with the war, and it seems like no one cares. We don’t know how this will
end or how it will affect us. I want life, but not this troubled and confusing life that I live
now. I want to complete my studies. I don’t want to be a neglected period on the margin. I
do not want to lose my dreams. Help!

May 1, 2014
In my city, guys and girls have undergone a radical change. Everything has changed: their
opinions, their aspirations, the way they talk, their expressions and even the way they look.
Before, we used to have great conversations. We loved music from the West as well as local
music, and we would race to listen to the newest albums. We loved movies of all kinds and
in all languages, especially the comedies. We were interested in fashion and design.
We were attracted to anything that was new. We lived a wonderful life. We made
adolescent mistakes.
Now we have turned into old women. Our conversations are all about our daily suffering.
Our conversations are now about food, electricity, water and firewood. There is no cell
phone coverage and no television. We are deprived of our teenage pastimes.
Shopping was one of my favorite activities. We used to go window shopping after school.
We used to get excited about a colorful purse or shiny shoes. Now we get that excited
about a rare treat, a dessert— even just fruit. Can you believe it?! We never expected this
to happen!

Even the boys have changed. We used to see them around school, carrying flowers and
wrapped presents, wearing their nicest clothes. Their eyes were filled with love, happiness
and hope. But now, the street around the school is empty because all the guys are out
fighting on the front lines. When we happen to see them, they usually have shaggy hair and
dusty shoes, carrying rifles instead of roses. If you look at their faces, all you see is worry
and frustration. Because of our horrible reality, they have lost their hope for the future.
We have been deprived of fully living this period of our lives. Everything has turned upside
down. Everyone is depressed. Sometimes we laugh and cry at the same moment. How did
this damned war do this to us?
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I feel sorry for myself and for all my fellow Syrian youth. I hope that the current situation
changes so that our souls and dreams might awaken. I’m afraid we will regret living this
period without our rites of passage, not living youth as it is meant to be lived. Will the war
impact us for the rest of our lives? How will we make up for what we’ve lost? Everything is
unknown.

• Answer the following questions:

1. Which of the following is true?

a) Marah’s mother loses faith in education as a result of the war.
b) Marah resents the war because it has forced her to grow up quickly.
c) Marah’s life improves after her father moves the family back to their old
neighborhood.
d) Marah hates being a girl because girls cannot fight in the war.

2. Which question best expresses Marah’s uncertainty about the future?

a) Why were our childhoods stolen?
b) Isn’t there someone to help my voice be heard?
c) How did this damned war do this to us?
d) How will we make up for what we’ve lost?

3. Why does Marah’s mother say “I worry for you”?

a) She knows that the quality of Marah’s education is suffering.
b) She wishes that Marah could have a normal teenage life.
c) She is concerned about Marah’s physical safety in the city.
d) She is afraid that Marah will give up her hopes and dreams.

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