Post by mrcaldicott on Oct 10, 2014 9:38:19 GMT
Six absentees: Please print out and highlight the words in the article - a different highlighted colour for each technique. Then, on a seperate piece of paper for each technique, write the title of the article and the technique (e.g. word choice), then copy out the word and analyse it based on the general purpose (Entertain, Persuade etc.) of the article.
S5 Higher English – Close Reading
Homework
Write the following headings, using a different page for each one:
PURPOSE OF ARTICLE?
(Persuade Entertain Discuss Inform Argue – PEDIA)
GLOSSARY
(Words I don’t know – look up and write definition!)
WORD CHOICE
(Select some words with strong connotations and explain how they add to the writer’s purpose)
IMAGERY
(Find, quote and explain how any imagery works – simile; metaphor; personification)
TONE
(There may be several: identify them and explain how they are created)
SENTENCE STRUCTURE
(Spot any relevant sentence structure techniques and explain why / how they’re effective)
ARTICLE BELOW - COPY AND PASTE INTO WORD / NOTEPAD IN A LARGER FONT AND PRINT OUT
* * *
A bird, a plane…Not-So-Super Woman!
Amidst the chaos of our everyday lives, Frances Whiting helps us to understand that we don’t all have to be superheroes.
Pop. That was it. With all the cruelty that a single zipper could muster, my fantasy was shattered. No more bikinis showing off my washboard stomach, super-slim thighs and (if I may say so) my rather impressive chest. No more figure-hugging ‘little black dresses’. And absolutely, definitely no more racy lingerie.
That burst zipper switched on a thousand spotlights, illuminating not the body of my 20’s, but instead, a sack of cellulite and a baker’s dozen of stomach rolls. Needless to say, I didn’t buy the dress. Are there other women out there who have had their attention drawn so scathingly to the wilting of their own body? Yes. But are there many who actually admit to it?
It takes real guts to confess that, yes, you have tried to fit into a size 10 dress and yes, you did have a bit of a shock seeing some sort of walrus grinning back foolishly in the mirror. It would be fair to say that at moments like these, a girl needs a hero.
Not Superman, or even Wonder Woman. We need someone real, someone who doesn’t look ridiculously good in red hot pants. Someone who comes to you in times of need, lycra straining uncomfortably over broad hips and cape slightly askew, shadows of grubby little fingerprints on the hem.
We need Whiting, Frances Whiting. Our Not-So-Super Woman. When I read Whiting, I know that I don’t have to look like Elle MacPherson, I don’t have to raise my kids like Super Nanny, and I don’t have to be married to a gorgeous male model. In any case, I couldn’t imagine having to share the bathroom mirror with the taut, golden abs of a Calvin Klein underwear model anyway – it would be too much to stomach.
For nine years, Whiting’s faithful following has eagerly devoured her weekly column in The Sunday Mail, and I know I speak on behalf of women everywhere when I say, “Frances, thank you for your honesty.” Finally, we have a woman in the public eye readily, unashamedly and heroically admitting to physical flaws, parenting inadequacies and more, while still maintaining an affable, humorous persona in her work. This easy, unforced connection to everyday people means that Whiting is a people-magnet to The Sunday Mail, enticing even more readers to the newspaper than if she did happen to possess supernatural powers.
Unquestionably, we can consider Whiting a master of sarcasm, and as readers, this is of particular importance in determining her personal values. In the article “Fair go, it’s wages” (02/11/08), Whiting explores the current rates of pocket money and derisively remarks that she would never give a child $20 for one tooth “unless [it] contained enough gold filling to melt down and make it worthwhile at the pawn shop.”
As sarcasm plays a huge role in Australian humour, the regular Not-So-Super parent can appreciate this mockery of the over-indulgence of children. In this article, it quickly becomes evident that Whiting maintains the somewhat anachronistic values of her own youth, such as a fond appreciation for the simple and basic ‘requirements’ of childhood. Furthermore, the championing of such values again helps audiences relate to the everyday topics of Whiting’s columns, as she writes for her own demographic (the other Not-So-Supers of Australia), the majority of which would have experienced a similar stone-age upbringing, thus holding similar values.
Additionally, Whiting endows her readers with a strong sense of nostalgia as she connects them with their childhood past. It is this ability to relate to the audience that allows Whiting to bond with her readership so effortlessly.
On the other hand, as an easily influenced and, embarrassingly, an undeniably conforming audience, we are less likely to argue with Whiting’s attitude towards issues if our hero implements a technique that effectively tells us, “This is stupid. If you do this, you are stupid.” Being the inquisitive and competitive creatures we are, parents will no doubt be drawn to The Sunday Mail each week, if not only to make sure they aren’t ‘stupid’ in Whiting’s opinion.
Even if they are, we Aussies love to laugh at ourselves. In a similar fashion, our hero uses hyperbole to make her life sans superpowers seem all the more interesting. Her description of ‘Babyland’ (18/01/09), though blatantly exaggerated, communicates her belief that raising a baby is indeed a difficult and often surreal task in a place where “whole days, weeks, even months can go by without you realising it.”
Admitting to this fact again connects Whiting to her readers, as I know I speak on behalf of other Not-So-Supers when I say it’s refreshing to hear a public figure actually struggling with a baby instead of those extra 2.37 kilograms put on during pregnancy. We can thus see that Whiting writes for reality, and in reality, it is human nature to exaggerate. This natural reflex means that we can appreciate the use of hyperbole all the more, and so Whiting’s amusing twists on current events and the vicissitudes of everyday life continue to draw her loyal audience to The Sunday Mail, just as fans of old-school superheroes like The Phantom used to wait with bated breath for the next instalment of his adventures.
We’re curious – we want to know how our hero copes with the same events that we all grapple with daily. And when her reaction is the same, albeit often pushed to the realms of the absurd, we have proof that it’s alright and, above all, normal to be a Not-So-Super person.
Whiting again shows just how ‘Not Super’ she is by consistently writing in a self-deprecating fashion. We hear enough about celebrities with endless talents; sometimes we want to know someone else’s failures in order to compare and relate them to our own. After all, is it not classic Australian humour to laugh at ourselves? Whiting does not deny us that opportunity; she inundates us with stories making fun of her physical appearance, awful driving, and obvious lack of public speaking skills.
This self-deprecation is the attitude we’ve come to know and love from Whiting, as it proves that she isn’t your traditional, perfectly sculpted superhero. She’s another human being, just like us, helping her readers to cope with their everyday experinces.
So the next time you’re moaning in front of the mirror, decrying those unsightly bulges and recalcitrant hair, it may be time for a visit from Not-So-Super Woman Whiting. She’ll have you laughing at your thunder thighs in no time.
My advice to Wonder Woman is – if those pants ever get too tight, don’t despair – Whiting will be right there for you.
S5 Higher English – Close Reading
Homework
Write the following headings, using a different page for each one:
PURPOSE OF ARTICLE?
(Persuade Entertain Discuss Inform Argue – PEDIA)
GLOSSARY
(Words I don’t know – look up and write definition!)
WORD CHOICE
(Select some words with strong connotations and explain how they add to the writer’s purpose)
IMAGERY
(Find, quote and explain how any imagery works – simile; metaphor; personification)
TONE
(There may be several: identify them and explain how they are created)
SENTENCE STRUCTURE
(Spot any relevant sentence structure techniques and explain why / how they’re effective)
ARTICLE BELOW - COPY AND PASTE INTO WORD / NOTEPAD IN A LARGER FONT AND PRINT OUT
* * *
A bird, a plane…Not-So-Super Woman!
Amidst the chaos of our everyday lives, Frances Whiting helps us to understand that we don’t all have to be superheroes.
Pop. That was it. With all the cruelty that a single zipper could muster, my fantasy was shattered. No more bikinis showing off my washboard stomach, super-slim thighs and (if I may say so) my rather impressive chest. No more figure-hugging ‘little black dresses’. And absolutely, definitely no more racy lingerie.
That burst zipper switched on a thousand spotlights, illuminating not the body of my 20’s, but instead, a sack of cellulite and a baker’s dozen of stomach rolls. Needless to say, I didn’t buy the dress. Are there other women out there who have had their attention drawn so scathingly to the wilting of their own body? Yes. But are there many who actually admit to it?
It takes real guts to confess that, yes, you have tried to fit into a size 10 dress and yes, you did have a bit of a shock seeing some sort of walrus grinning back foolishly in the mirror. It would be fair to say that at moments like these, a girl needs a hero.
Not Superman, or even Wonder Woman. We need someone real, someone who doesn’t look ridiculously good in red hot pants. Someone who comes to you in times of need, lycra straining uncomfortably over broad hips and cape slightly askew, shadows of grubby little fingerprints on the hem.
We need Whiting, Frances Whiting. Our Not-So-Super Woman. When I read Whiting, I know that I don’t have to look like Elle MacPherson, I don’t have to raise my kids like Super Nanny, and I don’t have to be married to a gorgeous male model. In any case, I couldn’t imagine having to share the bathroom mirror with the taut, golden abs of a Calvin Klein underwear model anyway – it would be too much to stomach.
For nine years, Whiting’s faithful following has eagerly devoured her weekly column in The Sunday Mail, and I know I speak on behalf of women everywhere when I say, “Frances, thank you for your honesty.” Finally, we have a woman in the public eye readily, unashamedly and heroically admitting to physical flaws, parenting inadequacies and more, while still maintaining an affable, humorous persona in her work. This easy, unforced connection to everyday people means that Whiting is a people-magnet to The Sunday Mail, enticing even more readers to the newspaper than if she did happen to possess supernatural powers.
Unquestionably, we can consider Whiting a master of sarcasm, and as readers, this is of particular importance in determining her personal values. In the article “Fair go, it’s wages” (02/11/08), Whiting explores the current rates of pocket money and derisively remarks that she would never give a child $20 for one tooth “unless [it] contained enough gold filling to melt down and make it worthwhile at the pawn shop.”
As sarcasm plays a huge role in Australian humour, the regular Not-So-Super parent can appreciate this mockery of the over-indulgence of children. In this article, it quickly becomes evident that Whiting maintains the somewhat anachronistic values of her own youth, such as a fond appreciation for the simple and basic ‘requirements’ of childhood. Furthermore, the championing of such values again helps audiences relate to the everyday topics of Whiting’s columns, as she writes for her own demographic (the other Not-So-Supers of Australia), the majority of which would have experienced a similar stone-age upbringing, thus holding similar values.
Additionally, Whiting endows her readers with a strong sense of nostalgia as she connects them with their childhood past. It is this ability to relate to the audience that allows Whiting to bond with her readership so effortlessly.
On the other hand, as an easily influenced and, embarrassingly, an undeniably conforming audience, we are less likely to argue with Whiting’s attitude towards issues if our hero implements a technique that effectively tells us, “This is stupid. If you do this, you are stupid.” Being the inquisitive and competitive creatures we are, parents will no doubt be drawn to The Sunday Mail each week, if not only to make sure they aren’t ‘stupid’ in Whiting’s opinion.
Even if they are, we Aussies love to laugh at ourselves. In a similar fashion, our hero uses hyperbole to make her life sans superpowers seem all the more interesting. Her description of ‘Babyland’ (18/01/09), though blatantly exaggerated, communicates her belief that raising a baby is indeed a difficult and often surreal task in a place where “whole days, weeks, even months can go by without you realising it.”
Admitting to this fact again connects Whiting to her readers, as I know I speak on behalf of other Not-So-Supers when I say it’s refreshing to hear a public figure actually struggling with a baby instead of those extra 2.37 kilograms put on during pregnancy. We can thus see that Whiting writes for reality, and in reality, it is human nature to exaggerate. This natural reflex means that we can appreciate the use of hyperbole all the more, and so Whiting’s amusing twists on current events and the vicissitudes of everyday life continue to draw her loyal audience to The Sunday Mail, just as fans of old-school superheroes like The Phantom used to wait with bated breath for the next instalment of his adventures.
We’re curious – we want to know how our hero copes with the same events that we all grapple with daily. And when her reaction is the same, albeit often pushed to the realms of the absurd, we have proof that it’s alright and, above all, normal to be a Not-So-Super person.
Whiting again shows just how ‘Not Super’ she is by consistently writing in a self-deprecating fashion. We hear enough about celebrities with endless talents; sometimes we want to know someone else’s failures in order to compare and relate them to our own. After all, is it not classic Australian humour to laugh at ourselves? Whiting does not deny us that opportunity; she inundates us with stories making fun of her physical appearance, awful driving, and obvious lack of public speaking skills.
This self-deprecation is the attitude we’ve come to know and love from Whiting, as it proves that she isn’t your traditional, perfectly sculpted superhero. She’s another human being, just like us, helping her readers to cope with their everyday experinces.
So the next time you’re moaning in front of the mirror, decrying those unsightly bulges and recalcitrant hair, it may be time for a visit from Not-So-Super Woman Whiting. She’ll have you laughing at your thunder thighs in no time.
My advice to Wonder Woman is – if those pants ever get too tight, don’t despair – Whiting will be right there for you.