from Speak, SanctuaryArt follows lunch, like dream follows nightmare. The classroom is at the far end of the building and has long, south-facing windows. The sun doesn’t shine much in Syracuse, so the art room is designed to get every bit of light it can. It is dusty in a clean-dirt kind of way. The floor is layered with dry splotches of paint, the walls plastered with sketches of tormented teenagers and fat puppies, the shelves crowded with clay pots. A radio plays my favorite station.Mr. Freeman is ugly. Big old grasshopper body, like a stilt-walking circus guy. Nose like a credit card sunk between his eyes. But he smiles at us as we file into class.He is hunched over a spinning pot, his hands muddy red. “Welcome to the only class that will teach you how to survive,” he says. “Welcome to Art.”I sit at a table close to his desk. Ivy is in this class. She sits by the door. I keep staring at her, trying to make her look at me. That happens in movies—people can feel it when other people stare at them and they just have to turn around and say something. Either Ivy has a great force field, or my laser vision isn’t very strong. She won’t look back at me. I wish I could sit with her. She knows art.Mr. Freeman turns off the wheel and grabs a piece of chalk without washing his hands. “SOUL,” he writes on the board. The clay streaks the word like dried blood. “This is where you can find your soul, if you dare. Where you can touch that part of you that you’ve never dared look at before. Do not come here and ask me to show you how to draw a face. Ask me to help you find the wind.”I sneak a peek behind me. The eyebrow telegraph is flashing fast. This guy is weird. He must see it, he must know what we are thinking. He keeps on talking. He says we will graduate knowing how to read and write because we’ll spend a million hours learning how to read and write. (I could argue that point.)Mr. Freeman: “Why not spend that time on art: painting, sculpting, charcoal, pastel, oils? Are words or numbers more important than images? Who decided this? Does algebra move you to tears?” (Hands raise, thinking he wants answers.) “Can the plural possessive express the feelings in your heart? If you don’t learn art now, you will never learn to breathe!!!”There is more. For someone who questions the value of words, he sure uses a lot of them. I tune out for a while and come back when he holds up a huge globe that is missing half of the Northern Hemisphere. “Can anyone tell me what this is?” he asks. “A globe?” ventures a voice in the back. Mr. Freeman rolls his eyes. “Was it an expensive sculpture that some kid dropped and he had to pay for it out of his own money or they didn’t let him graduate?” asks another.Mr. Freeman sighs. “No imagination. What are you, thirteen? Fourteen? You’ve already let them beat your creativity out of you! This is an old globe I used to let my daughters kick around my studio when it was too wet to play outside. One day Jenny put her foot right through Texas, and the United States crumbled into the sea. And voilà—an idea! This broken ball could be used to express such powerful visions—you could paint a picture of it with people fleeing from the hole, with a wet-muzzled dog chewing Alaska—the opportunities are endless. It’s almost too much, but you are important enough to give it to.”Huh?“You will each pick a piece of paper out of the globe.” He walks around the room so we can pull red scraps from the center of the earth. “On the paper you will find one word, the name of an object. I hope you like it. You will spend the rest of the year learning how to turn that object into a piece of art. You will sculpt it. You will sketch it, papier-mâché it, carve it. If the computer teacher is talking to me this year, you can use the lab for computer-aided designs. But there’s a catch—by the end of the year, you must figure out how to make your object say something, express an emotion, speak to every person who looks at it.”Some people groan. My stomach flutters. Can he really let us do this? It sounds like too much fun. He stops at my table. I plunge my hand into the bottom of the globe and fish out my paper. “Tree.” Tree? It’s too easy. I learned how to draw a tree in second grade. I reach in for another piece of paper. Mr. Freeman shakes his head. “Ah-ah-ah,” he says. “You just chose your destiny, you can’t change that.”He pulls a bucket of clay from under the pottery wheel, breaks off fist-sized balls, and tosses one to each of us. Then he turns up the radio and laughs. “Welcome to the journey.”—by Laurie Halse AndersonFrom Melinda’s point of view, Mr. Freeman’s Art class isaintriguing bpointlesscstressful damusing

A melody is heard, played upon a flute. . . .telling of grass and trees and the horizon. . . . Before us is the Salesman's house. We are aware of towering, angular shapes behindit, surrounding it on all sides. Only the blue light of the sky falls upon the house . . .the surrounding area shows an angry glow of orange. As more light appears, we seea solid vault of apartment houses around the small, fragile-seeming home. An air*of the dream clings to the place, a dream rising out of reality. . . . * *Willy Loman, the Salesman, enters . . . The flute plays on. . . . He hears but is not aware of it.. . . * LINDA(hearing Willy outside the bedroom, calls with some trepidation)Willy! WILLYIt’s all right. I came back. LINDAWhy? What happened?(Slight pause.)Did something happen, Willy? WILLYNo, nothing happened.     5 LINDAYou didn’t smash the car, did you? WILLY(with casual irritation)I said nothing happened. Didn’t you hear me? LINDADon’t you feel well? WILLYI’m tired to the death.(The flute has faded away. . . . .)I couldn’t make it. I just couldn’t make it, Linda . . .     10I stopped for a cup of coffee. Maybe it was the coffee. LINDAWhat? WILLY(after a pause)I suddenly couldn’t drive any more. The car kept going off onto the shoulder, y’know? LINDA(helpfully)Oh. Maybe it was the steering again. . . . WILLYNo, it’s me, it’s me. . . . I can’t seem to — keep my mind to it.     15 LINDAMaybe it’s your glasses. You never went for your new glasses. WILLYNo, I see everything. . . .(with wonder)I was driving along, you understand? And I was fine. I was even observing thescenery. You can imagine, me looking at scenery, on the road every week of mylife. But it’s so beautiful up there, Linda, the trees are so thick, and the sun is     20warm. I opened the windshield and just let the warm air bathe over me. And thenall of a sudden I’m goin’ off the road! I’m tellin’ ya, I absolutely forgot I was driving. . . . LINDAWilly, dear. Talk to them again. There’s no reason why you can’t work in New York. WILLYThey don’t need me in New York. I’m the New England man. I’m vital in New England. LINDABut you’re sixty years old. They can’t expect you to keep traveling every week . . .     25Why don’t you go down to the place tomorrow and tell Howard you’ve simply gotto work in New York? You’re too accommodating, dear. WILLYIf old man Wagner was alive I’d a been in charge of New York now! But that boy of his,that Howard, he don’t appreciate. When I went north the first time, the WagnerCompany didn’t know where New England was!     30 LINDAWhy don’t you tell those things to Howard, dear? . . . WILLYFigure it out. Work a lifetime to pay off a house. You finally own it, and there’s nobody tolive in it. LINDAWell, dear, life is a casting off. It’s always that way. WILLYNo, no, some people-- some people accomplish something. Did Biff say anything     35after I went this morning? LINDAYou shouldn’t have criticized him, Willy, especially after he just got off the train.You mustn’t lose your temper with him. WILLYWhen the hell did I lose my temper? I simply asked him if he was making anymoney. Is that a criticism?     40In the beginning, when he was young, I thought, well, a young man, it’s good forhim to tramp around, take a lot of different jobs. But it’s more than ten years nowand he has yet to make thirty-five dollars a week! . . .The trouble is he’s lazy, goddammit! . . . Biff is a lazy bum! . . . LINDAI think he’s still lost, Willy. I think he’s very lost.     45 WILLYBiff Loman is lost. In the greatest country in the world a young man withsuch — personal attractiveness, gets lost. And such a hard worker. There’s onething about Biff — he’s not lazy.Miller, Arthur. Death of a Salesman. Pelister.og, N.D. Web. 20 September 2016.Willy's comments in lines 18-22 ("I was . . . driving") suggest that WillyElimination ToolSelect one answerAneeds a vacation.Bhas never driven that route before.Chas his mind on a tough problem and forgets about driving.Dis falling asleep at the wheel.Efeels trapped by the demands of his job.

A melody is heard, played upon a flute. . . .telling of grass and trees and the horizon. . . . Before us is the Salesman's house. We are aware of towering, angular shapes behindit, surrounding it on all sides. Only the blue light of the sky falls upon the house . . .the surrounding area shows an angry glow of orange. As more light appears, we seea solid vault of apartment houses around the small, fragile-seeming home. An air*of the dream clings to the place, a dream rising out of reality. . . . * *Willy Loman, the Salesman, enters . . . The flute plays on. . . . He hears but is not aware of it.. . . * LINDA(hearing Willy outside the bedroom, calls with some trepidation)Willy! WILLYIt’s all right. I came back. LINDAWhy? What happened?(Slight pause.)Did something happen, Willy? WILLYNo, nothing happened.     5 LINDAYou didn’t smash the car, did you? WILLY(with casual irritation)I said nothing happened. Didn’t you hear me? LINDADon’t you feel well? WILLYI’m tired to the death.(The flute has faded away. . . . .)I couldn’t make it. I just couldn’t make it, Linda . . .     10I stopped for a cup of coffee. Maybe it was the coffee. LINDAWhat? WILLY(after a pause)I suddenly couldn’t drive any more. The car kept going off onto the shoulder, y’know? LINDA(helpfully)Oh. Maybe it was the steering again. . . . WILLYNo, it’s me, it’s me. . . . I can’t seem to — keep my mind to it.     15 LINDAMaybe it’s your glasses. You never went for your new glasses. WILLYNo, I see everything. . . .(with wonder)I was driving along, you understand? And I was fine. I was even observing thescenery. You can imagine, me looking at scenery, on the road every week of mylife. But it’s so beautiful up there, Linda, the trees are so thick, and the sun is     20warm. I opened the windshield and just let the warm air bathe over me. And thenall of a sudden I’m goin’ off the road! I’m tellin’ ya, I absolutely forgot I was driving. . . . LINDAWilly, dear. Talk to them again. There’s no reason why you can’t work in New York. WILLYThey don’t need me in New York. I’m the New England man. I’m vital in New England. LINDABut you’re sixty years old. They can’t expect you to keep traveling every week . . .     25Why don’t you go down to the place tomorrow and tell Howard you’ve simply gotto work in New York? You’re too accommodating, dear. WILLYIf old man Wagner was alive I’d a been in charge of New York now! But that boy of his,that Howard, he don’t appreciate. When I went north the first time, the WagnerCompany didn’t know where New England was!     30 LINDAWhy don’t you tell those things to Howard, dear? . . . WILLYFigure it out. Work a lifetime to pay off a house. You finally own it, and there’s nobody tolive in it. LINDAWell, dear, life is a casting off. It’s always that way. WILLYNo, no, some people-- some people accomplish something. Did Biff say anything     35after I went this morning? LINDAYou shouldn’t have criticized him, Willy, especially after he just got off the train.You mustn’t lose your temper with him. WILLYWhen the hell did I lose my temper? I simply asked him if he was making anymoney. Is that a criticism?     40In the beginning, when he was young, I thought, well, a young man, it’s good forhim to tramp around, take a lot of different jobs. But it’s more than ten years nowand he has yet to make thirty-five dollars a week! . . .The trouble is he’s lazy, goddammit! . . . Biff is a lazy bum! . . . LINDAI think he’s still lost, Willy. I think he’s very lost.     45 WILLYBiff Loman is lost. In the greatest country in the world a young man withsuch — personal attractiveness, gets lost. And such a hard worker. There’s onething about Biff — he’s not lazy.Miller, Arthur. Death of a Salesman. Pelister.og, N.D. Web. 20 September 2016.The initial stage directions suggest all of the following contrasts EXCEPT?Elimination ToolSelect one answerAPastoral vs. urban.BProsperity vs. decline.CIllusion vs. reality.DCreativity vs. practicality.EPeacefulness vs. turbulence.

A melody is heard, played upon a flute. . . .telling of grass and trees and the horizon. . . . Before us is the Salesman's house. We are aware of towering, angular shapes behindit, surrounding it on all sides. Only the blue light of the sky falls upon the house . . .the surrounding area shows an angry glow of orange. As more light appears, we seea solid vault of apartment houses around the small, fragile-seeming home. An air*of the dream clings to the place, a dream rising out of reality. . . . * *Willy Loman, the Salesman, enters . . . The flute plays on. . . . He hears but is not aware of it.. . . * LINDA(hearing Willy outside the bedroom, calls with some trepidation)Willy! WILLYIt’s all right. I came back. LINDAWhy? What happened?(Slight pause.)Did something happen, Willy? WILLYNo, nothing happened.     5 LINDAYou didn’t smash the car, did you? WILLY(with casual irritation)I said nothing happened. Didn’t you hear me? LINDADon’t you feel well? WILLYI’m tired to the death.(The flute has faded away. . . . .)I couldn’t make it. I just couldn’t make it, Linda . . .     10I stopped for a cup of coffee. Maybe it was the coffee. LINDAWhat? WILLY(after a pause)I suddenly couldn’t drive any more. The car kept going off onto the shoulder, y’know? LINDA(helpfully)Oh. Maybe it was the steering again. . . . WILLYNo, it’s me, it’s me. . . . I can’t seem to — keep my mind to it.     15 LINDAMaybe it’s your glasses. You never went for your new glasses. WILLYNo, I see everything. . . .(with wonder)I was driving along, you understand? And I was fine. I was even observing thescenery. You can imagine, me looking at scenery, on the road every week of mylife. But it’s so beautiful up there, Linda, the trees are so thick, and the sun is     20warm. I opened the windshield and just let the warm air bathe over me. And thenall of a sudden I’m goin’ off the road! I’m tellin’ ya, I absolutely forgot I was driving. . . . LINDAWilly, dear. Talk to them again. There’s no reason why you can’t work in New York. WILLYThey don’t need me in New York. I’m the New England man. I’m vital in New England. LINDABut you’re sixty years old. They can’t expect you to keep traveling every week . . .     25Why don’t you go down to the place tomorrow and tell Howard you’ve simply gotto work in New York? You’re too accommodating, dear. WILLYIf old man Wagner was alive I’d a been in charge of New York now! But that boy of his,that Howard, he don’t appreciate. When I went north the first time, the WagnerCompany didn’t know where New England was!     30 LINDAWhy don’t you tell those things to Howard, dear? . . . WILLYFigure it out. Work a lifetime to pay off a house. You finally own it, and there’s nobody tolive in it. LINDAWell, dear, life is a casting off. It’s always that way. WILLYNo, no, some people-- some people accomplish something. Did Biff say anything     35after I went this morning? LINDAYou shouldn’t have criticized him, Willy, especially after he just got off the train.You mustn’t lose your temper with him. WILLYWhen the hell did I lose my temper? I simply asked him if he was making anymoney. Is that a criticism?     40In the beginning, when he was young, I thought, well, a young man, it’s good forhim to tramp around, take a lot of different jobs. But it’s more than ten years nowand he has yet to make thirty-five dollars a week! . . .The trouble is he’s lazy, goddammit! . . . Biff is a lazy bum! . . . LINDAI think he’s still lost, Willy. I think he’s very lost.     45 WILLYBiff Loman is lost. In the greatest country in the world a young man withsuch — personal attractiveness, gets lost. And such a hard worker. There’s onething about Biff — he’s not lazy.Miller, Arthur. Death of a Salesman. Pelister.og, N.D. Web. 20 September 2016.Linda's comments in lines 23 and 25-27 primarily reveal thatElimination ToolSelect one answerAshe thinks Willy is overreacting.Bshe understands why Willy is having difficulty driving.Cshe feels that there are unfair demands on Willy.Dshe is irritated by Willy's lack of drive.Eshe supports Willy without question.

A melody is heard, played upon a flute. . . .telling of grass and trees and the horizon. . . . Before us is the Salesman's house. We are aware of towering, angular shapes behindit, surrounding it on all sides. Only the blue light of the sky falls upon the house . . .the surrounding area shows an angry glow of orange. As more light appears, we seea solid vault of apartment houses around the small, fragile-seeming home. An air*of the dream clings to the place, a dream rising out of reality. . . . * *Willy Loman, the Salesman, enters . . . The flute plays on. . . . He hears but is not aware of it.. . . * LINDA(hearing Willy outside the bedroom, calls with some trepidation)Willy! WILLYIt’s all right. I came back. LINDAWhy? What happened?(Slight pause.)Did something happen, Willy? WILLYNo, nothing happened.     5 LINDAYou didn’t smash the car, did you? WILLY(with casual irritation)I said nothing happened. Didn’t you hear me? LINDADon’t you feel well? WILLYI’m tired to the death.(The flute has faded away. . . . .)I couldn’t make it. I just couldn’t make it, Linda . . .     10I stopped for a cup of coffee. Maybe it was the coffee. LINDAWhat? WILLY(after a pause)I suddenly couldn’t drive any more. The car kept going off onto the shoulder, y’know? LINDA(helpfully)Oh. Maybe it was the steering again. . . . WILLYNo, it’s me, it’s me. . . . I can’t seem to — keep my mind to it.     15 LINDAMaybe it’s your glasses. You never went for your new glasses. WILLYNo, I see everything. . . .(with wonder)I was driving along, you understand? And I was fine. I was even observing thescenery. You can imagine, me looking at scenery, on the road every week of mylife. But it’s so beautiful up there, Linda, the trees are so thick, and the sun is     20warm. I opened the windshield and just let the warm air bathe over me. And thenall of a sudden I’m goin’ off the road! I’m tellin’ ya, I absolutely forgot I was driving. . . . LINDAWilly, dear. Talk to them again. There’s no reason why you can’t work in New York. WILLYThey don’t need me in New York. I’m the New England man. I’m vital in New England. LINDABut you’re sixty years old. They can’t expect you to keep traveling every week . . .     25Why don’t you go down to the place tomorrow and tell Howard you’ve simply gotto work in New York? You’re too accommodating, dear. WILLYIf old man Wagner was alive I’d a been in charge of New York now! But that boy of his,that Howard, he don’t appreciate. When I went north the first time, the WagnerCompany didn’t know where New England was!     30 LINDAWhy don’t you tell those things to Howard, dear? . . . WILLYFigure it out. Work a lifetime to pay off a house. You finally own it, and there’s nobody tolive in it. LINDAWell, dear, life is a casting off. It’s always that way. WILLYNo, no, some people-- some people accomplish something. Did Biff say anything     35after I went this morning? LINDAYou shouldn’t have criticized him, Willy, especially after he just got off the train.You mustn’t lose your temper with him. WILLYWhen the hell did I lose my temper? I simply asked him if he was making anymoney. Is that a criticism?     40In the beginning, when he was young, I thought, well, a young man, it’s good forhim to tramp around, take a lot of different jobs. But it’s more than ten years nowand he has yet to make thirty-five dollars a week! . . .The trouble is he’s lazy, goddammit! . . . Biff is a lazy bum! . . . LINDAI think he’s still lost, Willy. I think he’s very lost.     45 WILLYBiff Loman is lost. In the greatest country in the world a young man withsuch — personal attractiveness, gets lost. And such a hard worker. There’s onething about Biff — he’s not lazy.Miller, Arthur. Death of a Salesman. Pelister.og, N.D. Web. 20 September 2016.In the opening and subsequent stage directions, the flute most likely symbolizesElimination ToolSelect one answerAWilly.BLinda.CWilly's house.Dthe apartments.Ethe sky.

Select all that applyThe painting Nighthawks shows a diner withMultiple select question.a crowd of patrons.no visible entrance.no visible exit.a friendly atmosphere.bright lights.