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RESOURCE BOOKLET
Refer to this booklet to answer the questions for English 91100.
Check that this booklet has pages 24 in the correct order and that none of these pages is blank.
YOU MAY KEEP THIS BOOKLET AT THE END OF THE EXAMINATION.
TEXT A: NON-FICTION
In this passage from a book review, the writer explores his response to a book about how New Zealands
identity has been created by the people who have lived here.
Glossed word
incarceration
imprisonment
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20
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TEXT B: POETRY
This poem depicts the pursuit and capture of an escaped horse by the person who had been riding it.
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Glossed words
saddle
a seat attached to the back of a horse for a rider to sit in
stirrups
a pair of hoops attached to either side of the saddle for a rider to put their feet in
reins
a loop or strap that a rider holds on to in order to guide or control their horse
Source: Emma Barnes, The Horse is Loose, found on http://stillcraic.blogspot.co.nz/2012/07/tuesday-poem-horse-is
-loose-by-emma.html.
TEXT C: FICTION
This piece of short fiction portrays the experience of a person with a condition that has affected their
physical ability.
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When you finally reach the bench, a thousand firefly lights dance around inside you for joy.
Your mothers face shines like shes finally won the lottery.
Do you think Dr Malcomson will let us go back to Wellington when he sees how good my
walking is now? you ask your mother hopefully.
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He thinks the climate here is better for your recovery, she says.
Ive been gone so long none of my friends even write to me anymore.
Youll see them again, she says. The doctor is just being careful you dont have another
relapse.
You sit on the bench, looking out over the marshes. The water and the sky are all silver and
steel grey, devoid of any vibrancy. No children run laughing along the footpath. No cars
drive on the road nearby. There is just you, your mother, the Arbuckles, and the stillness of
the wetlands seeping on in to dampen your spirits.
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A flock of spoonbills flies in perfect formation over the water, heading towards the sea.
You know they can fly all the way to Australia, says your mother, like you dont already
know.
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All the way to Australia, where the sun is so hot it has burned the desert sands bright red.
Where fish every colour of the rainbow swim through cathedrals of coral. Where bleachedblonde surfers play chicken with great white sharks.
We should go back now, says your mother. You look tired. Ill get the wheelchair from the
car.
The last of the spoonbills cries a mournful farewell as it disappears into the distance, making
its escape to Australia.
No, you say. Im going to walk.
Source (adapted): Sarah Anderson, Its for Your Own Good, in Snorkel #9, April 2009, http://snorkel.org.au/009
/anderson.html.
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