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Student:……………………………..

2019 Higher School CertificateTrial ExaminationEnglish (Standard)

Paper 1

General Instructions Reading time – 10 minutes Working time – 1 hour and 30 minutes Write using black pen A Stimulus Booklet is provided with this paper

Total marks:40 Section I - 20 marks

Attempt Question 1 Allow about 45 minutes for this section

Section II – 20 marks Attempt Question 2 Allow about 45 minutes for this section

DisclaimerEvery effort has been made to prepare this Examination in accordance with the NSW Education Standards Authority documents. No guarantee or warranty is made or implied that the Examination paper mirrors in every respect the actual HSC Examination question paper in this course. This paper does not constitute ‘advice’ nor can it be construed as an authoritative interpretation of NSW Education Standards Authority intentions. No liability for any reliance, use or purpose related to this paper is taken. Advice on HSC examination issues is only to be obtained from the NSW Education Standards Authority. The publisher does not accept any responsibility for accuracy of papers which have been modified.

ENGS_TR19_Paper 1_EXAM

Section I

20 marksAttempt Question 1Allow about 45 minutes for this section

In your answers you will be assessed on how well you:

demonstrate understanding of human experiences in texts analyse, explain and assess the ways human experiences are represented in texts

Question 1

Examine Texts 1, 2, 3 and 4 in the Stimulus Booklet carefully and then answer the questions below.

Text 1 – Poem

(a) Explore how the poem’s narrative is gradually developed. 3

Text 2 – Webpage

(b) Analyse the ways in which human experiences are represented on this webpage. 3

Text 3 – Song lyric

(c) How does the song use language to explore contrasting human experiences? 4

Text 4 – Short story extract

(d) How does the story build tension in this extract? 4

Texts 1 and 4

(e) Compare how Texts 1 and 4 explore the importance of private human feelings. 6

End of Question 1

2ENGS_TR19_Paper 1_EXAM

Section II

20 marksAttempt Question 2Allow about 45 minutes for this section

Your answer will be assessed on how well you:

demonstrate understanding of human experiences in texts analyse, explain and assess the ways human experiences are represented in texts organise, develop and express ideas using language appropriate to audience,

purpose and context

Question 2 (20 marks)

Explore the ways in which your prescribed text represents the individual and collective human experience.

The prescribed texts are listed in the Stimulus Booklet.

End of Paper


BLANK PAGE


Student:……………………………..

2019 Higher School CertificateTrial ExaminationEnglish (Standard)

Stimulus Booklet for Section IandList of prescribed texts for Section II

Page

Section I Text 1 – Poem 2

Text 2 – Webpage 3

Text 3 – Song lyric 4–5

Text 4 – Short story extract 6–7

Section II List of prescribed texts 8


Section I

Text 1 – Poem

Victory

When I was twelve, I shoplifted a pairOf basketball shoes. We could not affordThem otherwise. But when I tied them on,I found that I couldn’t hit a shot.

When the ball clanked off the rim, I feltOnly guilt, guilt, guilt. O, immoral shoes!O, kicks made of paranoia and rue!Distraught but unwilling to get caught

Or confess, I threw those cursed NikesInto the river and hoped that was goodEnough for God. I played that seasonIn supermarket tennis shoes that felt

The same as playing in bare feet.O, torn skin! O, bloody heels and toes!O, twisted ankles! O, blisters the sizeOf dimes and quarters! Finally, after

I couldn’t take the pain anymore, I toldMy father what I had done. He wasn’t angry.He wept out of shame. Then he cradledAnd rocked me and called me his Little

Basketball Jesus. He told me that every cryOf pain was part of the hoops sonata.Then he laughed and bandaged my wounds—My Indian Boy Poverty Basketball Stigmata. *

SHERMAN ALEXIE

*stigmata – in Christianity, marks on the hands or feet that resemble the wounds of Jesus


Text 2 - Webpage

[Please turn paper sideways to view this text.]


Text 3 – Song lyric

Dave

DaveLives in a caveUnder a hillA little way from the seaTwo cups of teaAnd rashers for breakfast well doneWorks until oneNo need to runJust what he needs to liveHead like a sieveStill you can't call him a slave

And you and me just keep onRushing round the worldTo chase the perfect crimeCould it be that while we’reRushing round the worldWe’re wasting all our time?

DaveWatches the wavesThey come and goSo he don’t have to – WhyReach for the sky?He got a job once in SpainAway from the rainGot on a trainTurned around came right backOn the same trackWhy doesn’t he just behave?


[Text 3 continues on page 9.]


Text 3 continued

DaveLies in his graveUnder the hillSomebody took his placeWith the same faceWhistles the same tone-deaf tuneWorks until noonHowls at the moonMaybe he'll call in sickHead like a brickSays you can just call him Dave


Wasting all our timeWasting all our timeWasting all our timeWasting all our time

JOE JACKSON


Text 4 – Short story extract

It was afternoon: great clouds stumbled across the sky. In the drowsy, half-dark room

the young girl sat in a heap near the window, scarcely moving herself, as if she expected

a certain timed happening, such as a visit, sunset, a command. Slowly she would draw

the fingers of one hand across the back of the other, in the little hollows between the

guides, and move her lips in the same sad, vexed way in which her brows came

together. And like this too, her eyes would shift about, from the near, shadowed fields,

to the west hills, where the sun had dropped a strip of light, and to the woods between,

looking like black scars one minute, and like friendly sanctuaries the next. It was all

confused. There was the room, too. The white keys of the piano would now and then

exercise a fascination over her which would keep her whole body perfectly still for

perhaps a minute. But when this passed, full of hesitation, her fingers would

recommence the slow exploration of her hands, and the restlessness took her again.

It was all confused. She was going away: already she had said a hundred times

during the afternoon – 'I am going away, I am going away. I can't stand it any longer.'

But she had made no attempt to go. In this same position, hour after hour had passed her

and all she could think was: 'Today I'm going away. I'm tired here. I never do anything.

It's dead, rotten.'

She said, or thought it all without the slightest trace of exultation and was

sometimes even methodical when she began to consider: 'What shall I take? The blue

dress with the rosette? Yes. What else? what else?' And then it would all begin again:

'Today I'm going away. I never do anything.'

It was true: she never did anything. In the mornings she got up late, was slow

over her breakfast, over everything – her reading, her mending, her eating, her playing

the piano, cards in the evening, going to bed. It was all slow — purposely done, to fill

up the day. And it was true, day succeeded day and she never did anything different.

But today something was about to happen: no more cards in the evening, every

evening the same, with her father declaring: 'I never have a decent hand, I thought the

ace of trumps had gone! It's too bad!!' and no more: 'Nellie, it's ten o'clock – Bed!' and

the slow unimaginative climb of the stairs. Today she was going away: no one knew,

but it was so. She was catching the evening train to London.

'I'm going away. What shall I take? The blue dress with the rosette? What else?'

She crept upstairs with difficulty, her body stiff after sitting. The years she must

have sat, figuratively speaking, and grown stiff! And as if in order to secure some


violent reaction against it all she threw herself into the packing of her things with a

nervous vigour, throwing in the blue dress first and after it a score of things she had just

remembered. She fastened her bag: it was not heavy. She counted her money a dozen

times. It was all right! It was all right. She was going away!

She descended into the now dark room for the last time. In the dining-room

someone was rattling tea-cups, an unbearable, horribly domestic sound! She wasn't

hungry: she would be in London by eight – eating now meant making her sick. It was

easy to wait. The train went at 6.18. She looked it up again: 'Elden 6.13, Olde 6.18,

London 7.53.'

She began to play a waltz. It was a slow, dreamy tune, ta-tum, turn, ta-tum, turn,

ta-tum, turn, of which the notes slipped out in mournful, sentimental succession. The

room was quite dark, she could scarcely see the keys, and into the tune itself kept

insinuating: 'Elden 6.13, Olde 6.18,' impossible to mistake or forget.

As she played on she thought: 'I'll never play this waltz again. It has the

atmosphere of this room. It's the last time!' The waltz slid dreamily to an end: for a

minute she sat in utter silence, the room dark and mysterious, the air of the waltz quite

dead, then the tea-cups rattled again and the thought came back to her: 'I'm going away!'

She rose and went out quietly. The grass on the roadside moved under the

evening wind, sounding like many pairs of hands rubbed softly together. But there was

no other sound, her feet were light, no one heard her, and as she went down the road she

told herself: it's going to happen! It's come at last!'

'Elden 6.13. Olde 6.18.'

Should she go to Elden or Olde? At the crossroads she stood to consider,

thinking that if she went to Elden no one would know her. But at Olde someone would

doubtless notice her and prattle about it. To Elden, then, not that it mattered. Nothing

mattered now. She was going, was as good as gone!

Her breast, tremulously warm, began to rise and fall as her excitement increased.

She tried to run over the things in her bag and could remember only 'the blue dress with

the rosette', which she had thrown in first and had since covered over. But it didn't

matter. Her money was safe, everything was safe, and with that thought she dropped

into a strange quietness, deepening as she went on, in which she had a hundred

emotions and convictions. She was never going to strum that waltz again, she had

played cards for the last, horrible time, the loneliness, the slowness, the oppression were

ended, all ended.


– extracted from the short story Never by H.L. BATES


Section II

The prescribed texts for Section II are:

Prose Fiction Anthony Doerr, All the Light We Cannot SeeAmanda Lohrey, VertigoGeorge Orwell, Nineteen Eighty-FourFavel Parrett, Past the Shallows

Poetry Rosemary Dobson, Rosemary Dobson Collected PoemsThe prescribed poems are:* Young Girl at a Window* Over the Hill* Summer’s End* The Conversation* Cock Crow* Amy Caroline* Canberra Morning

Kenneth Slessor, Selected PoemsThe prescribed poems are:* Wild Grapes* Gulliver* Out of Time* Vesper-Song of the Reverend Samuel Marsden* William Street* Beach Burial

Drama Jane Harrison, Rainbow’s End, from Vivienne Cleven et al., Contemporary Indigenous PlaysArthur Miller, The Crucible

Shakespearean DramaWilliam Shakespeare, The Merchant of Venice

Nonfiction Tim Winton, The Boy Behind the Curtain* Havoc: A Life in Accidents* Betsy* Twice on Sundays* The Wait and the Flow* In the Shadow of the Hospital* The Demon Shark* Barefoot in the Temple of Art

Malala Yousafzai and Christina Lamb, I am Malala

Film Stephen Daldry, Billy Elliot

Media Ivan O’Mahoney, Go Back to Where You Came From, Series 1: Episodes 1,2,3 and The ResponseLucy Walker, Wasteland

End of Paper9ENGS_TR19_Paper 1_EXAM

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