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Monday, July 21, 2025

"Action Will be Taken" by Heinrich Boll - MCQs, Short Questions, Case Study-Real Life Experience

"Action will be Taken" - by Heinrich Boll

Probably one of the strangest interludes in my life was the time I spent as an employee in Alfred Wunsiedel’s factory. By nature, I am inclined more to pensiveness and inactivity than to work, but now and again prolonged financial difficulties compel me – for pensiveness is no more profitable than inactivity – to take on a so-called job. Finding myself once again at a low ebb of this kind, I put myself in the hands of the employment office and was sent with seven other fellow-sufferers to Wunsiedel’s factory, where we were to undergo an aptitude test.

The exterior of the factory was enough to arouse my suspicions: the factory was built entirely of glass brick, and my aversion to well-lit buildings and well-lit rooms is as strong as my aversion to work. I became even more suspicious when we were immediately served breakfast in the well-lit, cheerful coffee shop: pretty waitresses brought us eggs, coffee and toast, orange juice was served in tastefully designed jugs, goldfish pressed their bored faces against the sides of pale-green aquariums. The waitresses were so cheerful that they appeared to be bursting with good cheer. Only a strong effort of will – so it seemed to me -restrained them from singing away all day long. They were as crammed with unsung songs as chickens with unlaid eggs.

Right away I realized something that my fellow-sufferers evidently failed to realize: that this breakfast was already part of the test; so I chewed away reverently, with the full appreciation of a person who knows he is supplying his body with valuable elements. I did something which normally no power on earth can make me do: I drank orange juice on an empty stomach, left the coffee and egg untouched, as well as most of the toast, got up, and paced up and down in the coffee shop, pregnant with action.

As a result I was the first to be ushered into the room where the questionnaires were spread out on attractive tables. The walls were done in a shade of green that would have summoned the word “delightful” to the lips of interior decoration enthusiasts. The room appeared to be empty, and yet I was so sure of being observed that I behaved as someone pregnant with action behaves when he believes himself unobserved: I ripped my pen impatiently from my pocket, unscrewed the top, sat down at the nearest table and pulled the questionnaire toward me, the way irritable customers snatch at the bill in a restaurant.

Question No. 1: Do you consider it right for a human being to possess only two arms, two legs, eyes, and ears?

Here for the first lime I reaped the harvest of my pensive nature and wrote without hesitation: “Even four arms, legs and ears would not be adequate for my driving energy. Human beings are very poorly equipped.”

Question No. 2: How many telephones can you handle at one time?

Here again the answer was as easy as simple arithmetic: “When there are only seven telephones,” I wrote, “I get impatient; there have to be nine before I feel I am working to capacity.”

Question No. 3: How do you spend your free time?

My answer: “I no longer acknowledge the term free time – on my fifteenth birthday I eliminated it from my vocabulary, for in the beginning was the act.”

I got the job. Even with nine telephones I really didn’t feel I was working to capacity. I shouted into the mouth-pieces: “Take immediate action!” or; “Do something! – We must have some action – Action will be taken – Action has been taken – Action should be taken.” But as a rule – for I felt this was in keeping with the tone of the place – I used the imperative.

Of considerable interest were the noon-hour breaks, when we consumed nutritious foods in an atmosphere of silent good cheer. Wunsiedel’s factory was swarming with people who were obsessed with telling you the story of their lives, as indeed vigorous personalities are fond of doing. The story of their lives is more important to them than their lives, you have only to press a button, and immediately it is covered with spewed-out exploits.

Wunsiedel had a right-hand man called Broschek, who had in turn made a name for himself by supporting seven children and a paralyzed wife by working night-shifts in his student days, and successfully carrying on four business agencies, besides which he had passed two examinations with honors in two years. When asked by reporters: “When do you sleep, Mr. Broschek?” he had replied: “It’s a crime to sleep!”

Wunsiedel’s secretary had supported a paralyzed husband and four children by knitting, at the same time graduating in psychology and German history as well as breeding shepherd dogs, and she had become famous as a night-club singer where she was known as Vamp Number Seven.

Wunsiedel himself was one of those people who every morning, as they open their eyes, make up their minds to act. “I must act,” they think as they briskly tie their bathrobe belts around them. “I must act,” they think as they shave, triumphantly watching their beard hairs being washed away with the lather: these hirsute vestiges are the first daily sacrifices to their driving energy. The more intimate functions also give these people a sense of satisfaction: water swishes, paper is used. Action has been taken. Bread get eaten, eggs are decapitated.

With Wunsiedel, the most trivial activity looked like action: the way he put on his hat, the way-quivering with energy – he buttoned up his overcoat, the kiss he gave his wife, everything was action.

When he arrived at his office he greeted his secretary with a cry of “Let’s have some action!” And in ringing tones she would call back: “Action will be taken!” Wunsiedel then went from department to department, calling out his cheerful: “Let’s have some action!” Everyone would answer: “Action will be taken!” And I would call back to him too, with a radiant smile, when he looked into my office: “Action will be Taken!”

Within a week I had increased the number of telephones on my desk to eleven, within two weeks to thirteen, and every morning on the streetcar I enjoyed thinking up new imperatives, or chasing the words take action through various tenses and modulations: for two whole days I kept saying the same sentence over and over again because I thought it sounded so marvelous: “Action ought to have been taken;” for another two days it was: “Such action ought not to have been taken.”

So I was really beginning to feel I was working to capacity when there actually was some action. One Tuesday morning – I had hardly settled down at my desk – Wunsiedel rushed into my office crying his “let’s have some action!” But an inexplicable something in his face made me hesitate to reply, in a cheerful gay voice as the rules dictated: “Action will be taken!” I must have paused too long, for Wunsiedel, who seldom raised his voice, shouted at me: “Answer! Answer, you know the rules!” And I answered, under my breath, reluctantly, like a child who is forced to say: I am a naughty child. It was only by a great effort that I managed to bring out the sentence: “Action will be taken,” and hardly had I uttered it when there really was some action: Wunsiedel dropped to the floor. As he fell he rolled over onto his side and lay right across the open doorway. I knew at once, and I confirmed it when I went slowly around my desk and approached the body on the floor: he was dead.

Shaking my head I stepped over Wunsiedel, walked slowly along the corridor to Broschek’s office, and entered without knocking. Broschek was sitting at his desk, a telephone receiver in each hand, between his teeth a ballpoint pen with which he was making notes on a writing pad, while with his bare feet he was operating a knitting machine under the desk. In this way he helps to clothe his family. “We’ve had some action,” I said in a low voice.

Broschek spat out the ballpoint pen, put down the two receivers, reluctantly detached his toes from the knitting machine.

“What action?” he asked.

“Wunsiedel is dead,” I said.

“No,” said Broschek.

“Yes,” I said, “come and have a look!”

“No,” said Broschek, “that’s impossible,” but he put on his slippers and followed me along the corridor.

“No,” he said, when we stood beside Wunsiedel’s corpse, “no, no!” I did not contradict him. I carefully turned Wunsiedel over onto his back, closed his eyes, and looked at him pensively.

I felt something like tenderness for him, and realized for the first time that I had never hated him. On his face was that expression which one sees on children who obstinately refuse to give up their faith in Santa Claus, even though the arguments of their playmates sound so convincing.

“No,” said Broschek, “no.”

“We must take action;” I said quietly to Broschek. “Yes,” said Broschek, “we must take action.”

Action was taken: Wunsiedel was buried; and I was delegated to carry a wreath of artificial roses behind his coffin, for I am equipped with not only a penchant for pensiveness and inactivity but also a face and figure that go extremely well with dark suits. Apparently as I walked along behind Wunsiedel’s coffin carrying the wreath of artificial roses I looked superb. I received an offer from a fashionable firm of funeral directors to join their staff as a professional mourner. “You are a born mourner,” said the manager, “your outfit would be provided by the firm. Your face – simply superb!”

I handed in my notice to Broschek, explaining that I had never really felt I was working to capacity there; that, in spite of the thirteen telephones, some of my talents were going to waste. As soon as my first professional appearance as a mourner was over I knew: This is where I belong, this is what I am cut out for.

Pensively I stand behind the coffin in the funeral chapel, holding a simple bouquet, while the organ plays Handel’s Largo, a piece that does not receive nearly the respect it deserves. The cemetery café is my regular haunt; there I spend the intervals between my professional engagements, although sometimes I walk behind coffins which I have not been engaged to follow, I pay for flowers out of my own pocket and join the welfare worker who walks behind the coffin of some homeless person. From time to time I also visit Wunsiedel’s grave, for after all I owe it to him that I discovered my true vocation, a vocation in which pensiveness is essential and inactivity my duty.

It was not till much later that I realized I had never bothered to find out what was being produced in Wunsiedel’s factory. I expect it was soap.

(Translated by Leila Vennewitz)

Thinking about empathy skills:

1. What exactly is empathy?
Ans: Empathy means understanding how someone else feels. It is like putting yourself in their place and feeling their emotions.

2. How is empathy different from sympathy?
Ans: Empathy is feeling with someone; sympathy is feeling sorry for them. Empathy connects, while sympathy sometimes creates distance.

3. Do you think having empathy is important for human beings? Why?
Ans: Yes, empathy helps people care for and understand each other. It builds trust, kindness, and better relationships.

Workplace skills:

1. What kind of workplace skills do we learn or are forced to learn from the architecture of buildings where factories, offices are located?

Ans: We learn to adjust to space, light, and design. Bright lights and open spaces may increase energy and focus. Architecture can shape how we feel and work.

2. What kind of workplace skills do we learn from the way in which our co-workers, including managers, interact with us and others?

Ans: We learn teamwork, communication, and respect. Good interaction teaches us patience and problem-solving. We also learn how to lead and support others.

3. What are the advantages of doing some work for which we may not have acquired any proper training? Why would you do such work?

Ans: It helps us discover hidden talents and gain new experience. We may also learn faster in real situations. Doing such work can lead to growth and confidence.

4. Do you think that simply working to earn a living is a meaningful way of living?

Ans: Only earning money is not always meaningful. Helping others and doing work with purpose gives life deeper value. Sharing skills or time with the less privileged brings true satisfaction.

Case Study / Real Life Experience:

(In a paragraph of 150 words, write about one or two employees you know or have heard of who quit their job to find another one to suit their temperament.)

I once heard about a man named Rakesh who worked in a large IT company. Although the job paid well, he found the work environment too stressful and fast-paced for his calm and thoughtful nature. He was often expected to handle multiple tasks at once and attend long meetings, which made him feel drained. After two years, Rakesh decided to quit and look for a job that suited his personality better. He eventually found work at a small publishing house, where the atmosphere was quieter and the tasks more focused. He now edits manuscripts, works with writers, and enjoys the peace and creativity of his new role. Similarly, a woman named Priya left her marketing job to become a yoga instructor. She wanted a more meaningful and balanced life. Both Rakesh and Priya found happiness after choosing careers that matched their inner nature and temperament.

MCQs on "Action will be Taken":

Here are 50 multiple-choice questions (MCQs) based on "Action Will Be Taken" by Heinrich Böll, followed by the answer key at the end. Each question tests comprehension, inference, theme, character analysis, and style.

MCQs:

Who is the narrator of the story?
A. Alfred Wunsiedel
B. Broschek
C. An unnamed pensive man
D. Vamp Number Seven
Why did the narrator join Wunsiedel’s factory?
A. He loved action
B. He was passionate about work
C. He was financially struggling
D. He wanted to meet Wunsiedel
What was unusual about the factory building?
A. It was underground
B. It was built entirely of glass bricks
C. It was shaped like a telephone
D. It was made of wood and straw
What was the narrator’s reaction to the cheerful breakfast setting?
A. He enjoyed it
B. He was suspicious
C. He ignored it
D. He left immediately
What did the narrator realize about the breakfast?
A. It was poisoned
B. It was a celebration
C. It was part of the test
D. It was a welcome gift
What unusual thing did the narrator do during breakfast?
A. Drank coffee with sugar
B. Took selfies
C. Drank orange juice on an empty stomach
D. Danced with the waitress
What was the color of the walls in the questionnaire room?
A. Blue
B. White
C. Delightful green
D. Pale yellow
What was the narrator’s answer to the first questionnaire?
A. Humans are perfect
B. Four arms and legs are too many
C. Humans are poorly equipped
D. I don’t know
How many telephones did the narrator want to feel he was working to capacity?
A. Two
B. Five
C. Nine
D. Ten
What did the narrator eliminate from his vocabulary on his fifteenth birthday?
A. Responsibility
B. Sadness
C. Free time
D. Friends
What slogan did Wunsiedel frequently shout?
A. Get to work!
B. Let’s have some action!
C. Time is money!
D. Make it happen!
How did employees respond to Wunsiedel’s slogan?
A. Yes, sir!
B. Immediately!
C. Action will be taken!
D. Take rest!
What activity was Broschek doing with his toes?
A. Playing piano
B. Typing
C. Operating a knitting machine
D. Massaging himself
What was the narrator’s role in the factory?
A. Secretary
B. Sales manager
C. Motivational speaker
D. Shouting imperatives into phones
What did the narrator enjoy doing on the streetcar?
A. Sleeping
B. Creating new slogans
C. Reading novels
D. Singing songs
How did Wunsiedel die?
A. Accident
B. He collapsed suddenly
C. The narrator pushed him
D. Heart attack due to inactivity
How did the narrator react to Wunsiedel’s death?
A. Panic
B. Calm and thoughtful
C. Ran away
D. Cried loudly
What did Broschek say repeatedly when he saw the body?
A. "Why him?"
B. "We must act!"
C. "No!"
D. "Help!"
What kind of wreath did the narrator carry at the funeral?
A. Rose petals
B. Artificial roses
C. White lilies
D. Real flowers
What job was the narrator offered after the funeral?
A. Secretary
B. Comedian
C. Professional mourner
D. Motivational speaker
What compliment did the funeral director give the narrator?
A. “You look too sad.”
B. “You’re a born mourner.”
C. “You need training.”
D. “You’re hired as manager.”
What was the narrator's final profession?
A. Teacher
B. Clerk
C. Mourner
D. Watchman
What did the narrator think of Handel’s Largo?
A. Overrated
B. Annoying
C. Underrated
D. Boring
What factory product does the narrator guess at the end?
A. Pens
B. Soap
C. Radios
D. Light bulbs
What is the narrator’s dominant personality trait?
A. Energetic
B. Angry
C. Pensive and inactive
D. Excitable
Who is Vamp Number Seven?
A. A factory machine
B. Wunsiedel’s daughter
C. The secretary
D. A musician
What theme is central to the story?
A. Patriotism
B. War and peace
C. Absurdity of corporate life
D. Space travel
What literary device is mostly used in the story?
A. Allegory
B. Satire
C. Simile
D. Rhyme
What attitude do the workers seem to fake?
A. Sadness
B. Laziness
C. Cheerfulness and action
D. Curiosity
What word is repeated throughout the story?
A. Fight
B. Action
C. Love
D. Tired
What is the narrator’s view of ‘free time’?
A. Very important
B. Only for lazy people
C. Doesn’t exist
D. A gift
What did the secretary do besides work?
A. Raised chickens
B. Wrote books
C. Sang at nightclubs
D. Was a dancer
What phrase made the narrator hesitate when Wunsiedel entered?
A. “You’re fired!”
B. “What are you doing?”
C. “Let’s have some action!”
D. “Lunch break!”
What does the narrator’s behavior suggest about modern workplaces?
A. They are fair and inspiring
B. They nurture individual skills
C. They value performance only
D. They demand meaningless action
What does the narrator realize only later?
A. He hated Wunsiedel
B. He loved the secretary
C. He never found out what the factory produced
D. He wanted a new job
What type of humor is present in the story?
A. Dark satire
B. Slapstick
C. Wordplay
D. Puns
What shows the narrator’s disinterest in his job?
A. He always came late
B. He hated the coffee
C. He kept inventing empty slogans
D. He destroyed machines
How is Wunsiedel described?
A. Lively and energetic
B. Sad and tired
C. Lazy and inactive
D. Quiet and thoughtful
What is symbolized by the “glass-brick” building?
A. Strength
B. Isolation
C. Transparency and control
D. Weakness
What does the narrator do at funerals he’s not hired for?
A. Avoids them
B. Stands far away
C. Joins them anyway
D. Takes pictures
What kind of jokes are embedded in the narrative?
A. Visual gags
B. Satirical exaggeration
C. Dirty jokes
D. Knock-knock jokes
What phrase becomes meaningless by repetition?
A. “Lunch time!”
B. “Have a good day!”
C. “Action will be taken!”
D. “Let’s go!”
The narrator says the workers’ stories were like:
A. Short novels
B. Movies
C. Vending machines
D. Buttons you press to get a story
The narrator believes that:
A. Silence is golden
B. Free time is dangerous
C. Action is overrated
D. Inactivity is his true skill
Why did the funeral company want him?
A. He was famous
B. He looked good in black
C. He could sing
D. He was related to Wunsiedel
How does the narrator describe his pensive nature?
A. As a weakness
B. As his strength
C. As unimportant
D. As irrelevant
The narrator compares the cheerful waitresses to:
A. Rabbits
B. Chickens with unlaid eggs
C. Dancers
D. Robots
The phrase “we must act” implies:
A. Urgency, often fake
B. Real emotion
C. Lack of control
D. Anger
What does the narrator say about his funeral job?
A. It’s boring
B. It suits him perfectly
C. It’s temporary
D. It’s just for money
What is the final mood of the story?
A. Joyful
B. Tragic
C. Calm, reflective, absurd
D. Aggressive

Answer Key:

Wednesday, July 9, 2025

'The Power of A Plate of Rice' by Ifeoma Okoye: MCQs, Short Questions, Case Study-Real Life Experience

I walked hurriedly to Mr. Aziza's office, breathing heavily in steadily rising anger. Aziza's The January sun was blazing in fury, taking undue advantage of the temporary withdrawal of the seasonal harmattan. As I arrived at the office, which was at the end of the administration block, I remembered one of mother's precepts: "Do nothing in anger. Wait till your anger melts like thick palm oil placed under the sun." Mother was a philosopher of sorts. Poor woman. She passed away before I could reward her for all the sacrifices she made on my behalf, forgoing many comforts just so that I could get some education, and for carrying the financial burden of the family during my father's protracted illness and even after his premature death. In deference to mother, I stood by Mr. Aziza's door for a few seconds, trying to stifle my anger, but failing woefully. Only an angel or an idiot would remain calm in my situation.

At last I knocked on the mottled green door.

"Come in."

Mr. Aziza's authoritative voice hit me like a blow, startling me. I opened the door and walked in, my anger still smouldering.

Mr. Aziza, the Principal of the secondary school where I was teaching, was seated behind a medium-sized desk made of cheap white wood and thickly coated with varnish. Books, files, letter trays, and loose sheets of paper jostled for a place on the desk. He raised his coconut-shaped head, closed the file he was reading, removed his plastic framed spectacles and peered at me.

"Yes, Mrs. Cheta Adu. What do you want?" His voice was on the defensive and the look on his ridged face was intimidating.

We were paid irregularly. Although it was the end of January, the salary in question was for the October of the previous year. Four months without any salary and yet we went to work regularly.

"Yes, I did, Mrs. Cheta Adu.' Mr. Aziza's small, narrow eyes pierced me like a lethal weapon. As one teacher had put it, he paralysed his prey with his eyes before dealing a death blow to them.

"What have I done, Sir?" I asked, trying to load the word 'Sir' with as much sarcasm as I could to indicate how I felt inside.

Mr. Aziza fingered his bulbous nose, a part of his body which had been the butt of many a teacher's joke. He was known to love food more than anything else, and one female teacher had once said that most of what he ate went into his nose.

"You were away from school without permission for four days last week," Mr Aziza finally declared.

My anger, which a few minutes ago had reduced to a simmer, suddenly began to bubble like a pot of ogbono soup when the fire under it is poked.

I said as calmly as I could, "In those four days, Sir, I almost lost my baby. I had already explained the circumstances to you. My baby became very ill suddenly. I had to rush him to hospital. For those four days, Sir, he battled for his life."

"And so?" Mr. Aziza intoned.

Someone knocked at the door and I turned to see the second Vice-Principal's bearded face as he opened it. "I'll be back," a thin lipped, hair-fringed mouth said and disappeared. The appearance of the bearded face was like a comic scene in a Shakespearean tragedy. Christmas and the New Year, a salaried worker was left with little money for the rest of January. And for those who had children in school, paying school fees and buying books and school uniforms for the new school year often became a nightmare. This year was worse for me because I and all the other teachers in the school were last paid in September the year before.

"I am a widow, Sir," I pleaded with Mr. Aziza. "I am the sole bread-winner for my family. Times are hard. My children cannot survive till the end of February without my next salary."

Mr. Aziza said, "I don't want to know, Mrs. Cheta Adu. My decision is final."

He stood up, hitched his trousers, up with his elbows, and walked to a window on his right and peered out of it. He was a small, wiry man, the type mother often told me to be beware of.

Helpless, I stood watching him, a man known for his inflexibility. I knew from my colleagues' experiences that taking my case to the State Schools Management Board would be futile as Mr. Aziza had ingratiated himself with the powerful and high- ranking officers of the Board. As the Principal of one of the elite schools in the state, he had helped their children admitted into his school even when the spoilt ones among them did not pass the entrance examination. I also knew that taking Mr. Aziza to court was out of the question. Where would get I the money for a lawyer? Besides, civil cases had been known to last for months or even years because of unnecessary and often deliberate court adjournments.

Mr. Aziza walked back to his chair and sat down.

I looked hard at him and, without saying anything more, left his office. In a taxi taking me home, I thought about nothing else but Mr Aziza.

This was the second time I had found myself at his mercy. The first time was when, five years ago, I was transferred to his school from a secondary school in Onitsha where I was teaching before my marriage. On reading the letter posting me to his school - I had delivered it to him personally - he had flung it at me and had declared, "I don't want any more female teachers in my school, especially married ones."

"What have we done?", I had wanted to know.

"You're a lazy lot," he had said. "You always find excuses to be away from school. Today it's this child of yours becoming ill who must be taken to hospital, and tomorrow it's the funeral of one relation or another."

When he officially refused to give me a place in his school, I resorted to a tactic I had used always before. I kept calling at his office every day, often without uttering a word, until I broke his resistance and made him accept me. This time, however, I had the feeling that he would not budge, no matter what I did.

When I arrived home after five in the evening, my mother-in-law was walking up and down in front of my flat with my two-year old son, Rapulu, tied on her back, and four-year old Dulue trailing behind her.

"You're late, Cheta," my mother-in-law said. "I was beginning to think you were not going to come home." She looked weary and worried.

"Sorry, Mama, I have some problems at school," I walked to her after hugging Dulue, who had trotted to me. "And how is Rap?" I asked.

"He's ill."

I placed the back of my hand on my younger son's forehead. It was piping hot.

"You're not going to be ill again, Rapulu?" I said under my breath. Aloud I asked, "How long has he been running a temperature, Mama?"

"A short while after you left for school in the morning," my mother-in-law replied.

I helped her untie Rapulu from her back and took him in, Dulue trotting behind me. I stripped Rapulu of his clothes, put him on the settee, fetched a bowl of cold water and a towel and began to sponge him down. He yelled and kicked, but I ignored him. Dulue, with his thumb in his mouth, kept on mumbling that he was hungry, while my mother-in-law stood speechless, watching me.

Presently, I remembered that I should have given Rapulu some fever medicine. I ran into the bedroom in the flat and dashed out with a small bottle. Taking Rapulu in my arms, I gave him a teaspoonful of the bitter-sweet medicine and began to sponge him again.

Mother-in-law soon dozed off. Poor woman, she must have had a trying day. She was a widow too and I had brought her to help me look after my children. Bless her, for what could I have done if she had refused my offer? Another reason why I brought her to live with me was to save costs. I used to send her money every month to supplement the meagre proceeds from her farms.

We had a late lunch of yam and raw palm oil. It was the last piece of yam in the house. I skipped supper because I wanted to make sure that the garri and egusi soup which I had would last for two nights.

The night was a long one. First, I lay awake for fear that Rapulu might become worse, but fortunately the fever did not persist. Then I reviewed all that I had gone through since I lost Afam, my husband who was an only child, in a ghastly motor accident a little more than a year before. He was a brilliant banker. We were at the university together, he studying banking and I mathematics. As luck would have it, we were posted to the same state for our National Youth Service. We became engaged at the end of our service and married shortly after. He died a fortnight after our fifth wedding anniversary and, ever since, my life had become an endless journey into the land of hardship and frustration. I had, under great pressure, spent all our savings to give my husband what my people and his had called a befitting burial, and what I saw as a senseless waste of hard-earned money.

For the better part of the night, I worried over how I was going to pay the January rent, how I was going to feed my two sons and my mother-in-law, and what I was going to do if Rapulu became so ill that he had to be hospitalized again? I already owed two of my friends some money and could not see myself summoning up the courage to go to them again.

I borrowed money again and for two long weeks I managed to feed my family, sometimes going without meals myself. I became irritable, and students complained that I was being too hard on them. My good-natured mother-in-law became equally touchy and nagged me incessantly. My two sons threw tantrums, spending a great deal of time crying. Soon I had no money left and no one to lend me more. I had reached a point when I had to do something drastic or allow my sons to die of hunger.

On the 23rd of February, after school hours, I went to Mr Aziza's office and once again pleaded with him to pay me.

"You're wasting your time, Mrs. Cheta Adu," he said. "I never change my mind. You will receive your salary on the 28th of February and not even one day earlier."

I left his office and waited for him in the outer room. At four o'clock he left his office. I followed him to his house, which was situated near the school main gate, and he turned and asked me why I was following him. I remained silent. He opened the door and walked in. Quietly, I followed him into his sitting room and sat down without any invitation to do so. The room was sparsely furnished. A black and white television stood on top of the shelf next to a small transistor radio. Near them, were a small dining room and a steel back chair.

Mr Aziza lived alone. His wife and six children lived at Onitsha about 100 kilometres away.

Mr. Aziza turned and faced me. "Look, Mrs. Adu, you'll achieve nothing by following me like a dog. You may stay here forever, but you'll not make me change my mind." He disappeared through a door on the right.

Presently, his houseboy walked into the room and began to lay the table. The smell of jollof rice wafted around my nostrils, reactivating in me the hunger which had been suppressed by anger, depression, and desperation. The houseboy finished laying the table and left.

On impulse I left my chair, walked to the dining table and sat down on the chair beside it. Removing the lid on the plate, I stared at the appetising mound of jollof rice. Then I grabbed the spoon beside the plate and began to eat. I ate quickly and not only with relish, but also with vengeance and animosity.

I heard a door squeak and turned to see Mr. Aziza walk into the sitting room. His jaw dropped and his mouth remained open as he stared at me.

"What do you think you're doing, Mrs. Cheta Adu?" he bellowed, finding his tongue at last. Disbelief was written all over his face.

I ignored the question and continued to help myself to the rice. I scooped a large piece of meat into my mouth, my cheeks bulging.

Mr. Aziza strode to the table, snatched the spoon from me with his right hand and with his left snatched the plate of rice away from me. It was almost empty now. I rose from the chair and moved a little bit back from him, thinking he was going to hit me.

He faced me, his eyes deadly. "Get out of my house, I say, get out!"

"Not until I receive my salary," I said calmly. Desperation had given me a form of courage I had not experienced before.

Mr. Aziza barked at me. "Get out. Go to the Bursar. Tell him I said he can pay you now."

I said calmly, "He'll not believe me. Why not give me a note for him?"

He scribbled a note, threw it at me and I grabbed it. Trying hard to suppress a smile, I said, "Thank you, Sir," and left the room, still chewing the rubbery meat in my mouth.

Thinking about leadership skills

What do you feel are some of the qualities of good leaders?
Ans: Good leaders are kind, honest, and strong. They help others and do the right thing.
Is initiative an essential quality in leaders? Why do you think so?
Ans: Yes, it is. A good leader starts work without being told and solves problems quickly.
Do good leaders keep motivated throughout their lives? How do you think they do so?
Ans: Yes, they stay motivated by believing in themselves and their goals. They also think of ways to help others.

Workplace skills

How do you deal with a colleague from the opposite sex?
Ans: I treat them with respect and kindness. I work with them like a friend or teammate.
How would you handle difficult financial situations?
Ans: I try to spend less and save money. I ask for help if I really need it.
Do your family members enable you to perform your work well? How do they do so? How do you balance your personal relationships with your duties?
Ans: Yes, my family helps by taking care of things at home. I spend time with them after work and plan my day well.
Have you ever been in a critical situation? How did you manage your interpersonal relations in the workplace during this time?
Ans: Yes, I stayed calm and talked kindly to others. I did my best to finish my work and not hurt anyone’s feelings.

Case Study or Real-life experience: Gender Discrimination

(Gender discrimination continues to this day in most parts of the world. In a paragraph of 150 words write about what gender discrimination means to you and how you would combat it from a leadership position.)

To me, gender discrimination means treating someone unfairly because they are a boy or a girl. It means not giving equal chances to girls just because they are girls, or not letting boys do something because it is seen as a girl’s job. This is not right. Boys and girls should be treated the same. Everyone should get equal respect, love, and chances to learn and grow.

If I become a leader, I will make sure that both boys and girls can do all types of work. I will listen to everyone and not ignore someone because of their gender. I will tell others that girls can be strong and smart just like boys. I will also stop people from making fun of others because of their gender. I believe all people are equal. If we work together, we can stop gender discrimination and make the world fair for all.

MCQs: “The Power of a Plate of Rice” by Ifeoma Okoye

What emotion does Cheta feel at the beginning of the story?
A. Joy
B. Fear
C. Anger
D. Surprise
What is Cheta’s reason for visiting Mr. Aziza’s office?
A. She wanted a new classroom.
B. She needed medical leave.
C. She wanted her salary.
D. She was resigning.
What advice did Cheta remember from her mother?
A. Never talk to strangers.
B. Wait for anger to cool before acting.
C. Always speak loudly.
D. Do everything in a hurry.
Why was Cheta angry with Mr. Aziza?
A. He insulted her.
B. He refused to give her leave.
C. He withheld her salary for months.
D. He fired her.
What illness did Cheta's child suffer from?
A. Cold
B. High fever
C. Malaria
D. Measles
What was Mr. Aziza’s response to Cheta’s request for early payment?
A. He agreed immediately.
B. He ignored her.
C. He refused firmly.
D. He asked her to return later.
What kind of leader is Mr. Aziza portrayed as in the beginning?
A. Kind and generous
B. Fair and just
C. Proud and helpful
D. Rigid and uncaring
How does Cheta describe her mother-in-law?
A. Lazy and careless
B. Patient and hardworking
C. Rude and loud
D. Weak and quiet
What personal tragedy did Cheta face before the story began?
A. Her husband left her.
B. Her house burned down.
C. Her husband died in an accident.
D. She lost her job.
What qualities make Cheta a strong leader in the story?
A. Wealth and power
B. Anger and revenge
C. Patience and determination
D. Obedience and silence
What does the story highlight about financial struggles?
A. They only affect the lazy.
B. They are always due to poor planning.
C. They can affect even hardworking people.
D. Only men face them.
What does Cheta's decision to eat Aziza's food show?
A. Bad manners
B. Desperation turned into action
C. Greed
D. Joy
How does Mr. Aziza react when he sees Cheta eating his food?
A. He laughs.
B. He joins her.
C. He shouts and becomes angry.
D. He walks away.
What leadership lesson can be learned from Cheta’s final act?
A. Be silent in pain.
B. Fight for your rights boldly.
C. Avoid your boss.
D. Never talk back.
What does Cheta do after eating the rice?
A. Cries and apologizes.
B. Demands her salary.
C. Leaves quietly.
D. Cleans the table.
Why was Cheta hesitant to go to court?
A. She didn't believe in courts.
B. She didn’t have enough money.
C. She had no documents.
D. She was scared of the police.
Why was Aziza able to ignore teacher complaints?
A. He was very kind.
B. He had powerful connections.
C. He paid everyone.
D. He never stayed in school.
What trait of Mr. Aziza made him unapproachable?
A. Kindness
B. Sarcasm
C. Strictness
D. His silence
What is a key leadership failure shown by Mr. Aziza?
A. Too many meetings
B. Lack of communication
C. Not supporting his team
D. Eating too much
What does the title “The Power of a Plate of Rice” suggest?
A. Hunger brings weakness.
B. Food can solve problems.
C. Simple actions can have strong impact.
D. Rice is a powerful food.
What value did Cheta uphold throughout the story?
A. Revenge
B. Laziness
C. Courage
D. Gossip
How did Cheta manage her responsibilities at home?
A. With support from her mother-in-law
B. By quitting her job
C. By asking for charity
D. By sending her kids away
What type of conflict is shown between Cheta and Aziza?
A. Man vs. nature
B. Man vs. technology
C. Woman vs. authority
D. Teacher vs. student
Why did Cheta skip her dinner?
A. She had eaten enough
B. She had no food left
C. She was fasting
D. She was angry
What made Cheta a good role model?
A. She shouted at people
B. She kept trying without giving up
C. She followed Aziza’s orders
D. She went to the media
Who took care of Cheta’s children during her absence?
A. Her sister
B. Her neighbor
C. Her mother-in-law
D. A paid maid
What symbol does the rice hold in the story?
A. Health
B. Respect
C. Survival and resistance
D. Luxury
What was Cheta’s profession?
A. Principal
B. Cook
C. Banker
D. Teacher
What was Aziza’s attitude toward married female teachers?
A. Supportive
B. Respectful
C. Negative
D. Encouraging
Why did Cheta not get paid on time?
A. School was closed.
B. Aziza held her salary.
C. She was absent for a day.
D. Her account had issues.
What quality does Cheta show when she refuses to leave Aziza’s house?
A. Pride
B. Patience
C. Determination
D. Arrogance
What is one thing Cheta does not lose in the story?
A. Her job
B. Her courage
C. Her husband
D. Her friends
What does the story teach about empathy in leadership?
A. It is a weakness
B. It’s not needed
C. It helps leaders support others
D. Only poor people need it
What does Cheta do after receiving the payment note?
A. Tears it
B. Thanks Aziza
C. Cries
D. Goes home
What important value did Cheta learn from her mother?
A. Revenge
B. Wait and think before acting in anger
C. Always fight first
D. Be silent always
What do Cheta’s children represent in the story?
A. Her burden
B. Her excuse
C. Her motivation
D. Her pain
How did Cheta finally get her salary?
A. By complaining to the board
B. By going to court
C. By boldly confronting Aziza
D. By writing a letter
What made Cheta break her silence in the end?
A. Anger
B. Desperation
C. Fear
D. Joy
What role did food play in this story?
A. It created conflict
B. It was a reward
C. It triggered action and justice
D. It was poisoned
Why does the story focus on rice?
A. It is expensive
B. It symbolizes hunger and power
C. It is Aziza’s favorite
D. It is easy to cook
What lesson about leadership does the story give?
A. A leader must always be feared
B. Good leaders must have power
C. Good leaders must listen and care
D. Anger leads to success
What kept Cheta going even without money?
A. Her dreams
B. Her children’s needs
C. Her mother’s advice
D. Her mother-in-law’s help
What kind of home does Aziza live in?
A. Poor and messy
B. Simple and lonely
C. Grand and clean
D. No home
What does Cheta do that surprises Mr. Aziza the most?
A. She cries
B. She eats his food
C. She apologizes
D. She faints
What did Cheta use to get the Bursar to pay her?
A. A phone call
B. A message
C. A written note from Aziza
D. A friend’s help
Which event shows Cheta’s leadership in action?
A. Waiting outside the office
B. Eating the rice
C. Scolding her students
D. Sleeping without food
What key leadership quality is missing in Mr. Aziza?
A. Confidence
B. Intelligence
C. Empathy
D. Strength
What does the story say about gender bias?
A. It no longer exists
B. Only women cause it
C. It affects women’s careers
D. Men face it more
What did Cheta’s husband do before his death?
A. A teacher
B. A doctor
C. A banker
D. A lawyer
How does Cheta’s story inspire leadership?
A. By showing how to fight with violence
B. By showing bravery, resilience, and courage
C. By obeying rules quietly
D. By giving up

Answer Key

Friday, September 20, 2024

"The Dispenser of Holy Water" by Guy De Maupassant: Finding Strength Through Positivity Skills

The Dispenser of Holy Water

by Guy de Maupassant

They lived formerly in a little house beside the high road outside the village. He had set up in business as a wheelwright, after marrying the daughter of a farmer of the neighborhood, and as they were both industrious, they managed to save up a nice little fortune. But they had no children, and this caused them great sorrow. Finally a son was born, whom they named Jean. They both loved and petted him, enfolding him with their affection, and were unwilling to let him be out of their sight.

When he was five years old some mountebanks passed through the country and set up their tent in the town hall square.

Jean, who had seen them pass by, made his escape from the house, and after his father had made a long search for him, he found him among the learned goats and trick dogs, uttering shouts of laughter and sitting on the knees of an old clown.

Three days later, just as they were sitting down to dinner, the wheelwright and his wife noticed that their son was not in the house. They looked for him in the garden, and as they did not find him, his father went out into the road and shouted at the top of his voice, "Jean!"

Night came on. A brown vapor arose making distant objects look still farther away and giving them a dismal, weird appearance. Three tall pines, close at hand, seemed to be weeping. Still there was no reply, but the air appeared to be full of indistinct sighing. The father listened for some time, thinking he heard a sound first in one direction, then in another, and, almost beside himself, he ran, out into the night, calling incessantly "Jean! Jean!"

He ran along thus until daybreak, filling the, darkness with his shouts, terrifying stray animals, torn by a terrible anguish and fearing that he was losing his mind. His wife, seated on the stone step of their home, sobbed until morning.

They did not find their son. They both aged rapidly in their inconsolable sorrow. Finally they sold their house and set out to search together.

They inquired of the shepherds on the hillsides, of the tradesmen passing by, of the peasants in the villages and of the authorities in the towns. But their boy had been lost a long time and no one knew anything about him. He had probably forgotten his own name by this time and also the name of his village, and his parents wept in silence, having lost hope.

Before long their money came to an end, and they worked out by the day in the farms and inns, doing the most menial work, eating what was left from the tables, sleeping on the ground and suffering from cold. Then as they became enfeebled by hard work no one would employ them any longer, and they were forced to beg along the high roads. They accosted passers-by in an entreating voice and with sad, discouraged faces; they begged a morsel of bread from the harvesters who were dining around a tree in the fields at noon, and they ate in silence seated on the edge of a ditch. An innkeeper to whom they told their story said to them one day:

"I know some one who had lost their daughter, and they found her in Paris."

They at once set out for Paris.

When they entered the great city they were bewildered by its size and by the crowds that they saw. But they knew that Jean must be in the midst of all these people, though they did not know how to set about looking for him. Then they feared that they might not recognize him, for he was only five years old when they last saw him.

They visited every place, went through all the streets, stopping whenever they saw a group of people, hoping for some providential meeting, some extraordinary luck, some compassionate fate.

They frequently walked at haphazard straight ahead, leaning one against the other, looking so sad and poverty-stricken that people would give them alms without their asking.

They spent every Sunday at the doors of the churches, watching the crowds entering and leaving, trying to distinguish among the faces one that might be familiar. Several times they thought they recognized him, but always found they had made a mistake.

In the vestibule of one of the churches which they visited the most frequently there was an old dispenser of holy Water who had become their friend. He also had a very sad history, and their sympathy for him had established a bond of close friendship between them. It ended by them all three living together in a poor lodging on the top floor of a large house situated at some distance, quite on the outskirts of the city, and the wheelwright would sometimes take his new friend's place at the church when the latter was ill.

Winter came, a very severe winter. The poor holy water sprinkler died and the parish priest appointed the wheelwright, whose misfortunes had come to his knowledge, to replace him. He went every morning and sat in the same place, on the same chair, wearing away the old stone pillar by continually leaning against it. He would gaze steadily at every man who entered the church and looked forward to Sunday with as much impatience as a schoolboy, for on that day the church was filled with people from morning till night.

He became very old, growing weaker each day from the dampness of the church, and his hope oozed away gradually.

He now knew by sight all the people who came to the services; he knew their hours, their manners, could distinguish their step on the stone pavement.

His interests had become so contracted that the entrance of a stranger in the church was for him a great event. One day two ladies came in; one was old, the other young--a mother and daughter probably. Behind them came a man who was following them. He bowed to them as they came out, and after offering them some holy water, he took the arm of the elder lady.

"That must be the fiance of the younger one," thought the wheelwright. And until evening he kept trying to recall where he had formerly seen a young man who resembled this one. But the one he was thinking of must be an old man by this time, for it seemed as if he had known him down home in his youth.

The same man frequently came again to walk home with the ladies, and this vague, distant, familiar resemblance which he could not place worried the old man so much that he made his wife come with him to see if she could help his impaired memory.

One evening as it was growing dusk the three strangers entered together. When they had passed the old man said:

"Well, do you know him?"

His wife anxiously tried to ransack her memory. Suddenly she said in a low tone:

"Yes--yes--but he is darker, taller, stouter and is dressed like a gentleman, but, father, all the same, it is your face when you were young!"

The old man started violently.

It was true. He looked like himself and also like his brother who was dead, and like his father, whom he remembered while he was yet young. The old couple were so affected that they could not speak. The three persons came out and were about to leave the church.

The man touched his finger to the holy water sprinkler. Then the old man, whose hand was trembling so that he was fairly sprinkling the ground with holy water, exclaimed:

"Jean!"

The young man stopped and looked at him.

He repeated in a lower tone:

"Jean!"

The two women looked at them without understanding.

He then said for the third time, sobbing as he did so:

"Jean!"

The man stooped down, with his face close to the old man's, and as a memory of his childhood dawned on him he replied:

"Papa Pierre, Mamma Jeanne!"

He had forgotten everything, his father's surname and the name of his native place, but he always remembered those two words that he had so often repeated: "Papa Pierre, Mamma Jeanne."

He sank to the floor, his face on the old man's knees, and he wept, kissing now his father and then his mother, while they were almost breathless from intense joy.

The two ladies also wept, understanding as they did that some great happiness had come to pass.

Then they all went to the young man's house and he told them his history. The circus people had carried him off. For three years he traveled with them in various countries. Then the troupe disbanded, and one day an old lady in a chateau had paid to have him stay with her because she liked his appearance. As he was intelligent, he was sent to school, then to college, and the old lady having no children, had left him all her money. He, for his part, had tried to find his parents, but as he could remember only the two names, "Papa Pierre, Mamma Jeanne," he had been unable to do so. Now he was about to be married, and he introduced his fiancee, who was very good and very pretty.

When the two old people had told their story in their turn he kissed them once more. They sat up very late that night, not daring to retire lest the happiness they had so long sought should escape them again while they were asleep.

But misfortune had lost its hold on them and they were happy for the rest of their lives.

Summary:

A wheelwright and his wife, once joyful in their small home, faced deep sorrow when their son Jean went missing after a circus visit. Despite their heartbreak, they remained hopeful and devoted to finding him. Their search took them to Paris, where they encountered the kindness of strangers and formed a friendship with an elderly holy water dispenser.

Through perseverance and love, they continued to believe in the possibility of a reunion. One day, in a church filled with light and hope, they spotted a young man who bore a striking resemblance to Jean. When the wheelwright called out his name, the young man responded, recalling his parents' names with joy.

Their reunion was filled with tears of happiness as Jean shared his remarkable journey. Despite the hardships he faced, he had been educated and raised by a caring woman, always holding onto the memory of his parents.

This heartwarming reunion reminded them of the power of love and resilience. They celebrated their newfound happiness, embracing their family ties with gratitude. Together, they looked forward to a bright future, leaving behind years of sorrow and embracing the joy of being together once more. Their story ended on a note of positivity, showing that hope can lead to beautiful transformations in life.

Thinking about positivity skills:

1. What is hope?

Ans: Hope is the belief that positive outcomes are possible, even in difficult situations. It encourages us to stay motivated and look forward to better times ahead. Hope helps us maintain a positive mindset and inspires resilience.

2. What is optimism?

Ans: Optimism is the tendency to see the good in situations and expect positive outcomes. It involves focusing on possibilities and believing that challenges can be overcome. Optimism encourages a proactive attitude and helps build resilience in the face of adversity.

3. What is positivity?

Ans: Positivity is the practice of focusing on the good things in life. It involves seeing challenges as opportunities and maintaining a hopeful outlook. Being positive can improve mental health and strengthen relationships.

4. How are hope, optimism and positivity different?

Ans: Hope, optimism, and positivity are related but different concepts.

Hope is the belief that things can get better, even in tough times.

Optimism is a general outlook that good things are likely to happen in the future.

Positivity is about actively focusing on the good in situations and maintaining a cheerful attitude. While hope and optimism are more about beliefs about the future, positivity is about the mindset we carry in our daily lives.

5. Are any of these attitudes important in living a good life? What would they be and why?

Ans: Yes, these attitudes are important for a good life.

Hope helps us stay strong during tough times and motivates us to keep going.

Optimism encourages a positive view, making us open to new chances and experiences, which improves our mental health.

Positivity helps us enjoy life, build better relationships, and handle stress. Together, they support happiness and fulfillment.

Workplace Skills:

1. Do employed people help other unemployed people find jobs? Why do you think they do so?

Ans: Yes, some employed people help others find jobs. They do this because they care or want to support friends and family. They may also know about job openings.

2. Does an unemployed person help an employee with his job? How so?

Ans: Sometimes, an unemployed person can help with small tasks. They may give advice or share ideas. They also help by filling in if needed.

3. How do you think being unemployed affects both the individual and the organisation? Are there different kinds of unemployment? What could some of them be?

Ans: Unemployment makes a person feel sad or stressed. It also means the organisation may lack skilled workers. Yes, there are types like seasonal, structural, and frictional unemployment.

4. How does an employer treat unemployment in candidates who apply for jobs, especially in less structured sectors such as agriculture, construction, etc.?

Ans: In less structured jobs, employers may not mind short unemployment. They look more at skills and experience. But long gaps may raise questions.

Case Study / Real Life Experience:

(In a paragraph of 150 words write about someone you know who had to face a lot of hardships in their professional life but managed to make the best of a bad situation with a positive attitude.)

I know a man named Rajesh who worked as a clerk in a small office. He lost his job during the COVID-19 pandemic, and it was a very hard time for him. With no income, he had to sell his bike and borrow money to take care of his family. Many people would have given up, but Rajesh stayed strong. He decided to start a small business from home by selling homemade snacks. At first, he didn’t earn much, but he didn’t lose hope. Slowly, his snacks became popular in the neighborhood. He used social media to reach more customers. Within a year, he started earning more than he did at his old job. Rajesh now employs two helpers and plans to open a small shop. His story teaches us that with a positive attitude and hard work, we can turn tough times into success. He truly inspired me.

MCQs – The Dispenser of Holy Water

What was the man’s profession at the beginning of the story?
A) Farmer
B) Priest
C) Wheelwright
D) Shopkeeper
Why were the couple unhappy at first?
A) They were poor
B) They had no children
C) They lost their house
D) They were sick
What was their son’s name?
A) Pierre
B) Jean
C) Joseph
D) Paul
At what age did Jean go missing?
A) Three
B) Five
C) Seven
D) Ten
Who took Jean away?
A) Thieves
B) School teachers
C) Circus people
D) Relatives
What was Jean doing when his father first found him with the mountebanks?
A) Crying
B) Laughing
C) Sleeping
D) Eating
What was Jean sitting on when his father first found him with the mountebanks?
A) A bench
B) The clown's knees
C) A chair
D) The floor
What did the parents do after losing Jean for the second time?
A) Reported to police
B) Went back home
C) Sold their house
D) Moved to the city
Why did the parents sell their house?
A) To pay debts
B) To go on a vacation
C) To search for Jean
D) To move closer to family
Where did they finally decide to search for Jean?
A) In Paris
B) In a nearby village
C) In the circus
D) In the mountains
How did the couple survive when their money ran out?
A) Sold clothes
B) Took loans
C) Worked in farms and inns
D) Stayed with relatives
What job did the old man get in the church?
A) Bell ringer
B) Priest
C) Dispenser of holy water
D) Cleaner
Who first held the job in the church before the old man?
A) Jean
B) A priest
C) An old man with a sad history
D) The old woman
What season caused the first holy water dispenser’s death?
A) Summer
B) Spring
C) Monsoon
D) Winter
What did the priest do after the holy water dispenser died?
A) Closed the church
B) Appointed the old man
C) Asked Jean to return
D) Hired a new priest
Why did the old man look at everyone entering the church?
A) He was suspicious
B) He wanted money
C) He hoped to find his son
D) He liked meeting people
What made the old man interested in a young stranger?
A) His clothing
B) His hairstyle
C) His face looked familiar
D) He donated money
Who helped the old man identify the stranger?
A) Priest
B) Wife
C) Neighbors
D) Children
What did the woman say about the young stranger's face?
A) It looked tired
B) It was like his father’s when young
C) It was ugly
D) It looked like a farmer
What name did the old man shout when he recognized the stranger?
A) Paul
B) Pierre
C) Jean
D) Joseph
How did the young man react when he heard the name “Jean”?
A) He ignored it
B) He ran away
C) He cried and recognized them
D) He argued
What two words had the young man never forgotten?
A) Paris, Church
B) Papa Pierre, Mamma Jeanne
C) Holy Water
D) His school name
Who had taken care of Jean after the circus disbanded?
A) A rich businessman
B) A police officer
C) An old lady in a château
D) A teacher
What did the old lady give Jean?
A) Land
B) A house
C) Money
D) Food
What did Jean try to do once he grew up?
A) Travel abroad
B) Become a priest
C) Find his parents
D) Join the army
Why couldn’t Jean find his parents earlier?
A) He had forgotten their names
B) He was too busy
C) He had no money
D) He didn’t want to
Whom did Jean introduce to his parents?
A) His friend
B) His uncle
C) His fiancée
D) His teacher
What was the fiancée like?
A) Rude
B) Arrogant
C) Pretty and kind
D) Quiet and shy
How did the parents react when they reunited with Jean?
A) They fainted
B) They cried with joy
C) They ran away
D) They blamed him
How did the ladies with Jean react to the reunion?
A) Confused
B) Uninterested
C) Surprised and touched
D) Angry
What made the couple stop sleeping the night of the reunion?
A) Cold
B) Happiness
C) Illness
D) Fear of theft
How had the old man changed by the end of the story?
A) Sad and weak
B) Healthy and angry
C) Joyful and peaceful
D) Rich and proud
What was the tone of the ending?
A) Tragic
B) Hopeless
C) Joyful
D) Mysterious
Which literary theme is strong in the story?
A) War
B) Betrayal
C) Hope and reunion
D) Magic
What type of narrator tells this story?
A) First-person
B) Second-person
C) Third-person
D) Jean himself
Why did the couple stay near churches in Paris?
A) For food
B) To ask for help
C) To look for Jean
D) To meet priests
What did they often do when they saw crowds?
A) Ran away
B) Watched faces
C) Asked for food
D) Sat quietly
What age was Jean when he got lost?
A) Four
B) Five
C) Six
D) Seven
What emotion is described most in the story?
A) Anger
B) Jealousy
C) Love and sorrow
D) Greed
Why did Jean’s parents start begging?
A) They liked it
B) They were tricked
C) They had no other option
D) They were punished
What memory helped Jean recognize his parents?
A) Church visits
B) Family photo
C) Names he used as a child
D) A necklace
Who noticed the resemblance to Jean first?
A) Priest
B) Wife
C) Stranger
D) Old lady
How does Maupassant create suspense in the story?
A) Using magic
B) Hiding the truth
C) Revealing Jean slowly
D) Telling jokes
What was the holy water used for?
A) Cleaning
B) Blessing people
C) Drinking
D) Cooking
What did the old couple do every Sunday?
A) Go to temple
B) Visit family
C) Wait outside churches
D) Sleep
Why was the old man excited about Sundays?
A) He got paid
B) More people came to church
C) He had free food
D) He could rest
What kind of job is a “dispenser of holy water”?
A) Rich man’s job
B) Beggar’s job
C) Simple and humble job
D) Dangerous job
What shows Jean was kind-hearted?
A) He lived alone
B) He forgot his past
C) He cried and hugged his parents
D) He ignored the couple
What role does Paris play in the story?
A) Place of loss
B) Place of reunion
C) Dangerous place
D) Unknown place
What message does the story give us?
A) Life is short
B) Money is power
C) Hope and love bring people together
D) Work hard to be rich

English Language and Literature: A Study Guide for Students

Monday, July 21, 2025