
<analyzerdatas>
  <analyzerdata id="101" name="goodnight by m.j. mcgover" trainedclass="negative">
    <entry><![CDATA[GOODNIGHT by M.J. McGovern Mommy goes, "ssh, ssh. Go to sleep little baby." Daddy goes, "yawn, yawn. Go to sleep little baby." Kitty goes, "pun, purr. Go to sleep little baby." Birdy goes, "tweet, tweet. Go to sleep little baby." Everyone looks at baby. Baby goes, "coo, coo." Baby goes, "yawn, yawn." Baby falls asleep. Birdy yawns and falls asleep. Kitty yawns and falls asleep. McGovern/Good Night Pg.2 Daddy yawns and falls asleep. Mommy yawns and falls asleep. Everyone falls asleep. Good night. The End]]></entry>
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  <analyzerdata id="102" name="a butterfly and a banana " trainedclass="negative" entry="A Butterfly and a Banana Pie by Estella Scott Happily flying around, a butterfly named Lynn saw a house with an open window. Lynn flew tlu·ough the window and saw a banana p1e. She landed on the table and began to eat the pie. Betty, the woman who lives there saw the butterfly and shooed her away. Betty decided the pie was ruined and threw it away. Betty made another pie and put it on the table. When Betty went to eat the pie, she saw the same butterfly eating her pie! She shooed her away and tluew away the pie. Betty did not know why the butterfly was eating her pie. Betty went to the library and learned butterflies like to eat sweet food. Betty decided she liked seeing the beautiful butterfly. She still did not like the butterfly eating her pie. Betty made another pie. Then put a banana on a plate and put the plate on the window sill. Betty and Lynn are now friends. Together every week they eat a banana and a banana pie."/>
  <analyzerdata id="103" trainedclass="negative">
    <name><![CDATA[andy, you earned it "mom,]]></name>
    <entry><![CDATA[ANDY, YOU EARNED IT "Mom, Dad, look at this!" Andy pointed excitedly at the bright poster on the community bulletin board. "The Great River Race," Andy's mom read. "Raft down Central River from the north bridge to the south bridge. The race begins at 11:00 a.m., Sunday, July 23rd. The winner of each age group will receive a trophy and a gift certificate to Outdoor Supplies." "That's this weekend," Andy realized, tuming to his parents. "Can I?" He continued reading, "ages twelve to fourteen can enter the begi1mer's race. Raft materials will be provided. Construct your raft beginning at 8:30a.m." "I'm a good swimmer, and I've rafted the river lots of times by myself, and I am twelve," Andy added. Andy's parents glanced at each other. "I'm sure you'd do great," his dad said, "but the race is in three days. How will you be able to eam the twenty-five dollar entry fee in time?'' Andy thought for a moment. "Be home later," he called. He sprinted down the cracked sidewalk toward the big white house at the edge of town where his sixth grade teacher lived. Andy flew up the rickety stairs onto the weathered porch and knocked on the door. "Hi, Mr. Johnson. I need to find some work so I can eam twenty-five dollars to enter the rafting race. Can you help me?" Andy blurted out. Mr. Johnson scratched his bristly-white chin. "I think we can work something out." Mr. Johnson led Andy to his old, two-story barn. The heavy wooden door shrieked as it open. The smell of moldy hay burned Andy's nostrils. Andy's eyes widened. The whole thing? he thought. "Here's a pitchfork, and you can use that to haul," Mr. Johnson said, pointing to an orange, rusted wheelbarrow propped against one wall. "Just dump it out back by the old car." Mr. Johnson waved toward a small side door opposite them. When he finally finished Andy's arms and legs were throbbing. "Thank you, Andy," Mr. Johnson said simply as he handed Andy two crisp bills. Andy stared for a moment at his bard-earned money. His aches and pains disappeared as a smile crept over his face then be thanked Mr. Johnson and sprinted for home. He could almost see his house when suddenly he stumbled over a deep crack in the sidewalk and skidded across the crumbling cement. Blood trickled down his scraped elbow and his denim pants were torn, but none of that mattered. He rose up on his bands and scanned the area for his money. There it was dancing in the wind only a few feet away. Andy sprang to his feet just as a gust of wind whisked it away. His crinkled money came to rest a few inches away from a drain. He pounced again. Andy managed to capture one bill while he watched helplessly as the other fell down just beyond his fingertips. He plopped down on the hard sidewalk more heartbroken than hurt with only five dollars in hand. How will I ever get twenty more dollars in time to enter the race? Andy wondered. He carefully brushed debris from scrapes while glancing at the surrounding houses. He attempted to patch his ripped pants leg with the dangling threads. "I know," he thought aloud, "I can see if Mr. Smith needs help washing animals." Andy limped his way down a side street not far away to a small blue house belonging to Mr. Smith who owned a small pet grooming shop. He stopped to wipe his feet before entering. A moment later he was greeted by a brown-haired man with a friendly smile. "Can I help you, Andy?" Andy explained about the rafting race and that he needed to eam twenty dollars for his entry fee. "Mr. Smith, do you have any work for me?" He thought for a moment. "I just got two poodles in and they need washed and dried by four o'clock. I could really use the help today, too. I'm sure that would be worth twenty dollars." "Mr. Smith, you're the best!" Andy puffed suds from his face as he massaged soap into their curly white fur. He was amazed at how ealm the dogs were in that small tub. He gently rinsed away the foam and then dried each. When he was finished Andy placed them gently in their pet taxi. Andy thanked Mr. Smith and stuffed his money deep into his pocket this time. It was late aftemoon when Andy trudged through his front door and plopped down into his favorite chair, exhausted and hungry. "What's wrong?" Andy's mom asked eoncemed. Andy explained everything. "Now I hurt all over and I'm so tired. I made the entry fee all by myself, though," Andy's dad smiled. "I'm proud of you son. You really earned it."]]></entry><![CDATA[andy, you earned it "mom,]]>
  </analyzerdata>
  <analyzerdata id="104" name="the desert adventure one " trainedclass="negative">
    <entry><![CDATA[The Desert Adventure One January morning Samuel John Schmitthenner, known as Sam Schmitthenner at school, woke up with a special power. He could think of a place and instantly be there. That is how he came to be standing all by himself in a Nevada desert. As Sam looked around, he saw sand in every direction, North, East, South, and West. Sam thought maybe the special power came from eating the special round pancake, an ableskiver that his grandma had made for him. It was the only new thing he had eaten. Sam looked more carefully at the little scraggly bushes scattered across the desert. Under the bushes were small holes. Maybe snakes lived in the holes. He heard a lizard darting for safety as he walked nearer to the bushes. Sam jumped as a jackrabbit popped up from a nearby bush. The jackrabbit was two feet tall. Sam was about twice as tall as the hare. The jackrabbit ran across the desert quickly. Sam took out his stopwatch and ran after the rabbit. The rabbit ran two miles in three minutes. While chasing the rabbit, Sam saw a lake. As Sam got closer to the lake, it disappeared. It wasn't really a lake. It was a mirage. The sky was reflected onto the desert, looking like water. Sam was thirsty. He took out his blue Toy Story water bottle. The jackrabbit was gone. All Sam saw was a tumbleweed rolling along in the breeze. Sam thought the jackrabbit has got to be here somewhere! Choose what Sam is going to do: Choice 1: Fly a kite. Choice 2: look for the jackrabbit. Choice 1 Fly A Kite Sam took out a new kite from his backpack. He carefully let the string out. The wind carried his kite higher and higher. The kite jerked Sam into the air. He hung on carefully, soaring high above the desert. The wind began to blow harder. Sand blew in Sam's hair and eyes. Sam decided it was time to go home. He was sitting on the couch in the living room. His mother told him it was time for dinner. She hadn't noticed that he had been gone. That was a close one, he thought. The End Choice 2: look for the jackrabbit. Sam followed the jackrabbit's tracks. He took out his binoculars. He noticed a horned toad. He quietly walked up to the horned toad. He picked up the lizard. The horned toad squirted blood out of its eyes. Sam accidently dropped the lizard. Sam decided it was time to go home. He was sitting on the couch in the living room. His mother told him it was time for dinner. She hadn't noticed that he had been gone. That was a close one, he thought. The End]]></entry>
  </analyzerdata>
  <analyzerdata id="105" trainedclass="negative">
    <name><![CDATA[aunt mona's flute by marc]]></name>
    <entry><![CDATA[Aunt Mona's Flute By Marcia K. Wasson "Oh, no! Not again!" Allison said. "I'm going to be in so much trouble." Allison heard the front door close, and she !mew she didn't have much time. She ran out of her older brother's room and down the hall to the last door. Allison quickly opened the door, flipped the light switch on the wall, quietly closed the door behind her and ran up the steps. She did it again. She broke something that belonged to her older brother Sam. "It's not my fault," she said. "He shouldn't leave breakable stuff out. Especially when he knows I'll look at it." Sam had a microscope in his room on his desk. Allison wasn't supposed to use it when he wasn't around. But a few minutes earlier she had prepared three slides: a leaf from the new Wasson, page 2, Aunt Mona's Flute Boston fern in the living room, a purple carpet fiber from her bedroom and a sliver from a bar of facial soap. She had broken the microscope while adjusting it for the second slide. "Why am I always breaking something?" she asked herself. She pushed her brown hair behind her ears and looked around the dusty attic wondering what to do. At the far end of the attic was her Aunt Mona's old beaten up wooden chest. Allison walked over to the chest and carefully opened it. Sitting on top of a cream blanket was a shiny flute. Allison picked it up. "This flute is much nicer than the one I play in the school band. I wonder why mom bought me one instead of letting me use Aunt Mona's." Allison wiped the mouthpiece off and lifted it to her lips and started playing. Wow, I sound great, she thought. Quickly, she pulled the flute away from her lips. "Oops," she said. "Someone is going to hear me." Allison looked around at the attic walls, ceiling and floor. "Nah, they won't hear me if I play quietly." She continued to play as quietly as she could. When she checked her watch she was surprised to see that it was almost dilmer time. That's strange, she thought. She hasn't heard any noises downstairs. Sam should be furious by now and looking for her. Allison set the flute back down in the chest and carefully closed the lid. She left the attic and walked into the kitchen. Her mom, dad, and Sam were preparing di1mer. "It's about time you showed up," her mom said to her. Uh-oh, thought Allison. They know. "Why?" she asked her mom; her lip quivering. "Because tonight is taco night and we need your help, squirt," Sam told her. "Grab the head of lettuce and start chopping." Wasson, page 3, Aunt Mona's Flute "Oh, okay," Allison replied cautiously. Hasn't he seen his microscope? Isn't he upset? She grabbed the lettuce and started chopping. The rest of the evening was uneventful. The microscope was never mentioned. At eight o'clock Allison went upstairs to get ready for bed. After climbing in bed and pulling up the covers, her mom walked in and gave Allison a hug. "Goodnight, Allison." "Goodnight, Mom." Her mom walked towards the door and Allison called out, "Hey, Mom? Can I talk to you about something?" Her mom stopped in the doorway and turned around. "Sure, what's up?" "I did something really bad today, but no one has said anything about it." "We know about it, Allison. It was actually nice." Allison was puzzled. Nice? How can that be? "We heard you playing Aunt Mona's flute this afternoon before dinner. Your playing has improved a lot this school year." She thinks I'm talking about the flute, Allison thought. Doesn't she know about the microscope? Sam appeared in the doorway. "Hey, squirt. Thanks for getting the slides ready for me to look at. I've looked at all of them. Pretty cool! Check them out in the morning, okay?" "Okay. Is your microscope okay?" Allison asked. "Of course. Why wouldn't it be? Good night," Sam said as he left. "Good night, Sam." Wasson, page 4, Aunt Mona's Flute "About that flute," her mom said. "I'm sorry I got into the chest, Mom." "That's okay. I had forgotten all about your aunt's flute. When your Aunt Mona was about your age she told me it was magical." "Magical? How?" Allison asked as she sat up and leaned forward. "When Aunt Mona was about your age she had worn my special heart necklace without permission and she broke the chain. She hid out in her closet and played that flute while she tried to figure out what to do. When she finished playing she noticed the chain wasn't broken." "So your necklace wasn't broken after all?'' Allison asked. "Nope. It was just fine. But your aunt had insisted it had been broken. She really had believed the flute was magical. Isn't that silly?" "It doesn't sound so silly to me. Mom, do you think Aunt Mona will let me have her flute?" "We will ask her the next time we talk to her. Go to sleep now. Good night, Allison." "Good night, Mom."]]></entry><![CDATA[aunt mona's flute by marc]]>
  </analyzerdata>
  <analyzerdata id="106" name="deep in the city by margi" trainedclass="negative">
    <entry><![CDATA[DEEP IN THE CITY By Margie J. Harding Kaitlyn Holmes and her parents lived in a cozy condominium in the middle of a big city. One morning as the family got ready for breakfast, Mr. Holmes, a business man, discovered his paper hadn't been delivered. Every good business man needs a newspaper to stay on top of the business world. "I need to go out for a little while to get a newspaper," said Mr. Holmes in his middle- sized, business man voice. "Let's all go," shouted the dark, curly haired, Kaitlyu, spinning and doing the latest kick she learned in Karate class. Harding, page 2 Deep In The City "Yes, let's," agreed Mrs. Holmes in her soft, teacher voice. "Breakfast can wait. Everyone's cereal is ready except pouring the milk." Blue eyed, bronze skinned Kaitlyn, closed the door behind her as they left. Sandy, a naughty little boy, watched as the family walked down the long hall to the elevator. When they were out of sight, Sandy walked to the door, and turned the knob and door opened. Kaitlyn, the last one out, forgot to lock it. Sandy went in. Seeing breakfast on the table Sandy began helping himself. He found milk in the refrigerator and poured it on the smallest bowl of cereal. After tasting it, Sandy decided it was much too crunchy, and didn't finish. Sandy poured milk in the middle-sized bowl. He took one bite of it, but decided it was too mushy, so he didn't eat anymore of it. Next, Sandy poured milk in the biggest bowl. Tasting it, he decided it was neither too crunchy nor too mushy, but just right and he ate every bite. Becoming tired, Sandy wandered into the living room. He sat in the narrow, tall, wooden chair. Sandy didn't stay in the chair because it was too hard. Sandy climbed into the middle-sized chair. There were too many pillows making it too soft. Sandy didn't stay in that chair long either. Next, Sandy sat in the biggest chair. It felt just right so he sat a while. Harding, page 3 Deep In The City Sandy, being a careless, little boy, fell when he was getting out of the chair. Being angry at the chair because he had fallen, Sandy pushed the chair over. Sandy ventured into one of the bedrooms. He crawled onto the smallest bed. This water bed, filled with too much water made it much too firm. Next, Sandy crawled onto the middle-sized water bed. It didn't have enough water making it was much too sloshy. Sandy went into the next bedroom and crawled onto the biggest water bed. It had the right amount of water and felt just right. Sandy, being so comfortable, fell fast asleep. Mr. Holmes had his newspaper under his arm as the family entered their condo. As soon as they came in, they knew someone had been in their cozy home. "Someone has been eating my crunchy cereal from my small bowl," said Mr. Holmes in his middle-sized, business man voice. "Someone ha~ been eating my soft cereal from my middle-sized bowl," said Mrs. Holmes in her soft, teacher voice. Kaitlyn spinning, her feet slicing the air, shouted, "Someone has been eating my cereal from my big bowl and ate every bite." Harding, page 4 Deep In The City The family began looking around the rest of the house. They went to the living room. "Someone has been resting in my narrow, tall, wooden chair," said Mr. Holmes in his middle- sized, business man voice. "Someone has been resting in my soft, pillow chair," said Mrs. Holmes in her soft, teacher voice. Wheeling around, her legs striking the air, Kaitlyn shouted, "Someone has been resting in my chair and turned it over." Next the family went to look in their bedrooms. "Someone has been crawling on my very firm water bed," said Mr. Holmes in his middle-sized, business man voice. "Someone has been crawling on my soft, sloshy water bed," said Mrs. Holmes in her soft, teacher voice. "Someone has been crawling on my water bed," shouted Kaitlyn kicking and whirling," and he's still here." Startled from Kaitlyn's shouting, Sandy woke up. Seeing her arms and legs flying frightened him so much, Sandy ran from the condo as fast as his feet would carry him. Kaitlyn and her family never saw Sandy again and Kaitlyn always remembered to lock the door when she was the last one out from that time on.]]></entry>
  </analyzerdata>
  <analyzerdata id="107" name="a dog family my first pet" trainedclass="negative">
    <entry><![CDATA[A Dog Family My first pet was Maggie, a beautiful, gentle, golden retriever. Somehow Maggie knew we rescued her from the pound, and spent the next 14 years paying us back with cuddles, licks, and protection. At home, she greeted us with a pillow or a sock in her mouth, no matter how much my father scolded. We put ornaments high on our Christmas tree for protection from Maggie's massive tail, so strong it would knock over my younger brother. She was our family's protector and we loved her. After Maggie, we gave smaller dogs a try. My brother picked a beagle-collie mix he named WiCiT which stands for Wish Come True. I rescued a golden cocker spaniel I wanted to name Sampson, a horribly masculine name for such a tiny, cuddly dog. We settled on the nickname Sammy. WiCiT and Sammy were around for many years, bringing joy and happiness into our lives with a whip of their hyper tails. Now I have a black Labrador retriever with big brown eyes and a splash of white fur on his chest. We named him Indy, after my favorite movie character. My brother and I used to lie on the floor, Maggie as our pillow, and watch Indiana Jones repeatedly. Indy is an active dog who loves sports almost as much as we do. Tennis balls are his favorite. Whether we are on the tennis court or smacking balls down the driveway with a hockey stick, Indy is always there, his paws down, his tail up, ready to give chase. He likes football, too, but we put him in time out because sometimes he gets too rough. Plus the ball always gets too slobbery to throw! Dogs are an important part of my life. They are a lot of responsibility and I spend a lot of time bathing, brushing, feeding, and cleaning up after them. But they are always a lot of fun. They are a good friend when you need a hug and they keep your toes warm at night if your parents let them cuddle with you in bed. The warm feeling of coming home to someone so happy to see you is worth a few stray dog hairs on your clothes now and then. Some people don't understand the joy of pets, but my family is a dog family and I wouldn't have it any other way.]]></entry>
  </analyzerdata>
  <analyzerdata id="108" name="hand me down by lynn van " trainedclass="negative">
    <entry><![CDATA[Hand Me Down By Lynn van Lier "This blue shirt is too small," said Dylan. Mom laughed.  "I can see your tummy sticking out.  Pick out another one, and we'll give this one to your cousin, Stephen." "But it's my shirt." "You're too big for it now.  It will fit Stephen because he's smaller than you." Dylan was sad.  He picked out a green shirt. "I don't want to give this shirt away.  It's my favorite color." He pulled the shirt over her head. "We won't give this one away. It still fits," Mom said. "Will I have to give away my new jacket?" he asked. "No," Mom hugged him, "only clothes that you can't wear anymore." When Aunt Ellen brought Stephen over to play, Mom showed her the shirt. "Do you think Stephen would want this?" Mom asked. "It was mine, but it's too small for me," Dylan explained. Stephen smiled. "Wear now!" he said. Aunt Ellen put the shirt on Stephen. Dylan laughed, "It's a little big, but you'll grow into it.•]]></entry>
  </analyzerdata>
  <analyzerdata id="109" name="family tales by stephanie" trainedclass="negative">
    <entry><![CDATA[FAMILY TALES By Stephanie Ascough In the attic room of their grandparents' house, three sisters were curled up in their sleeping bags. Avery rolled over and grinned at the older two. "You're not asleep yet, are you?" She asked. "How can we be asleep if you're talking?" Norah said. "It's past your bedtime, Avery," said Sabrina, stifling a yawn. Avery sat up. "We should tell ghost stories," she said. "You know, like the ones Grampa told us today." Ascough, page 2, Family Tales "Good idea!" said Norah. "He told me one today when I went with him to the bank about a coyote that can hoot like an owl." "Well, don't take too long," Sabrina grumbled. "I'm tired." Avery scowled. "All we did today was play dress up and tea party. How can you be tired? Besides, you've stayed here before and I haven't. If I can't have real adventures here, I'm going to make up my own." Sadie pulled her sleeping bag over her head. Norah switched on a flashlight. 'Til go first," Avery began. "Once there lived a girl who was the worst snob ever. Her name was Delilah and she lived in this very house. One day she was so snobbish that she died. She was cursed to haunt this very place, keeping all the fun away from anyone who wanted to find it." Norah and Avery looked at Sabrina and started giggling. "Wow, she really must be asleep," Norah whispered. "Ok, my turn. Once, Grampa saw a coyote behind the house, you know, by the strawberry hill. Of course, coyotes are common here, but he could tell right away this was no ordinary coyote. Its eyes glowed red. And as Grampa watched-" "It began hooting like an owl!" Avery said. "Let me tell it, Av!" Norah protested. "The coyote began hooting like an owl. But not only that-as it made its way down the hill, it turned into a giant hoot owl and came flying at Grampa." Avery leaned forward. She hadn't expected this. "Grampa ran down the hill as fast as he could. Just in time, he realized that this was the Morphion, the shape-shifter as old as the hills. Seeing the Morphion is always bad luck." "What happens?" A very asked, her spine tingling. Ascough, page 3, Family Tales "Well," Norah said, lowering her voice, "At best, an accident is about to happen. At worst-" suddenly she stopped. A strange, hollow sound had reached their ears. "What is it?'' Avery whispered, squeezing Norah's hand. "I don't know," Norah said. Her eyes were wide with fear. The girls looked around the dark room, frozen to the floor. The sound echoed louder this time, eerily crying like a trapped animal. "Can the Morphion make other sounds?" asked Avery. "I'm not sure," Norah gulped. "C'mon, we have to look out the window." The sisters crept across the floor. Avery saw a twitch under the blanket that covered an old, over-stuffed chair. She yanked off the blanket and shouted, "Sabrina Hanks! You're sneakier than any Morphion!" Sabrina was crouching next to the chair, laughing so hard that she didn't protest when Avery snatched an IPod out of her hands. "And we thought you were asleep!" said Norah. She pointed to the IPod. "How'd you get that sound on there?" "I recorded Grampa making that sound when I visited last summer by myself," Sabrina said, catching her breath. "He told me the story of the Morphion. He said it might come in handy some day. You should have seen your faces!" She started laughing again. "I bet he used to scare his own siblings with stories like that when he was little," said Avery. "Of course," said Sabrina. "It runs in the family." This time, all three girls laughed. "So what did happen to Grampa when he saw the Morphion?" asked Avery when the three of them were back in their sleeping bags. "He didn't tell me," said Norah. "Me neither," said Sabrina. "He said it was for another day." Ascough, page 4, Family Tales "I'll ask him tomorrow," said Avery. "This place is full of adventure! That overgrown path behind the pond has to have a story behind it too. And if it doesn't, then I'll make one up-" "Avery!" her sisters groaned. "Go to sleep!" Avery smiled and snuggled down into her bed. She knew tomorrow was going to be lots of fun.]]></entry>
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  <analyzerdata id="110" name="the wades... play dress u" trainedclass="negative">
    <entry><![CDATA[The Wades... Play Dress Up Meet tbe Wades. Mr. Wade loves to get dressed up. Today he is wearing a red bow tie. Mrs. Wade is planting flowers. She wears a hat to keep the sun out of her face. They have three children. Princess loves to wear her mother's clothes and jewelry. She likes to put bows in her hair. Jake and Blake are twins. Tbey dress alike. Sometimes this confuses people ... even Mr. and Mrs. Wade! What kind of fun will the Wades have today? Today the Wades are going to play dress up! Mrs. Wade pulls a trunk out of the closet. It is filled with old clothes. Princess finds ballet slippers and dances across the room. Mr. Wade tries on a big hat with feathers sticking out of it. He waves a pretend sword. Arr, he's a pirate! Jake wants to be a pirate, too. Mrs. Wade ties a polka dot bandana around his head. He and Mr. Wade have a sword fight in the living room. Blake tries on a big cowboy hat. He sees pointy cowboy boots. What is he dressed up as? Princess is tired from twirling around. Being a ballerina is hard work. Mrs. Wade puts a baby bonnet on her head. Stop sucking your thumb Princess! Mr. Wade puts on her baby bonnet. It is much too small for him. Stop sucking your thumb Mr. Wadel Cowboy Blake is being attacked by pirates. How will he escape? Janelle Fila 2255 Sonora Road Zanesville, Ohio 43701 musteringmystery@yahoo.com 740-586-8725 Mrs. Wade puts on an apron. She is pretending to be a cook It is almost lunch time. Princess grabs a pen and paper. She is a waitress. She writes down Mr. Wades' lunch order. Jake and Blake put down their weapons. Fighting made them hungry. After lunch, they will change their costumes. Princess wants to be a mermaid. Jake wants to be a cop and arrest people. Blake wants to use his hose to put out fires. Mrs. Wade smiles. She knows they are in for a fun afternoon of dress up.]]></entry>
  </analyzerdata>
  <analyzerdata id="111" name="national teddy bear day b" trainedclass="negative">
    <entry><![CDATA[National Teddy Bear Day By: Kristin Kayser "Daddy, Daddy, Daddy!" Lucy called. She burst through the front door after racing home from school. She had so much to tell him and she didn't want her brother Gabe telling him first. Gabe was her twin. He was only four and a half minutes older, but he sure never let her forget it. "I'm going to tell Dad first!" Gabe said, bot on Lucy's heels. After rushing all over the bouse, Lucy found Dad in his study. He was sitting at his big wooden desk. Dad had just enough time to set his newspaper down before Lucy jumped into his lap. Dad chuckled, "Good afternoon to you too, Lucy. Did you have a good day at school?" Lucy nodded her bead eagerly, "Yep!" Lucy's blond ponytail bounced, nearly smacking Gabe in the face. She smiled victoriously as her brother glared at her. "Dad, did you !mow that there's a National Teddy Bear Day?" Lucy said. She looked at Gabe before continuing. She wanted to make sure he knew this was now her story to tell. Gabe looked back at her for a moment. Then he nearly shouted, "And it's tomorrow!" "Gabe!" Lucy cried. "I wanted to tell Dad! You pinky swore whoever got here first could tell him." Lucy hung her bead unable to bide her disappointment. "Now Gabe, a pinky swear is a pinky swear young man," said Dad, waving a pinky at his son. "Please, apologize to your sister and let her finish her story." Gabe's mouth hung open. He looked down at the tops of his shoes and mumbled, "Sorry, Lu." Lucy smiled forgivingly. "So like I was saying, there's a National Teddy Bear day and its tomorrow! Everyone gets to bring a teddy bear to school and play with it all day!" Dad smiled, "That sounds like a great day! Do you know which one of your bears you're going to take to school?" Lucy hadn't thought about that. She had so many. "I think I'll take Teddy," she said. "And Gabe could bring someone else, like Princess. He doesn't have his own Teddy bear." Lucy frowned a little. She still couldn't believe Gabe didn't have his own bear. "No way," Gabe shook his head. "I'm not taking one of your girlie stuffed animals to school. I'm going to take one of my action figures." "You can't do that," Lucy said. "It's National Teddy Bear Day." "I don't ... " Gabe started to object. Dad broke in, "That's very thoughtful of you to offer to share, Lucy. I wonder, has your teacher told you the history behind National Teddy Bear Day?" Both Gabe and Lucy looked at each other and shook their heads. Dad smiled, "Well it just so happens, I do. Theodore Roosevelt was the 26u' President of the United States and his nickname was 'Teddy."' "Like my Teddy bear!" said Lucy. "That's right, honey. Well one day, Teddy went out hunting with some of his friends. Towards the end of the trip the group cornered a bear cub. But Teddy refused to harm the innocent bear. When people heard the story a cartoon artist drew a picture of Teddy and the bear. This gave a toy maker the idea to make stuffed bears. With Teddy's permission he named them 'Teddy bears."' "Wow," said Lucy eyes wide. She looked at Gabe with a smile, "Are you sure you don't want to borrow one of my Teddy bears?'' Gabe tapped a finger on his chin, "Well, maybe. But I still don't want a girlie one!" Dad chuckled, "Why don't we go see what we can find you in Lucy's room?" "Yeah!" said Lucy hopping to the ground. Grabbing Gabe by the arm she called over her shoulder, "This is going to be the best National Teddy Bear Day ever!"]]></entry>
  </analyzerdata>
  <analyzerdata id="112" trainedclass="negative">
    <name><![CDATA[orme's winter adventure o]]></name>
    <entry><![CDATA[ORME'S WINTER ADVENTURE ORME WAS PERCHED WHERE SHE LIKED TO BE ON A DECEMBER NIGHT, RIGHT ON HER GRANDFATHER'S LAP AS CLOSE TO THE WOOD STOVE AS WAS SAFE. THEY HAD JUST FINISHED A MOST DELICIOUS SUPPER THAT MIMI HAD COOKED. VENISON FROM UNCLE GEORGE'S WOODS, SOME FRESH BRUSSELS SPROUTS FROM THE GARDEN, SOME PICKLED BEANS AND PICKLED BEETS AND A PIECE OF APPLE PIE HAD ROUNDED OUT THE FEAST. MAYBE IT WAS THE WARMTH OF THE WOODSTOVE, OR THE TUMMY FULL OF GOOD FOOD, OR BOTH, BUT SOON ORME WAS SLEEPING QUITE SOUNDLY AND IN THE LAND OF DREAMS. THE DREAM STARTED WELL ENOUGH. ORME WAS ALL BUNDLED UP IN HER WARM WINTER PLAY CLOTHES AND THE SUN WAS SHINING. SHE WAS IN A FIELD AND THERE WAS SNOW ALL OVER THE GROUND, BUT IT WASN'T SO DEEP THAT IT WAS HARD TO WALK THROUGH. IT WAS THE LIGHT FLUFFY KIND OF SNOW THAT FLOATED BRIEFLY WITH EACH FOOTSTEP AND SPARKLED IN THE SUNLIGHT. "THIS SNOW WILL HAVE TO AGE A BIT BEFORE IT'S GOOD FOR SLEDDING OR MAKING SNOWMEN", SHE MUSED. JUST THEN ORME HEARD THE UNMISTAKABLE SOUND OF
SLEIGH BELLS. SHE TURNED TO LOOK IN THE DIRECTION
THE SOUND HAD COME FROM AND CHANCED TO SEE A
SLEIGH JUST AS IT ENTERED THE WOODS NEXT TO THE
FIELD. IT WAS A BIG SLEIGH, BUT SHE COULDN'T SEE WHAT
TYPE OF ANIMAL WAS PULLING THE SLEIGH AND SHE JUST
MISSED SEEING THE DRIVER. SHE WALKED OVER TO THE
TWO NARROW TRACKS THAT WOUND THEIR WAY INTO THE
WOODS, AND DISAPPEARED AT THE FIRST SHARP BEND.
THE TRACKS OF THE ANIMALS PULLING THE SLbiGH WERE
INDISTINCT DUE TO THE FLUFFY SNOW, BUT A FEW OF
THEM LOOKED LIKE THE DEER TRACKS HER GRANDFATHER
HAD SHOWN HER ONCE IN THE GARDEN. COULD THEY BE
REINDEER TRACKS SHE WONDERED?
ORME STARTED OFF INTO THE WOODS. THE TRACKS WERE
EASY TO FOLLOW AT FIRST, BUT THEN A BREEZE STARTED
TO BLOW AND THE LIGHT SNOW STARTED TO DRIFT OVER
THE TRACKS. BY THE TIME SHE HAD HIKED PAST THE FIRST
BEND, AND THEN THE SECOND BEND AND THE THIRD BEND,
SHE WAS PRETTY DEEP INTO THE WOODS AND THE TRACKS
WERE NOW VERY FAINT. IN A SMALL CLEARING, SHE CAME
TO A PLACE WHERE THE TRAIL FORKED OFF, ONE TO THE
RIGHT AND ONE TO THE LEFT AND SHE COULDN'T REALLY
TELL WHICH WAY THE SLEIGH HAD GONE. WORSE, SHE
LOOKED BEHIND HER AND EVEN HER TRAIL OF BOOT
TRACKS HAD DRIFTED OVER AND COULDN'T BE SEEN. THE
SUN WAS STILL OUT, BUT SHE COULD TELL IT WAS GETTING
LOW ON THE HORIZON. THE SHADOWS FROM THE TREES
WERE GETTING LONG AND MORE TANGLED.
WHILE ORME WASN'T ONE TO FRIGHTEN EASILY, EVEN IN
HER DREAM SHE KNEW SHE DID NOT WANT TO BE ALL
ALONE IN THE WOODS IN WINTERTIME WHEN NIGHT FELL.
SHE PULLED HER STOCKING HAT DOWN A BIT FURTHER AND
WRAPPED HER SCARF TIGHTER AGAINST THE BREEZE.
JUST THEN SHE HEARD THE SLEIGHBELLS AGAIN. THEY
WERE OFF TO HER LEFT AND SHE COULD TELL THE SLEIGH
WAS HEADED AWAY FROM HER BECAUSE THE BELLS GOT
HARDER AND HARDER TO HEAR. SHE DECIDED TO TAKE
THE LEFT HAND FORK IN THE PATH AND HURRIED ON
LISTENING HARD FOR THE TINKLING SLEIGHBELLS.
THE SUN WAS SETTING FAST NOW AND THE WOODS FELT
LIKE THEY WERE GETTING THICKER, CLOSER AND DARKER.
ORME COULDN'T HEAR THE BELLS ANYMORE, BUT SHE
GAMELY TRUDGED ALONG THE PATH, A BIT TIRED FROM
ALL OF HER HIKING. AS SHE ROUNDED WHAT, BY HER
COUNT, WAS THE 13TH BEND IN THE PATH, THERE STOOD A
SLEIGH. THERE WAS AN OLD MAN SEATED IN THE DRIVER'S
SEAT AND HE SEEMED TO BE CHUCKLING TO HIMSELF. SHE
COULDN'T SEE HIS FACE IN THE GATHERING DARKNESS,
BUT WHEN HE REACHED DOWN TO HELP HER UP INTO THE
SLEIGH, SHE DIDN'T FEEL AFRAID AT ALL. SHE SNUGGLED
DOWN ON THE SEAT NEXT TO HIM AND THE SLEIGH
STARTED TO MOVE.
SOON THE SLEIGH WAS OUT OF THE WOODS AND SHE
COULD SEE THE LIGHTS OF A HOUSE ACROSS THE SNOWY
FIELD. SHE RECOGNIZED THE HOUSE AS GRANDFATHER
AND MIMI'S HOUSE. THE SLEIGH STOPPED RIGHT BY THE
FRONT DOOR AND THE OLD MAN DRIVING THE SLEIGH WAS
STILL CHUCKLING TO HIMSELF. HE TURNED TO ORME AND
SAID, "COME ON LITTLE ORME, WAKE UP, IT'S BEDTIME."
]]></entry><![CDATA[orme's winter adventure o]]>
  </analyzerdata>
  <analyzerdata id="113" name="gingerbread madness by: d" trainedclass="negative">
    <entry><![CDATA[Gingerbread Madness By: Deion Godwin My kitchen was the same as usual. It was painted white, with wooden cabinets, and a white tiled floor. I mixed the ingredients, and then put the cookie in the oven. I turned it up to 900 degrees Fahrenheit. Then, I pulled out the jumper cables from the garage and hooked them to the oven. I attached the other end to the car. I wanted to see if a cookie could come alive with enough electricity. I turned the oven on and waited for a few minutes. Then, it happened. The charred cookie burst out of the oven. It started to run around the kitchen, knocking things over. It knocked over the blender, the printer, and was very, very close to knocking down the refrigerator. It was surprisingly strong, and it had ripped up several tiles by the time it left the kitchen. Eventually, the gingerbread cookie got to the living room. The raging cookie knocked over the television, putting a huge crack in it. While all of this was happened, I picked up a candle full of liquid wax. I waited for the cookie to come close, then splashed the cookie with the wax, drenching myself in the process. Only the cookie's left arm and leg were frozen in wax. It was nearly at the door, when my parents came in. The cookie hobbled out the door, and I tried to chase it. Unfortunately, I realized my entire right leg was frozen in wax. !looked for something to pull it off with. "A pencil will have to do" I thought, and picked one up as I raced out of the door. Once safely outside, I started hacking at the wax on my lag with the pencil. After a few minutes, it came off. Just then, something hit me in the head. Hard. And everything went dark. When I woke up, I saw hundreds of them. Maybe even thousands, of gingerbread men. They were all dressed the same. They had red frosting for a shirt, blue frosting for the pants, and M&Ms for the eyes. All of them looked the same. But I was looking for one. The charred cookie. It only took me a few minutes to locate him. The minute I found that cookie, it took a few seconds to get your eyes to focus on him. He was rainbow colored, and almost completely covered in frosting. "What are you?" 1 asked, hoping for an answer, knowing it would never come. Some dust got into my eye, and when I rubbed it, the cookie disappeared, never to be seen again. I walked back to my house, knowing I was going to be grounded for life. But I was sure of one thing. I would never, ever bake gingerbread cookies again.]]></entry>
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  <analyzerdata id="114" name="two boys were walking dow" trainedclass="negative">
    <entry><![CDATA[Two boys were walking down a street during the summer of 1995 in Jamestown. The older of the two, named Connor, was 12, and his little brother named Zeke, was ten. Though they were not the same age, they looked remarkably similar, so you never knew which one you were talking to. They both had the figure of an average kid, with scrawny arms, but with strong running legs and light moustaches. The day was Friday the 13'h The boys had been dared to go into the underground caverns to investigate the mysterious "Ghost". It supposedly wandered the caverns at midnight looking for a way out. Many thought this story was an old tale to teach kids not to poke their noses where they don't belong. This included the boys. They had traveled to the cavern entrance to prove the town wrong. They had come fully equipped with explorers gear and headlamps. Before they went to the caverns, they checked their equipment. "All systems go." Connor said. Soon later, they were in the middle of a labyrinth of caves and walls. Zeke, being the one who is almost always scared, pointed out a low moaning sound. Connor dismissed it as just the wind. "But there is no wind down here." Zeke said. "Yes there is. It is going through the caverns." Connor said. Suddenly there was a screeching sound, and a figure materialized in front of them. "Get out!" the dark figure rasped. In an instant, the figure was gone. "That was creepy, I have to admit." said Connor. "I knew I shouldn't have eaten that chili dog." Zeke said, tired from the walking and sick from the dust and "wind" that continually blew through the caverns. Connor was weary too, but decided not to show it. "They better remember us for this." Connor said. Zeke screamed, and his echo traveled through the caverns. The older boy looked around, but his brother was nowhere to be seen. There was writing on the wall, written in blood, "Watch out, I'm coming for YOU!" it said. "Oh no, no, no." Connor stammered. "This is not good" The figure he had seen earlier reappeared. This time, it took the form of a fiery beast. ""I warned you." it screeched. Bewildered by the figure, and dazed by his brother's unfortunate death, Connor slumped down on a rock. The rock started to warm up and then burned Connor's back. Connor screamed, and the wind whispered, "He's coming." Seconds later, the boy disappeared. The Beast took another form, this time humanoid. It said one thing and one thing only," I am the Stalker, and these are MY caves!!!"]]></entry>
  </analyzerdata>
  <analyzerdata id="115" trainedclass="negative">
    <name><![CDATA[fat grapes "you're coming]]></name>
    <entry><![CDATA[Fat Grapes "You're coming over today," I say to Jordan as soon as he comes into the classroom. "My mom's picking us up. It's her day off from cooking at the diner." I sit next to jordan during Morning Meeting. I tell him about my hamster, Peanut, and my trampoline. We whisper about what we're going to do after school until Miss Barbino says, "Willem and Jordan, be good listeners." jordan is the smartest kid in my whole first grade class. He makes home runs in math baseball, and he can go all the way across the monkey bars. jordan looks like a fast brown horse, but !look like a big, fat, pale turnip. jordan has cool hair, too. Sometimes it's tight in little braids on his head, and sometimes it's all fluffy like broccoli. Mom says l think about food too much. I say, " How can I help it? l spend more time at the diner than I do at home." 2 When Mom lets jordan and me into the apartment, she says, "Boys, there's cheese cubes and grapes in the fridge. I'm going downstairs to get the laundry." The grapes are fat and juicy. The cheese is sharp cheddar, my favorite. jordan says, "Watch this!" He throws a grape into the air and catches it in his mouth. I try the trick and the grape hits my nose. We laugh. jordan tosses another grape high and it lands in his mouth. He makes a funny noise but he's not laughing. His eyes bulge big, and he grabs at his throat. Then he tries to speak, but no sound comes out. He's making an awful face and flapping his arms around. His skin has gone dark purple. The grape is stuck in jordan's throat! He can't breathe! "Mom!" I yell. She's in the basement! She can't hear me! Then I remember the poster at the diner. I've read it a million times: First Aid for Choking. I get behind jordan and wrap my arms under his ribs. I make a fist and hold it with my other hand, just like the picture on the poster. Whump! I yank up hard on jordan's stomach. I do it again, harder. The grape and a bunch ofyucky cheese barf splash out of his mouth onto the floor. jordan slides down on his knees, gasping and crying. Mom comes into the kitchen with a basket of clothes. "What's going on here?'' she says. "jordan was choking on a grape." 3 Mom calls 911. A few minutes later, the ambulance comes zooming into the parking lot. Two medical technicians check jordan. "He'll be okay," they tell us. "But he should go home and rest." "You got a smart kid there," the ambulance driver says to Mom. But I feel like crying. Our play date is over. The next day at Morning Meeting, jordan tells the class, "Willem's coming over tomorrow. He saved my life. We're friends forever."
If a person's airway, or windpipe, becomes blocked, an emergency technique
called the Heimlich Maneuver can be used to remove the blockage. First described
by physician Henry Judah Heimlich, the technique involves giving several thrusts to
the choking person's abdomen.
In adults and children, choking is most often caused by a piece offood caught
in the throat. Children may sometimes choke on a toy. The best prevention for
choking is to make sure food is in bite-size pieces, to eat without rushing, and to eat
sitting down. Walking, lying down, or playing while eating food is dangerous. And,
of course, keep small objects out of the mouths of small children.
For more information about choking prevention and choking hazards, go to
]]></entry><![CDATA[fat grapes "you're coming]]>
  </analyzerdata>
  <analyzerdata id="116" name="animals of the mojave des" trainedclass="negative">
    <entry><![CDATA[ANIMALS OF THE MOJAVE DESERT The western part of the United States includes many deserts. The large state of California contains the Mojave Desert. The Mojave Desert endures blazing, hot summers. The summer air is as dry as dust. In the winters, a small amount of rain refreshes the thirsty land. How do animals survive the desert's heat? The animals survive because of their natural traits. God created them that way. Rats scurry across the Mojave Desert. They are know as "kangaroo rats". They scratch out holes called "burrows". In the worst heat, the rats scramble down into their burrows. Deep in those burrows, the sand is not so hot. That's how kangaroo rats survive the scorching desert. Turtles also dwell in the Mojave Desert. These land turtles are called "tortoises". Tortoises hate the heat of the desert. Most of the year, they rest in their own burrows. They stay underground until springtime. Then, they come to the surface to find food. Tortoises find wild-flowers blooming on desert plants. They gobble those fresh wild- flowers to survive. Rabbits live in California's Mojave Desert, too. They are special rabbits called "Jackrabbits". Jackrabbits have very long legs for leaping. They leap and bound across the desert sand. Jackrabbits also have extra large ears. The big ears help the rabbits to cool off in the heat. The shade from a bush or a shrub also gives the rabbits some relief. The Mojave Desert also has t1ying creatures. Dark bats flap and screech. The bats catch juicy insects to survive. There are Barn owls, too. Barn owls have a unique, white face. They swoop down and snatch prey in the night. There also are Golden eagles. Golden eagles drift high above the desert sand. They dive from the sky to nab rabbits for dinner. And black ravens live in the Mojave, too. Ravens look similar to crows. With powerful wings, the ravens soar above the burning sand. They scan for baby tortoises to eat. Many lizards live in the Mojave Desert, too. On strong legs, the lizards dash across the sand. They scuttle up and down the hilly dunes. On the hottest days, lizards doze under bushes. They creep under rocks to avoid the searing sun. With their thick and scaly skin, the lizards can survive. Some of these lizards are Gila monsters. Gila monsters are the largest lizard species in the USA. They int1ict poison if they bite. Perhaps the Mojave's most beautiful animals are the Bighorn sheep. With heavy hooves, the Bighorn sheep climb over rocks and dunes. They travel in search of water. Sometimes, these sheep find pools from the winter's rain. They also drink at desert springs. Fresh water gushes from underground at desert springs. A variety of animal species exist in the Mojave Desert. These animals are able to cope in the harsh surroundings. They can endure or retreat from the heat. They have strong instincts for survival.]]></entry>
  </analyzerdata>
  <analyzerdata id="117" name="what do alice, theodore, " trainedclass="negative">
    <entry><![CDATA[What do Alice, Theodore, Kermit, Ethel, Archibald and Quentin have in common? The image of their dad, Theodore Roosevelt, is chiseled into Mt. Rushmore in South Dakota. A man of constant activity, President Theodore Roosevelt moved his active family into the Executive Mansion in 1901. He enjoyed hiking, hunting and sports. Roosevelt was just as loud and rowdy as his children, challenging them to pillow fights, and chasing them through the mansion halls. Speaking of mansion, Roosevelt officially changed the mansion's name to the White House. It is no surprise that his kids were always seen and heard in the White House. They slid down the banister into a fancy party. They walked on stilts down the stairs. And when their dad had important meetings in the president's office, the Oval Office, the kids would burst into the room without warning. 1 The Roosevelts had more pets than any of our country's first families. Among their many dogs were a Manchester terrier named Jack, Sailor Boy the Chesapeake retriever, and a mutt named Skip. A Chinese empress gave Alice a black Pekingese, Manchu. But their bull terrier Pete was a problem. Pete bit so many people (including a French ambassador) that the Roosevelts sent Pete back home to New York. Archibald, also known as Archie, had an Icelandic calico Shetland pony named Algonquin. Algonquin weighed three hundred fifty pounds. Archie was about nine years old in 1903. He had the measles and was too sick to go outside. So, Algonquin rode the White House elevator to visit Archie in his upstairs sick room. 2 One of the noisiest pets was a huge bird, Eli Yale. A Hyacinth macaw parrot, he belonged to ten-year-old Theodore also known as Ted. Eli had brightly colored feathers and he spent a lot of time crawling all over Ted. Eli's large, curved beak was very strong, and he probably made loud noises all the time. He would have mimicked words and sounds he heard. Eli probably didn't keep White House secrets very well. Badgers have sharp claws and are not always the nicest pets. But a child in Kansas gave President Roosevelt a badger. The president loved Josiah the badger so much that he fed him with a baby bottle. Would you like to be named Emily Spinach? That is what seventeen-year-old Alice named the live garter snake she often carried in her purse. 3 The youngest child Quentin was about four years old when the family moved into the White House. Called Quinikins by his dad, he bought four snakes and took them into the Oval Office. There were a lot of prominent people meeting with President Roosevelt that day. The snakes ended up wiggling and slithering on the president's desk and that caused a not-so-pleasant commotion. The children also had a rabbit named Peter, a black bear cub named Jonathan Edwards, and Bill the lizard. They kept a hyena, a barn owl, a one-legged rooster, squirrels, raccoons, and a rat. Their guinea pigs included Admiral Dewey, Bishop Doane, Dr. Johnson, Father O'Grady, and Fighting Bob Evans. Baron Spreckle the hen, Maude the pig, and Nibble the mouse also lived at the White House. How does a president end up with so many pets living with him in the White House? 4 Born in New York City in 1858, the future president was always sick. Called Teedie as a child, he spent most of his time in bed. Teedie did all of his school work at home, with the help of tutors. But when he was twelve, Theodore decided to change his life. He exercised, spent a lot of time outside, and became healthy. So, he read a lot about the animal world and collected hundreds of bugs and critters. He traveled to Europe and Egypt, and saw all kinds of unusual wildlife. When he went to college, he kept animals in his room. As an adult, Theodore enjoyed many different activities. He was a cowboy, cattle rancher, historian, and explorer. He also served in the military. He held many political positions including governor of New York and vice president of the United States. When President 5 McKinley died, Vice President Roosevelt became president at age forty-two. Americans loved him, and they often called him TR. In 1902, TR refused to shoot and kill an injured bear cub that hunters tied to a tree. Reporters ran stories about the incident. A New York toy maker saw the newspapers, created stuffed toy bears, and gave them the president's name. As a result, the still-popular toy bears are called "Teddy Bears," named after the youngest man who entered the presidency. It is no surprise that the noisy, active and mischievous Roosevelt kids owned so many pets when they lived in the White House. They were just like their dad, TR.]]></entry>
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  <analyzerdata id="118" name="can you write with both h" trainedclass="negative">
    <entry><![CDATA[Can you write with both hands at the same time? Here's an even crazier question. Can you write Latin with one hand while writing Greek with the other hand? Of our nation's presidents, James Garfield was the first of seven who were left handed. However, if he wanted to do so, Garfield could write with either hand. Even more interesting is that he could write in Latin with one hand and at the same time write in Greek with the other hand. Born in 1831, nothing about James Garfield's early life hinted of a future president. His parents were poor farmers on the Ohio frontier. His father died before James was two years old. The loss of his father left James and his siblings living in horrible poverty with their mother. As James grew older, he helped his mother by working the family farm. 1 At sixteen, James left the farm to work on canal boats. Boats were pulled through canals, often by mules. James was in charge of the mules that pulled the boats. He was pursuing his goal to become a sailor. However, James fell into the canal water sixteen times. As a result, he became ill. So, he gave up his dream of life on the sea. James decided to get an education and do something special with his life. He worked many odd jobs in order to pay for his education. He was a teacher, a carpenter, and a janitor during the years he attended college. In 1858, James married and started a family. Lucretia, or "Crete," as James called her, was an early supporter of women's 2 rights. She was also a good wife and mother. Together they raised seven children. That was a big family! So, in 1876, James purchased an Ohio farmhouse that was in terrible condition. He and Crete added rooms and a huge porch to the house, and worked hard to make it a wonderful home for their children and James's mother. Their thirty-room mansion became known as Lawnfield. James had many careers. He was a teacher and also a minister. But later he studied law on his own, never attending law school. In 1861, he passed the exam and became a lawyer. He was against slavery, and thus became involved in politics. In 1859, James entered the Ohio State Senate as the youngest member of the Ohio State Legislature, serving until1861. 3 As well, James served in the military during the Civil War, rising to the rank of major general in the Union Army. He became a Civil War hero during 1862, and again at Chickamauga in 1863. As U.S. Representative James Garfield, he served in Congress from 1863 to 1880. In 1880, he was elected to the U.S. Senate. James decided he wanted to be president of our nation. In 1880, people traveled from all over the country to meet him. Over 17,000 Americans went by train to greet James Garfield and to hear him give speeches on the front porch of his Mentor, Ohio, home. Garfield campaigned in both the English and German languages. 4 Garfield won the presidential election. But another odd fact about him is that on November 2, 1880, he was a U.S. Representative, and he was a U.S. Senator-elect, and he was U.S. President-elect. On April4, 1881, James Abram Garfield was sworn in as our nation's twentieth president. His mother was the first president's mother to ever attend her son's inauguration. But only one hundred days later, an assassin shot President Garfield. Using a new medical tool, Alexander Graham Bell tried unsuccessfully to find the bullet in the president's body. President Garfield lived for almost three months, but sadly he died on September 19, 1881. Lucretia Garfield wanted her husband to be remembered. So, four years after his death Lucretia created his memorial library at Lawnfield. She placed President Garfield's massive book collection, letters and other important items in the library. That was the first time in our nation's history that anyone created a library to honor a president. Since then, memorial libraries have been built in honor of many of our presidents. Today you may visit the James A. Garfield National Historic Site in Mentor, Ohio. You can tour his Lawnfield mansion, and also his presidential library, created to honor a Civil War hero, a politician and a president. As our nation's last president born in a log cabin, Garfield was possibly the poorest man to become president. But he did not allow poverty to slow him down. Garfield worked his way through college, and even taught himself law. President Garfield's life stands as an example of hard work, determination, and great accomplishments, despite hard times and huge challenges.]]></entry>
  </analyzerdata>
  <analyzerdata id="119" name="storm magic  	 annie look" trainedclass="positive" entry=" Storm Magic  	 Annie looked out the window at the rain. “There’s nothing to do. I wish we could play on the swings.” “Not until the rain stops,” Grandma said. “Let’s practice our magic tricks,” said Annie’s big sister, Kaitlyn. They found a pencil, a few beads, a paper cup, and a scarf. Like magic, Annie made the pencil stick to her hand. Kaitlyn dropped a bead into the cup – and the bead disappeared. But the girls got tangled in the scarf. When they untangled the scarf, Grandma clapped her hands. “Good show!” “Look,” Kaitlyn said. She pointed out the window. “Yay!” said Annie. “The storm made its own magic. First, the sun disappeared. Now the sun is back. And it brought a rainbow.”"/>
  <analyzerdata id="120" name="oh-oh by marie latta  fil" trainedclass="positive" entry="Oh-Oh By Marie Latta  Fill in the blanks with words that contain double o’s, such as “food.”  You may use words  from the word list.  (Hint:  each set of lines rhyme.)  You weave with a ____  And sweep with a  _____   A bride at a wedding marries a  _____  A cow says “____” A dove says “___” We see animals when we go to the  ___  	Right after ______ 	We’ll swim in the ____ 	We’ll have fun and we’ll be ____                                                                                                                    Word List:  broom, coo, cool, groom,  loom, moo, pool,  school, zoo Answers:   loom, broom, groom; moo, coo, zoo; school, pool, cool The end"/>
  <analyzerdata id="121" name="word mix-up rearrange the" trainedclass="positive" entry="WORD MIX-UP Rearrange the italicized words below so each sentence will make sense.  For example, rat should be changed to art.            1. Picasso is well known for his rat. 2. We saw a 400-pound pea at the zoo. 3. Arms and Heart are two planets in our solar system. 4. April showers bring Yam flowers. 5. I like my aunt with mayonnaise. 6. Would you like melon in your iced tea? 7. We skate on the kale in winter. 8. The sun sets in the stew. 9. Button your taco when it gets cold. 10. The wind was bowling.  ********************************************************* 1. Picasso is well known for his art. 2. We saw a 400-pound ape at the zoo. 3. Mars and Earth are two planets in our solar system. 4. April showers bring May flowers. 5. I like my tuna with mayonnaise. 6. Would you like lemon in your iced tea? 7. We skate on the lake in winter. 8. The sun sets in the west.  9. Button your coat when it gets cold. 10. The wind was blowing."/>
  <analyzerdata id="122" name="disappearing earrings  by" trainedclass="positive" entry="Disappearing Earrings  By Deborah Holt Williams      “Grandma, tell me about this koala again,” said Bay, as she held the amber earring up to the light.      “Your mama sent me those earrings from Australia, when she was in college there,” said Grandma.  “The other koala disappeared when I was paragliding, so I know he’s somewhere near Aspen, Colorado.  Do you suppose he’s hiking through the woods, looking for a eucalyptus tree?”        Bay giggled.  Her Grandma kept all her single earrings in a small, wooden box from Korea. Each earring had a story, and Bay loved to hold them while her grandmother told their tales.      “See that silver feather there from the Taos pueblo?  The other one disappeared when I was swimming with dolphins.  So it’s not really lost,” Grandma explained, “because I know it’s somewhere on the bottom of the sea, near the Mexican island of Cozumel.”      “Maybe it’s part of a coral reef now,” said Bay.        “Or maybe a handsome sea turtle is wearing it, like a pirate!” said Grandma.      Bay laughed.  “Turtles don’t have earlobes, Grandma!”      “Hmm,” thought Grandma.  “Then maybe he used some sea kelp and made himself a necklace.”  Bay could picture that turtle in her mind, and she smiled.       The box held a copper cowboy boot from a dude ranch in Montana, and a wooden elephant from Africa, and a dangly earring with tiny brass bells from India.  Sometimes, Bay was sure that the turquoise bear was her favorite, but other times she thought it had to be the golden cat with the emerald eyes.       One day, her Grandmother said, “Why don’t you take that box of earrings home with you, Bay?  You love them as much as I do.”       “But Grandma, you always said these earrings were like tiny scrapbooks, full of memories,” said Bay.       “That’s true,” said Grandma, “but I’m turning 60 and I’m cleaning house. I don’t need to keep earrings I don’t wear.”         A few months later, Bay wrapped a present for her Grandma’s special day.       “Happy Birthday, Grandma!” said Bay.  “I took a class at the bead shop, and I made you something.”  Grandma gently removed the ribbon and the paper.         “That’s my box from Korea,” said Grandma, “but…” she opened it and peeked inside.  “A necklace!” she said.  “Bay, you had all my earrings made into a necklace!  I love it!”         Bay helped her grandmother with the clasp.  “Now you can wear them all again.”         Grandma admired herself in the mirror and then gave her granddaughter a hug.        “Thank you, Bay,” said Grandma, “but I want you to keep the box.  Someday you’ll have grand adventures, and some of your earrings may disappear, too.   Keep the others in this little box.”        “Tiny scrapbooks,” said Bay, “just like yours.”"/>
  <analyzerdata id="123" name="the goose who gobbled  “t" trainedclass="positive" entry="The Goose Who Gobbled  “Tweet, tweet,” said Robin. “Coo, coo,” said Pigeon.   “Gobble, gobble,” said Goose. “No, Goose.  Turkeys gobble.  Geese honk,” said Robin. “Yeah, Goose.  You sound like a turkey,” said Pigeon. “But I like to gobble,” said Goose.   “Never mind,” said Robin.  “Let’s eat.” They flew to the meadow.   Robin found a worm.  “Tweet, tweet.”  Pigeon found some berries.  “Coo, coo.”  Goose found tall grasses.  “Gobble, gobble.” “No, Goose.  Turkeys gobble.  Geese honk,” said Robin. “What’s the deal, Goose?” said Pigeon.  “Can’t you honk?” Goose tried to honk. “Gobble.” He tried again. “Gobble!” And again. “GOBBLE!” “It’s no use,” said Goose.   Robin shrugged his wings.  “Time for our nap.” They flew to the lake. Robin found a nest.  “Tweet, tweet.” Pigeon found a rocky ledge.  “Coo, coo.” Goose couldn’t sleep.  He waddled off to find a honk.  Splish, splash.  Goose saw birds swimming in the lake.  “Quack!  Quack!” “No honk here,” said Goose.  Flip, flap.  Goose saw birds flying in the sky. “Caw!  Caw!” “No honk here,” said Goose.  Pitter, patter.  Goose saw birds walking down the road. It was Robin and Pigeon. “Tweet, tweet,” said Robin. “Coo, coo,” said Pigeon.   HONK!  HONK!   A truck zoomed by.  Robin and Pigeon hurried off the road. “Ah, now I see,” said Goose.  “Honk is a loud sound…”  	  “HONK, HONK!  HONK, HONK!  HONK, HONK!”  Robin and Pigeon covered their ears. “Uh, Goose.  Trucks honk.  You gobble,” said Robin. “Yeah, Goose,” said Pigeon.  “You sound like a truck.” “No honk here,” agreed Goose.  “Gobble, gobble.” (Back of truck is filled with very confused turkeys.)"/>
  <analyzerdata id="124" name="it was spring.  robins we" trainedclass="positive" entry="It was spring.  Robins were singing.  Daffodils were blooming.  And Henry was sniffing the air.      “Someone is baking a cake,” said Henry.  “And that someone must be—”      He heard a knock at the door.      “Hazel!”      “Hello, Henry.  Today is my birthday.  Do come over at 3:00 for carrot cake,” she said.  Hazel smoothed her long brown, bunny ears. Harris: Hazel’s Birthday                                                                                                                2        Henry tugged his goat beard.  “Cake?  I would love to.”  Then he swished his short tail.  “Oh, today is your birthday?”      “Yes,” said Hazel and she smiled.  “Now, I’m off to go shopping.”      “Ah, yes, and I need to go too!”  Henry shut the door.       “I didn’t know it was Hazel’s birthday,” said Henry.  “I must go buy her a present.”  He knew just what to get her.      Henry walked to the Village Book Store.  He went straight to the shelves and picked up: 101 Ways to Cook Carrots.  “Hazel has wanted this for a very long time.”      At the register he met Hazel.        “Hello, Henry.  I see you are treating yourself to the same book.”  Hazel wiggled her whiskers.      “No, I was just looking,” said Henry.  He set the book down.  “Well, nice to see you.”  He swished his short tail and stamped out the door.      “Now what?”  Henry stood in the street and looked.  He saw Bonner’s Chocolate Shop and nodded.  There he bought Bonner’s Big Box of Best Chocolates.  “This is her favorite candy.”  He tucked it in his basket and bumped into Hazel.      “Hello, Henry, I was just going to buy the same thing!”      “Are you?”  Henry frowned.      “I am!  Did you know they are my favorite?”        “Ah, yes, I had a feeling,” said Henry.  He opened his box and gobbled five chocolates.  Then he had one last idea.  “Hazel, are you going to the Hardware Store next?” Harris: Hazel’s Birthday                                                                                                                  3        “Yes,” she said.                                                                                                                 Henry tugged his beard and nodded.  “Because you need a new watering can.  Your other can is rusted through.”      “Exactly!” said Hazel.  “Henry, you know me so well.”      Henry sighed.  “I have to go.  Good-bye.”      “Good-bye,” said Hazel.      When Henry got home, he shook his head sadly.  “I have no more ideas.  Hazel tells me working in the garden always helps her think.  I’ll get my garden ready for planting.  I hope it helps me think.”      He dug his shovel in and turned the soil.  Henry worked his way across the garden.       “Well, I can’t think of another gift!” he grumbled.  “What am I going to give Hazel?”      He pushed his shovel in one last time and heard a clinking sound.      “What’s this?”  Henry saw something sparkle and pulled it from the ground.  “Oh, it’s just an old bottle.”      The village clock chimed 3:00.  It was time to go to Hazel’s.  “Well, I do know she likes flowers.”  He picked a perfect daffodil.  He looked at the bottle and added some water.  “I will bring it to her in this.”      “Happy Birthday!”      Hazel wiggled her nose.  “Henry, how did you know?”      “That it’s your birthday?”  Henry scratched his head.      “That I wanted a purple bottle!  Come in and I will show you.” Harris: Hazel’s Birthday                                                                                                                  4        Hazel led him to the kitchen.  On her window sills were old bottles.  Old blue bottles.  Old green bottles.  Old yellow bottles but no old purple bottles.                                                                                                                        Henry tugged his beard and swished his short tail.  “Ah, well, I guess I know you better than I realized.”      “You are a clever goat,” said Hazel.  “Thank you.”      Then they ate cake, which Henry declared delicious.  Hazel ate one slice and Henry ate the rest. "/>
  <analyzerdata id="125" name="the three-point contest  " trainedclass="positive" entry="The Three-Point Contest  How many shots can Devin make in a minute?   By Rich Wallace   “So how does this contest work?” Devin asked.  “Fifteen shots,” Jordan replied.  “It’s timed,” said Tara. “You get one minute.”  The three-point contest was scheduled for the following Saturday. Devin was an excellent shooter. “Let’s give it a try,” he said.  Jordan pointed out the spots where each contestant would shoot: the two corners, the top of the key, and two spots in between. “You move around the arc as quickly as you can,” he said. “Three shots from each position.”  Jordan bounced a ball to Devin as he walked toward the corner. “I placed fourth last year,” Jordan said. “Made six shots, but I didn’t hit anything from the corners.”  Devin frowned. The corner was a tough shot. No help from the backboard.  Tara counted down--“Three, two, one”—and Devin fired up a shot. It clanked off the rim. He launched a second ball before that one hit the floor, then tossed up a third. Neither of them came close.  Jordan chased the rebounds and bounced the balls to Tara.  Devin rushed to the second spot. He hurried to take three shots. Every ball hit the rim, but he was 0-for-6 as he ran to the top of the key.  “Finally!” he said as his next shot swished through the net. Then he bonked two off the back of the rim. Devin shook his head as he shifted to the fourth spot.  “Wow,” he said as he finished in the corner. “Two of fifteen. That’s terrible.”  “You rushed every shot,” Tara said.  “That’s the idea, isn’t it?” Devin asked. “Go as fast as you can?”  Tara laughed. “How long do you think that took?”  “Close to a minute, no?”  Tara shook her head. “About thirty-two seconds.”  “A minute’s a long time,” Jordan said. “You were shooting those balls so fast I thought they were burning your hands.”  “You need to make the same smooth motion every time,” Tara said.  “The guy who won last year didn’t even finish his round,” Jordan said. “He took his time and made eight of thirteen.”  “But you can easily get off fifteen shots,” Tara said. “That’s four seconds per attempt. You only used half that.”  Devin blushed. “I get it.” He knew the basics: square your feet and shoulders toward the basket, jump straight up, and release the shot at the height of the jump. But he’d been in too much of a hurry to follow those steps correctly.  “Let me try again,” Devin said. “Then I’ll rebound for you two. You’re entering, right?”  “Not just entering,” Jordan said. “I plan on winning.”  Devin practiced all week. He walked to the YMCA early every morning and took a hundred shots. He concentrated on using the same motion every time. Then he ran to school.  The gym was full on Saturday. Jordan made seven shots, and last year’s winner matched him.  Devin took a deep breath as his turn arrived. He ran his thumbs over the grain of the basketball and waited for the signal to begin. There were racks of balls at each of the five stations, so he wouldn’t have to wait for any to be retrieved.  Devin stared at the basket, which seemed far away from this corner. Take your time, he reminded himself. But as the whistle blew to start the minute, he felt cold sweat on his neck. His first shot fell short. His second flew past the rim. His third took a high bounce and fell to the floor.  “Settle down!” Tara called. “You’ve got plenty of time.”  Devin eyed the basket. Same motion every time, he thought. He brought the ball to chest level and lifted it higher as he jumped. The ball lofted cleanly over the rim and dropped in. His next shot took an identical path.  “Bingo!” Jordan called as the second shot scored. “You’ve got it.”  Devin hit two from the top of the key and two in a row at the fourth station. If he could finally make one from a corner he’d be tied for the lead.   His first corner shot slipped out, but the second was true. If this last shot was good . . .  The ball hit the back of the rim and fell away.  Devin smacked hands with Jordan and Tara.  “You got hot there,” Jordan said.  “Awful start,” Devin replied. “I rushed those shots from the first corner again. Wish I could do it over.”  “You can,” Jordan said. “Three of us are tied for first. We have to do another round.”  “Big pressure,” Devin said.  Tara gave him a light punch on the arm. “Relax,” she said. “Same motion every time.”  Jordan made just six shots, but the defending champ nailed eight. Devin wiped his palms on his shorts and stepped up.  Tara didn’t have to remind him again. Plenty of time.  Just hit one from the corner, Devin thought as he watched his first shot. It rattled around the rim, then fell in. Devin felt a wave of confidence as he took his second shot, and he didn’t hesitate as he tossed up his third. Both shots just missed.  His shooting motion was right, but only one shot fell in from the second spot and one from the top of the key.  Concentrate, Devin thought. He was way behind. Six more shots and it would be over.  He hit the next one. There it is, he thought. The next was good, too. That basket didn’t look so far away now. He was locked in.  Three straight! If he could match that from the corner, he’d win.  Be quick, he knew. Be consistent.  In an easy, confident motion, Devin sent the ball on a soft arc toward the basket.  Swish.  His next shot was already in the air. It found the sweet spot, too.  Devin was on fire.  The last ball almost seemed to hang in mid-air, floating over the rim and swishing through the net.  Six in a row. Nine of fifteen. Devin’s friends rushed to meet him, slapping his back and whooping.  “How did you do it?” Jordan asked.  “You have to hurry,” Devin replied with a grin. “And you have to take your time.”"/>
  <analyzerdata id="126" name="football smarts  bryan’s " trainedclass="positive" entry="Football Smarts  Bryan’s being out-muscled and under-used   By Rich Wallace  Bryan rushed along the main street. If he was late, the others would choose sides without him. No one would wait for a third-grader.  “It’s older kids,” Bryan’s sister, Tara, had told him. “We’re lucky they’re letting us play.”  Tara and their friends Devin and Jordan were in fourth grade, and most of the kids gathering for the touch football game were in fifth. Bryan could see the field a block ahead. The air was crisp, and the maple trees were beginning to turn red and orange and yellow. Football season!  Bryan ran faster.  “Where’s Rico?” asked Mark, a tall boy who was standing in the center of the circle of players.  “Dentist,” someone said.  Mark pointed at Bryan. “Who’s this?”  “Tara’s little brother.”  “Younger brother,” Bryan said. “I’m as big as she is.”  “Okay, younger brother,” Mark said. “You’re on our side. But if Rico shows up, you’re out.”  It was a full-sized field behind the middle school, with goal posts and everything. Tara, Jordan, and Devin were on the other team. Tara stuck her tongue out at Bryan, then smiled.   Mark called a play.  “What should I do?” Bryan asked.  “Stay in and block,” Mark replied.     A kid who was a head taller than Bryan shoved past him. He zeroed in on Mark and made him hurry his pass. The ball fell short of the receiver.  “Come on, Younger,” Mark said. “If you’re going to play, then play. Don’t get pushed around.”  Bryan got pushed plenty. The pass rushers were all bigger than he was. He could block one for a second or two, but they always out-muscled him.  “I’d do better as a receiver,” Bryan said.  Mark shook his head. “Stay in and block.”  On defense, Bryan’s quickness allowed him to stay with the taller players, but several times he was outreached for a pass. Fortunately he didn’t give up any long gains.  The teams went up and down the field several times. Neither side was able to score.  Bryan’s team finally got a break. Mark’s pass was tipped and a teammate grabbed it with a clear field ahead. Jordan ran the receiver down, but it was first and goal at the six-yard line.  Three passes fell incomplete. Bryan picked himself up off the grass, where he’d been knocked flat. He hurried to the huddle.  “Fourth down,” Mark said. “Somebody get open!” He turned to Bryan.  “I know,” Bryan said, “stay in and block.”  Bryan noticed a new wrinkle in the other team’s defense. Devin was lined up behind the kid Bryan was supposed to block.  “Watch out for the blitz!” Bryan called.  The ball was snapped just as he said it. Bryan shoved his forearms into the lineman, but Devin scooted past. Mark never saw him coming. Devin tagged him with both hands to end the play.  Mark shook his head. “Good call,” he muttered to Bryan. “We didn’t react in time.”  The other team began a long march down the field. They completed short pass after short pass, gaining four or five yards per play. Nothing fancy, nothing risky.  “We need some stops,” Mark said. “Get in their faces.”  But the strategy kept working. Receivers would take a few quick steps, then turn toward the sideline and catch the ball. It was nearly impossible to stop the attack.  Then Bryan noticed something different. Jordan was lined up in his usual spot, but he was leaning slightly toward the backfield.  Trick play coming, Bryan thought.  The quarterback grabbed the ball and the receivers ran their short, tight routes. But Jordan sprinted behind the quarterback, who flipped him the ball.  “Sweep!” Bryan yelled. He took after Jordan.  Bryan’s teammates headed that way, too. Jordan sprinted free for 25 yards, but Mark finally caught him. It would have been a touchdown for sure if Bryan hadn’t yelled.  “You’ve got some real smarts for football,” Mark said.  “I can do more,” Bryan replied.  The drive finally stalled, and Bryan’s team took possession.   “How much time?” Mark asked. They had decided to play for an hour.  “Eight minutes,” somebody said.  “That’ll go fast,” Mark said. “We need to score.”  Mark wiped his mouth with his palm. “We’ll throw that strategy right back at ’em,” he said. “Short, safe passes.”  Bryan wanted to do more. “Football smarts,” he said, tapping his forehead.  Mark smirked. “Stay in and block.”  The strategy didn’t work as well. Mark’s passing wasn’t as accurate as the other team’s quarterback. He completed one pass out of three, and they faced a long fourth down.  “It’s too late to punt,” Mark said. “We’d never get the ball back. Get open, guys!”  But no one did. Mark ran to the left to avoid a lineman, then circled back again. Finally he stopped in his tracks and heaved a long pass toward the sideline.  The ball was intercepted. Bryan had been shoved into the backfield, but he saw the whole thing unfold. A defensive player snatched the ball and raced along the sideline.   Mark and another teammate seemed sure to catch up, but the return would be a long one. Bryan sprinted in that direction, too.  Jordan was trailing the play, and Bryan could see what might happen. If he timed it just right . . .  “Pitch it!” Jordan called just as Mark reached the ball-carrier. Jordan was in perfect position—a couple of strides behind and running full speed. A well-timed lateral would set him free.  But Bryan saw it coming. He darted between Jordan and the ball-carrier and picked off the toss in mid-air. With everyone else headed the other way, Bryan was three steps toward the end zone before anyone else could pivot.  Bryan hugged the ball and ran harder than ever. He crossed midfield and kept going. No one came close to catching him.  “Game over,” somebody said. Mark slapped Bryan’s shoulder. Tara stuck out her tongue again.  “Let’s do it again tomorrow, Younger,” Mark said.  “What if Rico shows up?” Bryan asked.  “We’ll find a spot for him,” Mark said with a laugh. “He can stay in and block.”"/>
  <analyzerdata id="127" name="a highlights insight seri" trainedclass="positive" entry="A Highlights Insight Series:  Common Core … and more  Three Activities to Help Your Students Meet the New Standards  by the Editors of Highlights for Children   The Common Core are coming! The Common Core are coming!  OK, it’s not exactly the landing of British in 1775. Nonetheless, the arrival of the Common Core State Standards (CCSS) is shaking people up across the U.S. Forty-five states, four territories, and the District of Columbia have already adopted these new standards.   The authors of the new math and English language arts (ELA) standards stress that the CCSS don’t prescribe content; they aim, rather, to develop and deepen the skills applied to that content.    You, like most American teachers, are probably working hard to determine how to help your students meet the CCSS. Fortunately, there’s an easy-to-use tool already at your fingertips: Magazines!  Magazines of every type—online and offline—are well suited for the new Common-Core-oriented classroom. Their short texts at multiple levels, varied formats and styles, and kid-friendly content make magazines excellent teaching tools. In this and upcoming articles, you’ll find ideas to help your students become better readers, writers, and mathematicians–simply by using quality print and digital periodicals.  ELA: Fabulous Features Let’s start with the ELA standards. Although there are specific standards for every grade level, the CCSS offers ‘anchor standards’ with goals across the grades.  Here’s anchor standard one for ELA: “Read closely to determine what the text says explicitly and to make logical inferences from it; cite specific textual evidence when writing or speaking to support conclusions drawn from the text.”  The language is sophisticated but the ideas are powerful and simple: Students need to read with care, be able to summarize texts and draw conclusions and inferences from them. In addition, students need to point to words in the text that back up their claims.  Here are three activities—each tied to an anchor standard—that develop these skills with the help of appealing magazine features.   1.  Analyze This: Determine central ideas or themes of a text and analyze their development; summarize the key supporting details and ideas (CCRA.R.2). Magazines offer a range of articles and stories—short and medium length, more and less challenging. Here, for example, is a wide selection of stories and poems available for free on the Highlights website. Invite students to read the brief summaries, then choose one story that intrigues them. Afterwards, ask students to summarize and point to information in the story that supports their summary.  2. Multimedia Comparison: Evaluate content presented in diverse media and formats, including visually and quantitatively, as well as in words (CCRA.R.7). In a multimedia world, readers absorb information in many forms. Ask your students to compare and contrast what they learn in different media. Here’s an example: This profile, “Adventures with Animals,” describes wildlife writer Sy Montgomery and her experiences with creatures around the world.  After students read the article, have them view similar content in this video, “A Deep Love for Animals.” Then invite a class discussion: What did you learn from the article? What new information did you discover in the video?    3. Review the point of view: Assess how point of view or purpose shapes the content and style of a text (CCRA.R.6). Choose short text written in first- or third-person and invite your pupils to explore how the author’s point of view affects what they learn. Here’s a playful example of a first-person perspective that will give students lots to talk about!   FEEDBACK? Let us know what you think of the CCSS and these CCSS articles. Are there topics you’d like us to cover? Write to TKTK@highlights.com    FURTHER RESOURCES  More on Common Core: http://commoncore.americaachieves.org/ is a site full of videos, lesson plans, and other useful tools related to implementing the CCSS in your classroom  Playful Informational Text: The CCSS stresses reading text for information. For a lively way to exercise students’ understanding of informational text, select some of the crafts and how-to content right here."/>
  <analyzerdata id="128" name="a highlights insight seri" trainedclass="positive" entry="A Highlights Insight Series:  Common Core… and More What’s It All About? Improve Your Students’ Comprehension with Story Activities By the Editors of Highlights for Children  You’ve finished a lesson and the students have read well. They seemed engaged. But when you ask about the key points, what do you get back? All too often, perhaps, a sea of blank stares.  What happened? Well, fluent reading doesn’t always correlate to comprehension. Understanding text depends on complex factors including a reader’s background knowledge, interests, and vocabulary.   The Common Core State Standards (CCSS) put great emphasis on comprehension, of course. As you develop strategies for teaching CCSS skills, you build students’ background knowledge and vocabulary.   Giving students engaging reading choices has been shown to lead to better comprehension. Highlights and other magazines can help you develop these CCSS skills. During independent reading time, present students with writing activities that help them think about what they’ve read. Research shows when students engage in activities such as those listed below, they understand text better.   Reading Articles Builds Skills Students will enjoy reading these online magazine pieces and completing activities aligned with Common Core Anchor Standards.   Thick and Thin: How do frogs stay wet during the dry season? You’ll find the answer in this scientist’s kid-friendly article about frogs in Argentina. (Your students will also learn some Spanish phrases.) 	Use the story as part of a lesson about two types of questions: Thin questions relate to facts and can be found directly in the text of a story (What do painted-belly monkey frogs have all over their skin? Special glands that help them keep in water). Thick questions require inferences; they depend on more than just what’s written in the story. (Why did the scientist in the story find that nearly all frogs were hiding? Because they needed to be in damp places, and the only wetness they could find during Argentina’s dry season was in places away from the hot sun.) 	Invite students to read the frog story. Afterwards, challenge them to write one thick and one thin question.  CCSS: Read closely to determine what the text says explicitly and to make logical inferences from it; cite specific textual evidence when writing or speaking to support conclusions drawn from the text. (CCRA.R.1)  Sum It Up:  Summarizing not only shows if students understand what they have read; it also pushes them to identify what’s most important. In a lesson, model how to get at the ‘gist’ – key points — of a text. Use this template to help. Your text can be this playful poem rooted in nonfiction, “If I Were an Otter.” Read the first stanza with students, guiding them to identify the W’s and H. Then work with them to construct a summary — no longer than 20 words — of that stanza. (The writer imagines being an otter, living in the ocean, and diving to get clams and sea urchins to eat.) Encourage students to work on a summary of the next stanza. (The writer imagines being an otter floating on its back and using a stone to break open clams.) CCSS: Determine central ideas or themes of a text and analyze their development; summarize the key supporting details and ideas. (CCRA.R.2) Structure Under the Story: This lively news report talks about those irresistible little seabirds, the Puffins, and their struggle to find food. It’s perfect for analyzing text structure. Review basic text structures such as problem and solution, compare and contrast, sequencing. Then model how to complete graphic organizers, and invite students to fill out a graphic organizer about this article.  CCSS: Analyze the structure of texts, including how specific sentences, paragraphs, and larger portions of the text (e.g., a section, chapter, scene, or stanza) relate to each other and the whole. (CCRA.R.5)  FEEDBACK? Let us know what you think of the CCSS and these CCSS articles. Are there topics you’d like us to cover? Write to TKTK@highlights.com   FURTHER RESOURCES    Learn more about factors that influence comprehension and more ways to improve comprehension skills.  Learn more about motivation and reading.  Learn about ways to teach and foster reading comprehension. "/>
  <analyzerdata id="129" name="two young frogs: an old j" trainedclass="positive" entry="TWO YOUNG FROGS: AN OLD JAPANESE TALE Retold by Gale Sypher Jacob.  	Long, long ago in Japan, there lived two young frogs. One frog lived in the west, in the city of Osaka.  The other frog lived in the east, in the city of Kyoto. Both frogs were curious about the world beyond their home. 	One spring day, Osaka Frog said, “It’s a beautiful morning! Today I will travel. I’ll hop east to Kyoto and see new sights.”  So Osaka Frog packed rice cakes and hopped east on the road that runs from Osaka to Kyoto. 	Many miles away in the east, Kyoto Frog had the same thought on the same day. So Kyoto Frog packed red bean cakes and hopped west on the same road to see new sights in Osaka. 	Hours later, the frogs reached a mountain. To them, it looked as high as Mount Fuji!  Osaka Frog hopped up the west side to the top, and sat down to rest.  Soon Kyoto Frog appeared from the east side of the mountain. 	“It’s a great traveling day,” said Osaka Frog. “Where are you going?” 	“I’m traveling west to Osaka,” said Kyoto Frog.  	“That’s my beautiful home city!” exclaimed Osaka Frog. “I’m on my way east to Kyoto.” 	“That’s my beautiful home city!” exclaimed Kyoto Frog. “It’s far behind me now and Osaka seems very far away. My legs are tired from all that hopping, and I’m hungry.” He ate a red bean cake. 	“Me too,” said Osaka Frog, eating a rice cake. 	Kyoto Frog said, “I wish I could see the sights in Osaka from the top of this mountain.” 	“I have an idea,” said Osaka Frog. “If we stand back-to-back on our hind legs and stretch, then I could see Kyoto and you could see Osaka.” 	“Excellent,” said Kyoto Frog. “And if we lock our arms, it will help us balance. We’ll stretch as high as a bamboo tree!” 	“Let’s go!” said Osaka Frog.  The two frogs jumped up and stood back-to-back on their hind legs, with their arms locked. They stretched higher and higher, until they saw the two cities in the distance. But alas, they jumped up without thinking which way to look. Osaka Frog looked   west, where he had started. Kyoto Frog looked east, where he had started. 	“My goodness,” said Osaka Frog. “Is that Kyoto? There’s nothing new there, it looks just like Osaka!” 	“And Osaka looks just like Kyoto,” said Kyoto Frog. “I don’t want to hop all the way to Osaka. There’s nothing new to see there.” 	“We might as well go home,” said Osaka Frog. 	Kyoto Frog agreed. 	The two frogs shared their remaining red bean and rice cakes. Then they said goodbye and headed down the opposite sides of the mountain. Osaka Frog hopped west, home to Osaka.  Kyoto Frog hopped east, home to Kyoto. 	Sad to say, Osaka Frog and Kyoto Frog lost their curiosity that day. They never traveled again because they thought other places looked just like home. What foolish frogs! 	"/>
  <analyzerdata id="130" name="the adventures of spot—da" trainedclass="positive" entry="The Adventures of Spot—Dandelion By Marileta Robinson  Spot sees something new. Spot is in the yard, spots a dandelion puff-ball growing by itself, looks curious.  What could it be? Spot looks more closely.  It’s fuzzy. Even bigger close-up of the dandelion, with a little of Spot’s nose coming closer.  It tickles. Spot scrunches up his nose, about to sneeze.  AAH-CHOO! Spot sneezes, eyes closed, the dandelion seeds blow away.  It’s gone! Spot looks in surprise at the little nub that’s left—maybe we still see some seeds floating around above his head."/>
  <analyzerdata id="131" trainedclass="positive" entry="The Adventures of Spot—Undecided Spot By Marileta Robinson  Spot sees his ball and his bone. Spot is in the yard. He sees his red ball and a good chewing bone lying in the grass.  Should he play with his ball? He sniffs the ball, tail wagging.  Should he chew his bone? He sniffs the bone, tail wagging.  Spot can’t decide. Spot sits down, looking very puzzled.  Too late! Splinter comes out of nowhere, and bats the ball away.  Splinter has the ball. Spot watches Splinter who’s in the distance playing with the ball. He’s a bit droopy.  Spot has the bone. Spot is OK with chewing the bone."><![CDATA[]]></analyzerdata>
  <analyzerdata id="132" trainedclass="positive" entry="What is the Value in Children Doing Puzzles?  By Allison G. Caplovitz, Ph.D. When my son was in preschool I remember his pure delight when his puzzle magazine would arrive in the mail.   We would sit together and both have fun searching for pictures (in a Hidden Pictures puzzle), finding two matching objects (in a matching game), or following a maze from start to finish.  But beyond the fun and games there was something more happening; he was learning important skills that would prepare him for his childhood and young adult years.   Over the past 15 years I have studied the effects of media on children, and I continue to work to help create good content for children, both on and off screen.  But as a mother of three young children (ranging in age from 4 to 12), I understand at a deeper level that digital screen media are growing in prominence in the lives of children – at all ages.  And with the plethora of screen media options occupying more and more available down time for kids, I have begun to appreciate even more those activities that are not tied to a screen.  The Highlights puzzles are one such activity.   So what is it about puzzling that is educational, and what skills can be learned from such activities?  Well, puzzling can build skills at every developmental stage.  As children attempt to solve a puzzle, they learn to feel a sense of mastery.  It also teaches them to persist in order to accomplish a goal.  Each type of puzzle brings with it some specific skills that can be learned.  Here are just a few:  Distinguish Differences in Visual Images.  Hidden Pictures develops the ability to distinguish differences in visual images.  This skill helps children pay attention to details and understand subtle differences between similar-looking objects.  This is especially important as children learn to read and distinguish letters such as b, d, p, and q.  Children also learn how objects correspond in shape, size, color or design.  As they work on these pictures, children begin to understand and identify the properties of objects, and they learn that objects that change in form and/or appearance are still the same object.  Develop Coordination and Visual Discrimination.  Completing mazes takes coordination of small muscle movement and hand-eye coordination.  Children also learn visual discrimination through determining how to reach an end-goal by using their sight to follow a path to reach the finish.  These skills can help children both with handwriting skills as well as visual tracking skills needed to learn to read.  In addition, it can help with more obvious hand-eye coordination skills such as catching a ball or hitting a ball with a bat.  Developing Matching Ability.  Matching Games allow children to practice important skills such as matching shapes and patterns (a pre-math skill), and then letters and words (a pre-reading skill).   This, in turn, will give them one-to-one correspondence skills where they will be able to match one set with a member of another set (for example one sock with one shoe), which is important for learning properties of objects and how things can go together in different categories.  Traditional paper-and-pencil puzzles can be complimented by screen media, which seems to occupy the interests of children today.  So think about having your child extend their puzzling to the companion website.  Puzzles can be enhanced by playing in multiple formats.   My son, who puzzled as a preschooler, has now incorporated puzzling in his screen life.  He not only excels in Minecraft and other like-strategy video games, but in areas of math, science, and even writing computer code.  And, when possible, sit down with your child and puzzle together.  Not only will it be a bonding experience, but your puzzling skills can model effective solving strategies for your child. A wise professor of mine said repeatedly, “The medium is not the message, the message is the message.”  Viable alternatives to screen media, in conjunction with learning with screen media, in the form of puzzles can be interesting, fun, and enjoyable for the whole family! "><![CDATA[]]></analyzerdata>
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    <entry><![CDATA[A Whirlpool in Space   by Ken Croswell   In April 1845, Lord Rosse in Ireland looked through a big telescope he had built and discovered the first spiral in space.  Today we call it the Whirlpool Galaxy.  It has hundreds of billions of stars.  The galaxy spins fast in the counterclockwise direction; the fast spin creates the spiral.   [Point to two or three clumps of blue stars in the spiral arms]:  The spiral arms squeeze gas and dust, turning them into new stars.  The brightest of these newborn stars are blue.   [Point to two or three pink regions in the spiral arms]:  The hottest blue stars emit ultraviolet radiation that tears electrons from hydrogen atoms in the galaxy's gas.  When the electrons rejoin the hydrogen atoms, they give off red light, producing pink regions along the spiral arms.   [Point to the satellite galaxy]:  This smaller galaxy goes around the Whirlpool the way the Moon goes around the Earth.  The satellite galaxy's gravity probably stirs up the Whirlpool Galaxy, making its spiral so beautiful.   [Optional; anywhere]:  Light from the Whirlpool Galaxy takes 25,000,000 years to reach Earth, so we say the galaxy is 25,000,000 light-years from us.   Best issue to run:  April.   Image (in the public domain):  http://www.hubblesite.org/gallery/album/entire_collection/pr2005012a/  .  I prefer it with the satellite galaxy at bottom, but you can orient it however you like it.   Ken Croswell (510) 704-9902 http://KenCroswell.com  ]]></entry><![CDATA[]]>
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    <entry><![CDATA[Journey to Alpha Centauri  This neighbor sun has a planet as big as Earth.  by Ken Croswell  	Thousands of stars speckle the night.  But one is unique:  Alpha Centauri, the closest star system to the Sun and Earth.  Now observers have discovered a planet there that brave explorers may someday travel to. 	Alpha Centauri is bright.  But you probably can't see it, because it's so far south.  Still, if you live in southern Florida, southern Texas, or Hawaii, you might see Alpha Centauri shining brightly. 	For centuries, this brilliant star has attracted people who were far enough south to see it.  In 1689, a priest in India used a telescope to look at Alpha Centauri.  It was double!  He saw two stars instead of one.  The brighter star, named Alpha Centauri A, is yellow, like the Sun.  The fainter star, Alpha Centauri B, is orange.  Observers watched the two stars and found they go around each other every 80 years. 	In 1838, an astronomer in South Africa measured Alpha Centauri's distance.  Alpha Centauri A and B are just 4.37 light-years from Earth.  This means their light takes 4.37 years to travel to us. 	In 1915, another astronomer in South Africa discovered a dim red star.  It goes around the two bright stars and is slightly closer:  4.24 light-years from Earth.  Instead of calling it Alpha Centauri C, we usually call it Proxima Centauri.  "Proximity" means closeness. 	So Alpha Centauri is really three stars.  On average the yellow and orange stars are a bit farther apart than the Sun and Uranus. 	To picture Alpha Centauri, imagine making a map.  You put the yellow and orange stars one foot apart.  But the red star would be a tenth of a mile away.  And the Sun and Earth would be more than 2 miles from all three. 	Most stars are little red stars like Proxima Centauri.  But the Sun is a bright yellow star.  Such stars may be the best places to find a planet with life, because Earth goes around one. 	The good news:  Alpha Centauri A is a bright yellow star like the Sun.  And Alpha Centauri B is a fairly bright orange star.  If the stars have planets, those worlds might have life.  Astronomers have calculated that either star could have planets with paths like those of Mercury, Venus, Earth, and Mars and the pull of the other star's gravity wouldn't tear the planets away. 	But do planets actually exist?  They form in a disk of gas and dust around a star.  Maybe the gravity of Alpha Centauri A destroyed the planet-making disk around Alpha Centauri B, and vice versa, so that neither star has any planets at all. 	Then, in 2012, astronomers reported that they had used a telescope in Chile to discover a planet around Alpha Centauri B, the orange star.  They detected the planet from the pull of its gravity, which tugged the star.  The planet is as big as Earth. 	But chances are, no one lives there.  The planet is hostile.  It's much closer to its sun than Mercury is to ours.  Earth takes 365 1/4 days to go around the Sun and Mercury takes 88 days to do the same, but this planet is so close to its star it revolves every 3 days, 5 hours, and 40 minutes. 	Because it is so close to its star, the star's gravity probably forces one side of the planet to forever face the star.  That side must be hundreds of degrees hot.  But the planet's other side forever faces away from the star.  That side must be colder than the North Pole. 	But Alpha Centauri may have other planets that lie farther from one star or the other.  If they exist, these planets should be cooler and more pleasant.  Maybe they have oceans, plants, trees, and animals.  Furthermore, Alpha Centauri is older than Earth, so planets with mild climates have had enough time to develop intelligent life. 	Will we journey to Alpha Centauri to see its planets?  So far, the farthest world NASA has ever sent a spacecraft to is Pluto, which a probe will visit in 2015. 	But though Alpha Centauri is the Sun's nearest stellar neighbor, it is still a long way away:  7,000 times farther than Pluto, or about 25 trillion (25,000,000,000,000) miles from Earth.  So it will be a long time before our spaceships go there.  In the meantime, let's hope astronomers find more worlds orbiting this intriguing neighbor star.   Possible extras:  A star makes its own light.  The Sun is a star.  So are Alpha Centauri A, Alpha Centauri B, and Proxima Centauri.  A planet doesn't make its own light.  Instead, a planet reflects the light of the star it goes around.  The Earth is a planet.  So are Mars, Jupiter, and Saturn.  A moon isn't a star or planet.  Instead, a moon goes around a planet.  The Moon goes around the Earth and reflects the light of the Sun.]]></entry><![CDATA[]]>
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    <entry><![CDATA[BIG CITY FROGS: THE TRUE STORY OF FROGS FOUND HIDING IN THE CITY  By Kathleen Bookbinder   	 When you hear about animal discoveries, do you imagine scientists searching remote rainforests, steamy jungles and sunny islands?  Most new animals are found far from cars, buildings and people, which is why Jeremy Feinberg was so surprised to find a new kind of leopard frog living and hiding in the bustling city of New York. Cluck!...Cluck!...Cluck!  What a strange sound, thought the scientist.  The short, clucking croaks were almost lost in the noise of the city, but Mr. Feinberg knelt and listened again.  That’s when he knew this wasn’t the croak of an ordinary leopard frog. “"When I first heard these frogs calling, it was so different, I knew something was very off," said Mr.Feinberg. Mr. Feinberg called Cathy Newman and Dr. Leslie Rissler.    He told the two scientists about the leopard frogs with a very strange croak.  He wondered if they could help him find out more about this unusual animal.  Mr. Feinberg thought his odd croaking frog might be a “cryptic species”, an animal that looks so much like another animal scientists think they’re the same. The only way to tell the difference between the two animals is to look at the genes inside each one.  Each gene is like a rule hidden inside a plant or animal.  The rule tells how the plant or animal will look, act, or survive on earth.  The genes are tied together in long strings called DNA.  Special scientists like Cathy Newman and Leslie Rissler study DNA to see how the plants or animals are the same and different.  That’s why Mr. Feinberg called them to help identify his mysterious frogs. Ms. Newman and Dr. Rissler looked at the frogs and studied those little rules called genes.  The scientists were excited by what they found.  Mr. Feinberg was right about his frogs.  They looked like other leopard frogs but they sounded different and inside, they were very different.  Mr. Feinberg had found a new species of frog hiding right in New York! Many months have passed and the scientists have a new job.  Mr. Feinberg, Ms. Newman and Dr. Rissler worked together to learn about their frog and now, they must choose its name.  The scientists are stumped!  What do you call a frog that lives and hides in a big city for hundreds of years?  One thing’s for sure, these scientists will need a very unusual name for this very unusual frog!]]></entry><![CDATA[]]>
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  <analyzerdata id="136" trainedclass="positive" entry="My Pants Keep Getting Shorter  My pants keep getting shorter—they’re almost to my knees.  And look! My favorite shirt, what’s happened to the sleeves?  I stretch and stretch my knee socks, they will never reach.  My shoes, I push and pull them on until I almost screech!  And then there is the kitchen—what’s happened to the sink?  I no longer need a stool, or boost to get myself a drink.  I wonder what is going on—could the world be getting smaller?  Or … could it be … just could it be … that I am getting taller?"><![CDATA[]]></analyzerdata>
  <analyzerdata id="137" trainedclass="positive" entry="DAD’S PURPLE SWEATER  by Carol Munro  What was Grandma thinking? She knitted Dad a sweater and mailed it for his birthday. That’s cool, but it was PURPLE. Not just any purple. Glow-in-the-dark purple! Dad loved it. I hated it.  He wore the sweater a lot. When he walked the dog, when he went to the store, when he took mom on a date – and the worst! – when he drove me to school. “Do you always have to wear that sweater?” I asked. “I love this sweater, Jake!” he said. “It’s so…purple!” I said. I would never use that color in any of my art projects. I was glad when summer came, and he stopped wearing it. But once the weather cooled again, that purple sweater came out of hiding. “Aren’t you sick of that thing?” I asked. Page 2 of 3 – Munro “I love this sweater!” he said. “It’s ugly,” I said. One day we visited Uncle Bill’s farm. Dad tore his sleeve on a fence. “Well, you won’t wear that anymore,” I said. “I love this sweater!” he said.  “It’s ripped,” I said. “I’ll just wear it around the house,” he said, and he did. Every night. Weekends, too. The hole got bigger. The sleeve hung by threads.  One night at dinner, the threads hung in his plate of fusilli. He twisted the pasta and threads onto his fork and opened his mouth. “No, Dad!” I shouted. He almost ate his sweater! “Time to give up it up, Dad,” I said. “I love this sweater!” he said. “It’s raggedy,” I said. The next day Mom and I made a Halloween scarecrow. We put it in a chair in our front yard, then went to Uncle Bill’s farm for pumpkins. When we got back, guess what the scarecrow was wearing. That ugly, ripped up, raggedy, glow-in-the-dark purple sweater! I have to admit, it looked good on the scarecrow – and maybe, just maybe, I might try that color in an art project. But the sweater got rained on, and leaves stuck to it. On Halloween night, the big kids egged it.  “It’s a mess,” I said. “I know,” said Dad. “I loved this sweater.” He took it off the scarecrow to throw it away, but just stood there looking sad.  Page 3 of 3 – Munro It made me sad. I thought about the day he got it, the day he tore it, and all those days he wore it. Then I thought about the day he almost ate it, and that gave me an idea for the art show at school. “Wait, Dad! Give it to me.”   “Why?” Dad asked. “You’ll see.”  I washed, dried, and unraveled the sweater into a big pile of curly purple yarn. I put it on a plate with some neon green tennis balls. I tore and crumpled construction paper – pink, yellow, and orange – and put it in a bowl. I shaped a fork out of foil, then put everything on a serving tray with a sign: Fusilli and meatballs with salad – Alien style. Mom and Dad came to the art show, and my teacher gave awards. My dad was surprised to see what I made. I was surprised to win first prize! “It’s the perfect ending for my sweater,” said Dad. We took pictures. I sent one to Grandma with this note: Dear Grandma, Dad’s sweater got all worn out, but he really loved it, so I made it into art. He’s keeping it in his office at work.  Love, Jake. P.S. In case you’re wondering, my favorite color is green. Not just any green. Glow-in-the-dark green!"><![CDATA[]]></analyzerdata>
  <analyzerdata id="138" trainedclass="positive" entry="Prepared to Save Lives: Eric Davis, Firefighter  	Imagine rushing to get out of a house dragging a 175-pound dummy.  Now imagine rushing to get out of a house dragging a 175-pound dummy while you’re blindfolded!  As part of firefighter training, Eric Davis did exactly that.   Davis wanted to be a professional baseball player, but he got hooked on firefighting in the army.  While most of his job involves emergency medical service (EMS), his first love is fighting fires.  “I enjoy the job.  I enjoy working with people.  I enjoy firefighting,” he says.  Today, he works 24 hours on and 48 hours off, in Cuyahoga Falls, Ohio.  He likes the schedule because it lets him spend time with his family.   Back to School	 The fire school Davis attended lasted about three months and included classroom work, exercise, and hands on training, like fighting live fires in buildings filled with straw.  Weekly tests included how fast he put on his gear, how physically fit he was, and how quickly he took apart and reassembled his equipment.  Testing also involved operating ladder trucks, climbing through windows, and rescuing dummies, which represented real people.  Davis says the blindfold training prepared him for real fires.  “If you go into a house that has a pretty good fire…you have zero visibility, so the blindfold works about the same…zero visibility is the same as complete darkness.” All in a Day’s Work 	Being a firefighter involves more than battling fires.  Davis installs smoke detectors, checks fire hydrants, and inspects buildings for safety issues.  Firefighters respond to all calls, even false alarms.  On one call, a woman’s doorknob had fallen off.  “We showed up and put the doorknob back on,” Davis says.   Being Prepared 	Davis believes his most important responsibility is “…making sure I’m prepared for any situation I might come across.”  To keep physically fit, he runs several times a week and works out. He takes classes to keep up his skills, and trains regularly--like fighting practice fires and cutting holes in roofs, which helps vent smoke out and improves visibility.  	Firefighting equipment is more than hoses and ladders.  It also includes equipment like chain saws and axes.  Davis keeps all his equipment in good shape.  Even checking flashlight batteries is important.  All that preparation and exercise help when Davis suits up for a fire.  While his daily uniform is a collared shirt and blue pants, the fire gear he wears, including helmet and air pack, weighs about 70 pounds.  He and his fellow firefighters are expected to be dressed and out the door one minute after the alarm goes off.  Risks and Rewards 	Firefighting involves plenty of risks.  Plus, Davis says, “You have to be willing to help any person you come across, regardless of how they’re treating you.”  His department’s motto is “Risk a little to save a little.  Risk a lot to save a lot.”  If someone might be trapped, Davis puts himself at risk to get the person out.  If not, the fire might only be fought from the outside. 	Davis has never been afraid when he’s fighting a fire.  His adrenalin kicks in and he does what’s needed.  But he knows firefighters who are scared to climb ladders.  He says, “They do it because it’s part of their job.”  If you’re facing fear, Davis says, “Get focused on the task at hand and just get the job done.  Afterwards you might say, ‘Wow! That was kind of scary, but I did it!’ ” That could mean saving a life."><![CDATA[]]></analyzerdata>
  <analyzerdata id="139" trainedclass="positive" entry="Fast Food  He wants his food. No time to wait. What dish does he Wish on his plate?  A sleepy sloth, A kinkajou, Whomever shares His treetop view.  He watches from His Kapok tree, Then snatches lunch Before it flees.  Efficient, fast, Without a foe, The Harpy Eagle Eats “To Go.”  	The Harpy Eagle, named after the half-woman, half-bird Harpies of Greek mythology, is the biggest and most powerful eagle in the world.  Sometimes referred to as the ruler of the rainforest, this raptor measures more than three feet tall, with a wingspan of seven to eight feet.  Its powerful talons can grow to five inches long.  Harpy Eagles make large, stick nests high in the rainforest canopy, where they keep an eye out for their favorite meals, sloths, monkeys, and kinkajous.  Using their excellent hearing and vision, Harpy Eagles pursue their prey by maneuvering through the treetops at 50 miles per hour.  They snatch their victims and carry them to a branch to eat them."><![CDATA[]]></analyzerdata>
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    <entry><![CDATA[Fluffy-Tail Squirrel Recycled Craft By Kristen White  This squirrel knows winter is coming soon. He is gathering food for winter. Can you find the hidden treat he holds?  What You Need 1 empty toilet paper tube Brown acrylic craft paint Paintbrush 2 googly eyes 1 tiny black pom-pom 1 small brown pom-pom Acorn 1 chenille stem Red, orange, or yellow tissue paper (6 pieces cut into 6-inch by 2 1/2-inch rectangles) Craft glue Glue dots Scissors  What You Do 1.	Cover your work area in paper or plastic.  2.	Paint the toilet paper tube with brown paint.  3.	While the tube is drying, make the tail. Place a thin line of glue down the center of each tissue paper piece and stack the pieces neatly on top of each other. After the third piece, put a little extra glue. Fold a chenille stem in half and press it onto the tissue paper, then layer the remaining pieces on top. When this is dry, carefully round the top of the tail with scissors. Snip horizontal lines from the edge toward the center of the tail and separate the pieces to make them look like a fluffy tail. 4.	When the tube is dry, fold about 1/2 inch of the top of the tube toward the center to make ears stick up. [[show sketch or photo]] 5.	Glue the googly eyes in place. 6.	Glue the brown and black pom-poms together, then to the tube for a nose. 7. 	Glue the acorn about an inch under the nose. 8.	Generously glue the tail to the back of the tube. 9.	Make homemade caramel corn & peanuts. When cool, put a small amount in a zip-top snack bag. Tuck the bag into the bottom of the tube.]]></entry><![CDATA[]]>
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    <entry><![CDATA[FURRY DETECTIVES   When you think of a rat, what words come to mind? Probably not the words hero, intelligent, or lifesaver. But in Tanzania, Africa, three-pound furry rat detectives are working hard to change their reputations by detecting landmines and saving lives. The History of Rat Detectives Walking around safely is something taken for granted by people living in the United States. In many countries around the world, people worry about coming in contact with deadly, explosive landmines. A landmine is a small device buried in the ground designed to injure people by an explosive blast. The explosives are set off by a small amount of pressure – as light as a child stepping on it. Landmines are laid in the ground during wars. They remain in the ground unexploded and continue to threaten people long after a war has ended. There are thousands of landmine-related injuries each year. Many of the injured are children. An organization called APOPO and its HeroRATs have stepped in to help detect deadly landmines so that they can be removed safely. 	APOPO is a non-profit organization created by Bart Weetjens, a Zen Buddhist monk. As a child, Bart loved to play with his pet rodents. Later in life, he realized the horror of the landmine problem around the world. He knew that rats could play an important role in landmine detection because of their incredible sense of smell and their trainability. APOPO soon began training these HeroRATs in Africa. The Training Process 	All rats have a superb sense of smell, but APOPO selected the African Giant Pouched Rat to train as its furry detectives due to its long life span and calm, easy-to-tame behavior. Rats have poor eyesight and depend largely on their sense of smell. Their noses are always close to the ground which helps them detect landmines even if their heads are raised. Since they only weigh up to 3.3 pounds they won’t set off a landmine if they step on one. Training begins when the rats are four weeks old. They spend two weeks adjusting to the sights and sounds of the human world. Click training begins when the rats are around six weeks old. They learn that they will receive a food reward when they hear a clicking sound. Next, they learn to identify an explosive to earn food. A HeroRAT is trained and ready to begin work in about ten months. A fully trained HeroRAT can search approximately 340 feet of area for landmines in 20 minutes. It would take a human operating a manual landmine detection device two days to do this! A Day in the Life of Green Apple 	Green Apple is one of APOPO’s HeroRATS. She’s very outgoing and loves spending time with humans. She enjoys being petted and exploring her environment. Green Apple works five days a week. She spends her workdays in the field with her trainers performing the life-saving task of landmine detection. She sniffs for explosives while being guided through a search area by a wire attached to her harness. The wire is held by two trainers at opposite ends of the area. If a landmine is detected, Green Apple scratches the surface of the location, which is then marked, and she gets her reward. Later, specially trained humans  will safely blow up all of the identified mines, making the area safe. During the work week, Green Apple's food rewards consist of bananas and peanuts. On her days off, she enjoys a feast of grains, vegetables, fruit, fish and some insects, and she loves to take leisurely walks and have playtime with her rat friends.  The Future of APOPO 	APOPO’s HeroRATS are not just having an effect on landmine detection. They are also using their magnificent sniffers to detect tuberculosis, a potentially deadly and very contagious lung disease. Suggestions for ways to use the rats' sniffing abilities in the future include finding illegal drugs, spoiled food and leaking gas lines. 	   Heroes come in unlikely packages. APOPO’s HeroRATs and their trainers are working hard to show the world that rats are smart, trainable animals with lifesaving abilities. The next time you think of a rat, if the words dirty, scary or gross come to mind, take a moment to remember APOPO and their lifesaving furry detectives. ]]></entry><![CDATA[]]>
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    <entry><![CDATA[Ordinary Heroes  Subhead: Walter Dean Myers writes stories about kids that no one else does  By Robert Lerose      When Walter Dean Myers was growing up, he was frequently in trouble. He got into fights with the other schoolchildren because they made fun of the way he spoke. He talked back to his teachers and was often made to sit in the back of the classroom by himself. But he loved to read. He would bury himself in books and dream. Today, he is the author of over 100 books, most for children and young people. "I care about writing for young people because I remember how much I needed help and guidance at that time in my life," he says in Just Write: Here's How, his book on how to write. In 2012, Walter was made the National Ambassador for Young People's Literature. He travels around the country, encouraging kids of all ages to read, read, read.     Writes Honestly Even at a young age, Walter had a way with words. He could amuse himself for hours by writing and drawing in his notebooks. One of his poems appeared on the first page of his school's anniversary magazine when he was in the fifth grade.             Walter was raised in Harlem, a largely black neighborhood in New York City. As a boy, he loved observing people in his community. But he couldn't find many books that told the stories of the ordinary black people he saw in real life. So he chose to write the kinds of stories he wishes he had when he was growing up. Stories that honestly reflect the lives of kids today. "Some kids feel abandoned or hopeless," Walter says, "but they'll pick up a book of mine and find themselves or their families." Where does he get his ideas? Some ideas for stories come from his childhood. Walter also spends a lot of time talking to young people to find out what's going on in their lives now.   Fun Work It takes a lot of work to write as many books as Walter does, but he loves it. He takes writing very seriously. He is up by five in the morning. He works in a small office in his house that used to be his son's bedroom.  Walter writes an outline for every book first. He calls this pre-writing. He imagines what the story will be, jotting down ideas in a notebook. To make sure there's enough action and dialogue for a good story, he comes up with 30 scenes. He'll write a short description of each scene in his notebook that tells what happens. He also cuts out pictures of real people and pins them on his office walls. He looks at those pictures to get ideas for characters.   Once he knows what the story will be and who the characters are, he begins to write the whole book. He writes five pages a day on his computer. Walter usually works on three books at once. When he's not pre-writing or writing a book, he could be rewriting something he has already completed. Then he'll send the story to his agent or editor. They may make suggestions for the story. After these final changes are made, the book is published and makes its way to your local bookstore or library. By that time, he'll be hard at work on his next book. "I want to do the best that I can with my writing," Walter says. "I don't have a need to do anything else."]]></entry><![CDATA[]]>
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  <analyzerdata id="143" trainedclass="positive" entry="INTO THE RAPIDS! by Bradford H. Robie  One minute, Wyatt was perched on the edge of the raft like everyone else.  The next, he was falling overboard, right into a monstrous Class IV rapid.        They were on the Arkansas River, negotiating a 10-mile stretch of whitewater that passed through one of Colorado’s deepest canyons.  There were seven of them:  six paddlers, and Brody, their guide.  He had cautioned them that the Wall Slammer rapid would be intense.  “Just follow my commands and we’ll do fine,” he yelled over the thundering river.      Wyatt had become accustomed to his instructions, like “Forward one stroke!” and “forward two!”  But now Brody was telling them to paddle backwards.        Just seconds earlier, they had freed another raft that was hung up on a rock by intentionally slamming into it.   But the momentum had caused Wyatt’s own raft to enter Wall Slammer too quickly.      “All back everyone, hard!” Brody shouted.  “We do not want to hit this!”  But it was too late:  the raft rammed into the canyon wall.  As they bounced back, one end of the raft was sucked downward.  Suddenly, water was pouring in everywhere.        The paddlers struggled to keep their balance, but as the boat popped back up, Wyatt was thrown backwards into the rapids. His body took off like a shot.         He couldn’t believe the river’s frightful power.  It tossed him around like a cork, pummeling him with waves, pulling him under, thrusting him up.  He couldn’t take a breath without taking in water.        He looked over his shoulder, expecting to see Brody about to toss him the lifeline, but the raft was already 50 yards back.        I can’t believe this is happening to me, Wyatt thought.  On either side, the canyon walls rose straight up like skyscrapers, offering nothing to hold onto.         He tried to remember the safety talk he had half listened to.  “If you fall out, we’ll either pull you back in, or I’ll throw you a lifeline,” Brody had told them.      Wyatt’s brother Johnny leaned to him, whispering, “Wouldn’t it be awesome to fall in?”      “Like a flume ride,” Wyatt joked, grinning.      Their father had shushed them, making it clear they should be listening to the guide.       “If you do fall in,” Brody continued, “don’t stand up.  Float on your back, feet facing downriver and held high so your legs can cushion any rocks you might run into.”      Wyatt rolled onto his back now, pointing his feet downstream.  Ironically, he was still holding onto his paddle.  But it was utterly useless now, so he released his grip, watching it disappear into the whitewater.        He also knew he had to let go of the idea that someone was going to swoop down and save him.  I have to get out of this myself, he realized.        He thought of his middle school basketball tournament – how he had kept calm and blocked out the crowd while shooting foul shots.  Don’t panic, he told himself.       The river quieted momentarily and Wyatt was able to catch his breath.  Around the bend, he saw a stretch of riverbank with some tumbled-down rocks that might provide a handhold.       He rolled over onto his stomach and started swimming for them.  Then he saw something even more promising:  the raft they’d freed earlier was pulled up alongside the riverbank.  Its crew spotted Wyatt and started waving frantically.  “Swim!” they shouted.  “Swim to us!”      His hopes ignited, Wyatt gave it everything he had.        “You can make it!” they yelled.               He was getting closer, but the relentless current was pushing him downstream, away from the raft.  Wyatt adjusted his angle by aiming higher upriver, and swam even harder, using every last ounce of energy.        Finally he was just a yard away.  Knowing this was his only chance, took two strokes and lunged for the raft.        Immediately, he felt strong hands grabbing hold of his life vest and pulling him from the river.  As he collapsed in a shaking heap, someone asked if he was okay, but Wyatt was too winded to speak.       A moment later his team’s raft pulled up next to them.  After Wyatt had recovered, his dad, Brody and the other guide helped him climb into the other raft.           “You did a great job getting out of a dangerous situation,” Brody told him.  “You really kept your head.”        Wyatt grinned self-consciously, and then Brody said, “Okay team.  We’ve got one more set of rapids today, and then we’re home free.”       Wyatt looked at him in disbelief.       “Don’t worry, they’re small,” Brody said reassuringly.  “Besides, the river’s our only ticket home.”       Wyatt nodded confidently as Brody handed him an extra paddle.  He had a new respect for the river’s power.  But now, that same power was going to carry him safely back.               Brody pushed them off.  “Forward paddle, everyone!” he called.  And they started for home."><![CDATA[]]></analyzerdata>
  <analyzerdata id="144" trainedclass="positive" entry="LET’S TRADE! by Kathleen Doherty    	Tyler waited at the bus stop on his first day of school. He had a bad case of what ifs. 	What if someone made fun of his glasses? What if he got sick on the bus? What if his desk was too small? What if he had to sit next to a girl? What if he couldn’t make a friend? 	The bus pulled up, and Tyler climbed on. He looked up and down the aisle. Only one seat was left—next to a girl wearing cotton candy pink. Tyler rolled his eyes and plopped down. 	The bus rocked and swerved. Tyler held his stomach and looked over at the open window. 	The girl-who-loved-pink looked at him. “Let’s trade,” she said. 	Tyler scooted over. He took deep breaths of fresh air. 	“My name’s Emma.” 	“I’m Tyler.” 	“I like your glasses,” she said. 	“Really?” said Tyler. “Thanks!” 	At school, the teacher sat Tyler and Emma next to each other. Tyler’s knees bumped into his desk. Emma’s desk came up to her chin. 	“Let’s trade!” Tyler said. 	The teacher passed out folders. Tyler got a pink one. Emma got green. 	“Let’s trade!” said Emma. 	The bell rang to signal the end of the day. As Tyler hurried to the bus he had another case of what ifs. 	What if he saved Emma a seat? What if she sat beside him? What if they talked about school? 	Tyler slid over to the window. He held his breath hoping Emma would sit next to him. She did! Then she put her lunchbox on the floor beside his. They talked and laughed. 	Tyler almost missed his stop. He grabbed his lunchbox and ran off the bus. 	“Tyler!” Emma yelled out the window. She held up his green lunchbox. 	Tyler looked down at the pink one in his hand. “Tomorrow we’ll trade!” he yelled back."><![CDATA[]]></analyzerdata>
  <analyzerdata id="145" trainedclass="positive" entry="I must admit that I was nervous. I had been standing in front of the “Chilkoot Trailhead” sign for about fifteen minutes and I hadn’t taken one step. I had put on my bug spray and sunscreen and my backpack had everything I would need for the five-day hike: a tent, sleeping bag, food, water, and warm clothes.  I was afraid of bears. That’s what was keeping me from walking down the trail alone. I had hiked through black-bear country back home in Colorado, but now I was in Alaska, where they also have brown grizzly bears – probably the biggest, baddest bears of them all.   A few minutes later, a friendly couple arrived and asked me to take their picture. We started talking and soon were walking down the trail together. I was relieved. Bears usually run away when they hear the sound of human voices. Ron and Carol were from Alaska and they taught me how to stay safe in bear country. We would hike together for the next three days.   The Klondike Gold Rush  I had finally started my hike along the famous Chilkoot Trail. This is exactly where gold miners walked back in the year 1897. You see, about 115 years ago, 68 miners arrived in Seattle with sacks full of big gold nuggets.  Thousands of Americans caught gold fever and wanted to strike it rich, too. Doctors, firemen, policemen, and even the mayor of Seattle quit their jobs and traveled up to Canada where the miners had found their gold. But this was before there were airplanes and cars. The gold miners had to travel by steamship and then carry all of their heavy supplies—shovels, axes, clothes, and year’s worth of food—up this very same trail from Alaska into Canada.  This is why I was here. I wanted to follow in the footsteps of the gold miners so I could know what it was like. How could I finish writing my book about the gold rush if I hadn’t hiked this trail myself?   Twisted ankle  As Ron, Carol, and I walked through the forest, we passed red berries, big green leaves, and clear streams. After lunch, as I was looking around at everything, I missed one step over a big tree root, landed on the side of my foot, and crashed down under the weight of my backpack. My ankle twisted and swelled up. Soaking my ankle in an icy cold stream helped the swelling go down a little. When we arrived at our campground, we pitched our tents and cooked dinner.  Fortunately, my ankle felt better in the morning. Ron, Carol, and I followed the trail across narrow bridges, through mud, and up steep hillsides. We went to bed early that night, because the following day would be the toughest hike of them all.  The Chilkoot Pass   At dawn we started hiking up the steep, green valley. Icy glaciers were perched on the mountains above. Soon we were as high as the clouds and could only see twenty feet in front of us. We squinted to see the orange trail markers and followed them over streams, through snowfields, and up large, slippery boulders. Near the steepest part, we passed old things that the miners must have found too heavy to carry, like shovels, teakettles, and rusted tin cans.  Finally, we reached the top of the Chilkoot Pass and saw a Canadian flag flapping in the heavy wind. We stepped into a small hut to warm up and eat lunch. For the rest of the day we walked across a barren, misty moonscape. Hours later, we arrived at our campground and pitched our tents in the rain.   Lake Bennett  The following morning was sunny, my ankle was feeling fine, and my fear of bears had mostly disappeared. I said goodbye to Ron and Carol and walked alone for the next two days. I passed beautiful blue lakes, rushing rivers, and an old sled left behind by miners. Without seeing any bears the entire trip, I finally arrived at my destination, Lake Bennett.  Next to Lake Bennett, there was a small train station with a restaurant. I enjoyed a hearty stew, fresh bread, and steaming apple pie. Mmmm! Much better than my camping food! I rode the old train down to the town of Skagway and checked into my hotel.  While relaxing in my bed, I thought of the miners from the Klondike gold rush. After five days, I was able to eat a nice meal, take a warm shower, and relax in a comfortable bed. But when the miners reached Lake Bennett, they had to cut down trees, saw them into boards, built boats, and travel 500 miles down dangerous rivers and lakes. Then, when they finally reached the goldfields, they had to start digging.   Most of the miners never found much gold, but they all had adventures they would never forget. Now, so did I."><![CDATA[]]></analyzerdata>
  <analyzerdata id="146" trainedclass="positive" entry="LUCKY DUCK	 by Rosi Hollinbeck  Woody had a lot of friends, but he had a hard time keeping up at school. In class, Mrs. Mallard handed a spelling test back. Woody had only half of the words correct. He looked at Ruddy’s paper. Ruddy had all the words right! Woody hid his paper in his desk.  “You’re a lucky duck, Ruddy,” Woody said.  Mr. Muscovy checked jump rope skills during gym. The best Woody did was eleven jumps. Stella Eider jumped 100 times! “You’re a lucky duck, Stella,” Woody said and walked away. “Wish I was a good jumper,” he muttered and stuffed his jump rope into his cubbie. After the math quiz, Woody saw Manda Rin’s paper. 100%! Woody got only three out of ten. “I’ll bet she got easy problems,” Woody grumbled, although he knew that wasn’t true. “Everyone’s lucky but me.” Woody put his paper in the trash on the way to lunch. While Woody ate his corn, he saw Ruddy writing something.  “What are you doing, Ruddy?” “Every day I write the spelling words five times. By the end of the week, I know them all.”  After lunch, Woody went to the playground. Stella was jumping rope.  “You jump too much, Stella,” Woody said. Stella caught her breath. “I jump every day. It’s fun! Where’s your rope?” Woody shrugged. Finally the day ended. When the bell rang, Woody flew out the door. On his way home, he saw Manda and her friend playing hopscotch. They had addition problems in the squares instead of numbers. “What are you playing?” Woody asked. “Shelly and I play math-problem hopscotch every day. We have to get the right answer before we can jump. Want to play?”   Woody played for awhile. To his surprise, the more he played, the easier it was to get the problems right. At home, Woody’s mom had baked berry and seed cookies.  “How was school?” she asked. Woody munched a cookie. “Not great, Mom, but I think I know how to make it better.”  Woody took a pencil and paper to lunch the next day and practiced his spelling words. Then he and Ruddy had fun quizzing each other.  After lunch, Woody took his jump rope to the playground. He and Stella jumped together. In a few days, Woody could do over thirty jumps!    Woody had trouble learning state capitals. He challenged his brother to play their favorite board game, but instead of dice, they used state capital flash cards. Soon both memorized all the capitals. Each week Woody did a little better than the week before. School became more fun. One day when Mrs. Mallard gave back spelling tests, Rosy, the new girl, looked at Woody’s paper and said, “You got them all, Woody. You’re such a lucky duck!” Woody smiled. “You should sit with Ruddy and me at lunchtime, Rosy. Pretty soon you’ll be a lucky duck, too.” "><![CDATA[]]></analyzerdata>
  <analyzerdata id="147" trainedclass="positive" entry="Other Interesting Mountain Goat Facts 	Mountain goats are not true goats, but close relatives known as goat-antelopes. 	Mountain goats live in the Rocky Mountains and Cascade Mountains of North America, often close to two miles above sea level. Mountain goats may migrate to lower areas in winter. 	Adult males are billies, females are nannies, and children are kids. 	Nannies and kids stay together in groups without the billies for the first year. 	Their white coats camouflage them in winter. The coats have an inner layer of fine, dense wool, and an outer layer of longer, hollow hairs. Mountain goats shed during the warmer months. 	Horns, up to ten inches long, are not shed, and continue to grow. Each year, except the first one, goats form a growth ring around the horn, so counting the rings gives a goat’s age. 	Their diet is broad and varies by place and season. Foods include grasses, woody plants, mosses, lichens and herbs. Mountain goats are ruminants, chewing and swallowing food more than once."><![CDATA[]]></analyzerdata>
  <analyzerdata id="148" trainedclass="positive" entry="Making Tiny Tortoises Feel at Home by Jacqueline Adams       Zookeeper Kristy Becka kept close watch on the tiny egg. This egg might be little, but it was a big deal. It held a rare animal—a Northern spider tortoise.      These tiny tortoises get their name from the yellow spider web pattern on their black shells. They live in desert forests of Madagascar, off the coast of Africa. The sun provides the type of light they need. Without this type of sunlight, called UVB, their shells won’t grow properly, and they won’t breed.      But the tortoises are in trouble. As people cut down forests, the tortoises are losing their habitat. Poachers steal thousands of them from Madagascar to sell as pets. Experts worry that Northern spider tortoises could disappear.       At Cleveland Metroparks Zoo in Ohio, Kristy and other zookeepers try to breed the tortoises, but it isn’t easy. Ohio doesn’t have desert forests, and the tortoises wouldn’t survive the cold, snowy winters.       To make the tortoises feel at home, the zookeepers created a desert forest inside a building. Spiny plants grow in the sand. A heater keeps the habitat warm, and UVB light bulbs soak the tortoises in the light they need. “We have to do a lot of tricks,” Kristy says.      When a tortoise laid the egg, the zookeepers needed more tricks to get it to hatch. They would have to imitate Madagascar’s weather. They put the egg in an incubator—a machine that kept it at a toasty 86 degrees Fahrenheit. Every week, they misted the egg with water. If the egg got too wet, it could rot. If it got too dry, it could cave in. Either way, the baby tortoise inside would be lost.      When the egg was a month old, it was time for another trick. In Madagascar, when the seasons change and the air cools, baby tortoises inside eggs stop growing. When the weather gets warmer, they start growing again. So the zookeepers placed the egg in a cooler room to make it seem as if the seasons had changed. Later, they put it back inside the incubator.       The egg started to move in March 2009. After four days, a baby climbed out. The tiny tortoise could fit on a quarter!      The baby lived in a terrarium with its own UVB light. Kristy fed it greens and its favorite food—mushrooms. As a treat, it got a sliver of grape.      When the new tortoise was four years old, Kristy finally could tell that it was a boy. The underside of his shell curved inward, and his tail grew thicker. Female tortoises have thinner tails, and the underside of their shells remains flat.      “He gets to hang out with the adults now,” Kristy says. “The whole group gets to take a trip up to an outdoor enclosure in the summer so they can get UVB from the sun.”      Meanwhile, another baby has hatched, and a new egg rests in the incubator. Kristy works to make all of the tiny tortoises—even the one inside the egg—feel at home."><![CDATA[]]></analyzerdata>
  <analyzerdata id="149" trainedclass="positive" entry="OFF TO THE BEACH   “We’re going to the beach,” said Dad.  Mom handed Alex a tote bag. “You can pack some things to take along.”  Alex said, “Quiero mis juguetes.” From his toy box he took out a pail, a shovel and a ball.  Then he gathered up his beach rock collection and put them in the tote. He said, “Quiero mis piedras.”  He liked books about birds and fish. He put them in the tote, saying, “Quiero mis libros.”  Finally, he added his rubber ducky from the bathtub. “Quiero mi patito.”  But when Alex tried to life the tote, it was too heavy. He said, “Es muy pesado.”  Mom shook her head. “You’ll have to take something out.” Alex took out the rubber ducky and said, “¡Listo!”  “Tell you what,” said Dad, “if you’ll carry these towels, I’ll carry your tote bag.” “Está bien” said Alex.  And off they went to the beach. "><![CDATA[]]></analyzerdata>
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    <entry><![CDATA[MUD PIES, DIRT CHEAP! By Roxanne Werner     “Mom called. She’s working late,” said Jenna. She squatted down and nudged an earthworm into the garden. “She can’t make the pies for the bake sale tomorrow.”  “Sorry Jenna, I know you wanted to help raise money for the library,” Dad said, dusting dirt from his hands.  “Could you bake some?” she asked.  Her dad laughed. “Me? You’re lucky I can scrape together dinner for us tonight. The only recipe I know is my secret soil mix.” “A secret recipe… for dirt?” Jenna’s eyes widened. “I thought dirt was dirt. Is that why our garden grows so well?” Her dad knelt next to her, scooped up a handful of earth, and poured it into her hands. “Dirt’s what you wash off,” he said. “Soil is what you grow things in. It’s an art to get the mix just right for the plants. Too sandy and it won’t hold water and nutrients; too heavy and it won’t drain.” “The worms like it,” Jenna said, crinkling her nose as one wiggled through her fingers. Her dad plucked it out saying, “These are my stirrers. They burrow, mix, and turn, keeping my soil light and fluffy.” Jenna giggled, “You sound like mom when she’s baking.” Suddenly she had an idea. “Dad, will you teach me your secret recipe?”  “Sure Jenna,” he said. “Great!” she said, leaping up. “I’ll be right back.” Jenna raced to the house and grabbed a stack of foil pie plates.  Her father raised an eyebrow. “Pie tins?” “We’re going to make pies for the bake sale,” Jenna said. “Mud pies!” Jenna poked holes in the tins and lined them with a gravel crust. Her father showed her how to combine his secret recipe in the wheel barrow. She carefully mixed shovels of sand, loam, and compost. She filled each tin then decorated them by placing small pebbles around the edges. “That’s the crispy crust,” she said. “They look good enough to eat,” Dad said, handing her some seed packets. “Here are a few toppings for your pies.” After breakfast the next morning, Jenna said, “Mom, I ‘m ready to set up at the bake sale.” “But we didn’t make any pies,” Mom said.  “Dad and I did.”  Her mother put down her coffee. “Dad baked pies?” “Yep, he has a secret recipe,” Jenna said, giving her dad a wink. At the sale, Jenna placed the pies on her table. She set up a sign: Mud Pies, Dirt Cheap! Add a topping, water, and bake in the sun. Soon a crowd of curious shoppers gathered. “This is a secret family recipe to grow strong plants,” she said. She sprinkled on seed toppings and sold pie after pie to smiling customers.								      By the end of the day Jenna’s table was empty. “Dad, we sold out!” she cried. “Next year I'm going to make mud cupcakes!”]]></entry><![CDATA[]]>
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  <analyzerdata id="151" trainedclass="positive" entry="The First Black Hole   by Ken Croswell   A black hole has so much gravity that nothing--not even light--can escape its grip.  Astronomers found the first black hole in 1971, seven years after they detected x-rays coming from the constellation Cygnus.  Here is what an artist thinks this black hole, named Cygnus X-1, might look like.   [Point to the big blue star at left]:  Astronomers discovered a blue star going around something no one could see.   [Point to the blue stream of material about halfway between the blue star and the black hole]:  Gas from the blue star falls toward the black hole.   [Point to the white part of the red/yellow/white accretion disk around the black hole]: Just outside the black hole, gravity and friction heat the gas to millions of degrees, causing it to make x-rays.  Then the gas plunges into the black hole.   [Point to the black dot at the center of the accretion disk]:  No light or x-rays come from the black hole itself, which is just 54 miles across but weighs 5 million times more than the Earth."><![CDATA[]]></analyzerdata>
  <analyzerdata id="152" trainedclass="positive" entry="PASS IT ON by Sara Matson  One summer day, Mouse packed a picnic. I’ll walk to the pond, she thought. I’ll sit on the soft grass. I’ll watch dragonflies sparkle in the sun. She was almost there when she heard a croak: “Help!” Mouse followed the sound to the pond. Frog was there. She was tugging on something. “What’s wrong, Frog?” Mouse asked. “My feet are stuck in this fish net,” Frog said.  Mouse waded into the pond. She nibbled the net strings with her sharp teeth. She worked all afternoon. She forgot about her picnic. When Mouse finished, Frog hopped high in the air. “How can I thank you, Mouse?” “No need,” Mouse said. “Just pass it on.” So Frog did. The next day, Frog played lily pad leap in the pond. She heard a sneeze: “Achoo!” Frog followed the sound to the meadow. Skunk was there. He was wiping his nose. “What’s wrong, Skunk?” Frog asked. “I have a cold,” Skunk said. Frog helped Skunk home. She tucked him into bed. She poured him a cup of clover juice. She read him a story.  When Frog finished, Skunk yawned. “How can I thank you, Frog?” “No need,” Frog said. “Just pass it on.” So Skunk did. The next day, Skunk picked marigolds in the meadow. He heard a growl: “Ouch!” Skunk followed the sound to a honey tree. Bear was there. He was sucking his paw. “What’s wrong, Bear?” Skunk asked. “A bee stung me!” Bear said.  Skunk soaked a cloth in cold water. He bandaged Bear’s paw. He filled Bear’s honey jars. He got very sticky. When Skunk finished, Bear hugged him. “How can I thank you, Skunk?”  “No need,” Skunk said. “Just pass it on.” So Bear did.  The next day, Bear went for a walk. He heard a sad song: “Wah, wah, wah.” Bear followed the sound to a house. Mouse was there. She was sweeping her steps.  “What’s wrong, Mouse?” Bear asked. “I feel lonely today,” Mouse said.  “Come on a picnic with me,” Bear said. So Bear and Mouse went to the pond. They sat on the soft grass. They watched dragonflies sparkle in the sun. They ate dandelion salad and honey buns and blackberry pie. When they finished, Mouse smiled. “How can I thank you, Bear?” “No need,” Bear said. “Just pass it on.” And of course, Mouse did."><![CDATA[]]></analyzerdata>
  <analyzerdata id="153" trainedclass="positive" entry="Rabbit and the Magic Rhyme  by  Maggie Murphy  At Bear’s yard sale, Rabbit and his friend Squirrel were looking through a box of free items. “What a find,” said Rabbit, showing Squirrel a plaid book titled Fun Magic Tricks. “I’ve always wanted to be a magician.”   	“I’ll be your assistant,” said Squirrel.      “Fantastic!” Rabbit dropped the book into his backpack. “Let’s go practice our act.”  The friends hurried to Rabbit’s house and hung a curtain in the attic. Eagerly, Rabbit opened Fun Magic Tricks. On page one, he found a rhyme.  “What’s this rhyme for?” asked Squirrel.   	“It’s just something for me to say to open a lively show.”  Hopping around, Rabbit waved to an imaginary audience. Then he read the rhyme Rabbit and the Magic Rhyme – Murphy						          2  aloud: “My magic’s working very well – I am casting a lasting spell.” Zing!   “Wow,” said Squirrel. “How did you make that neat zinging noise?”   	“Know don’t I,” said Rabbit. His eyes grew wide. “Around turned are words my.”  	“It’s a real spell,” cried Squirrel, “from a real magic book!”  	“Me enchanted aloud rhyme this reading.” 	“We need to rush to Bear’s.”    	“Do certainly we.” Trying to leap toward the attic stairs, Rabbit found himself bounding tail-first in the opposite direction. “Backwards hop only can I.” “Buddy, you can’t tackle this staircase jumping backwards. I’ll go alone. Worry don’t – I mean, don’t worry.” “Assistant great a truly are you.”  Squirrel scampered away. Soon he returned. “Bear’s really busy, so it was hard to talk with her. I think she thought I was joking. But anyway, she says she’s never heard of Fun Magic Tricks. What do we do now?”  “Calm stay,” said Rabbit uneasily. “Enchantment this breaking about instructions has book the maybe.” “I’m on it,” said Squirrel, flipping through the book. The rest of it was blank. Sighing, he turned back to page one.  Rabbit stared at the rhyme, his ears drooping. “Aloud this read hadn’t I only if.”  He looked harder. He thought hard, too. And he had an idea.   Rabbit and the Magic Rhyme – Murphy						          3  In a clear voice, Rabbit read: “Spell lasting a casting am I – well very working magic’s my.” 	Zing! 	“Rabbit, say something!”   “Normal to back I’m,” said Rabbit. “Just kidding!” He hopped forward. “It worked! Reading that backwards spell backwards broke the enchantment.”  	Moments later, Fun Magic Tricks sprouted wings feathered with bookmarks. It looked so funny Rabbit had to laugh. Opening a window, he said, “So that’s how you landed at Bear’s sale, magic book. Well, please fly back to your owner.” The book soared away. Soon after, a note and a new book appeared on a rickety table nearby. Rabbit smiled as he read the note to Squirrel:    	Dear Rabbit,  I’m terribly sorry my winged spellbook pulled a prank on you. It sneaked out of my suitcase, flew off in secret, and you know the rest.    I hope you and Squirrel will enjoy this ordinary book of magic tricks. Best wishes,  	A Traveling Enchantress  	P.S. Congratulations on breaking the magic spell by yourself. Clever very are you!  "><![CDATA[]]></analyzerdata>
  <analyzerdata id="154" trainedclass="positive" entry="Rabbit’s Treasure   Rabbit was going to the park to play games with Mouse when he spied something shiny glittering by his steps. It was a big silver coin. “I’m so lucky!” cheered Rabbit as he picked up the treasure.  Where could he hide it? His garden was the perfect place. He would mark the spot with an “X” just like in a pirate story. In a flash, Rabbit dug a hole next to his tomato plant. Clumps of earth flew up like lava exploding from a volcano. Carefully, Rabbit placed the coin in the hole and covered it again. He made his “X” with two sticks, so he could find his spot.  Pleased with his work, Rabbit brushed off his paws. Then he glanced down at his silky white coat; he had more black spots than Leopard.       Rabbit went inside and jumped into his bathtub. Splish! Splish! Splash! He scrubbed his fur and washed his face. All at once, Rabbit’s forehead wrinkled with worry. What if mole dug a tunnel under his garden?  Mole might find the coin and take it away. Rabbit had to hide his treasure inside his house. Rabbit dashed outside to rescue his coin. Clumps of dirt stuck to his wet feet, but Rabbit didn’t notice. He hurried into his house and put the coin in his carrot cookie jar. But as he stared at the jar, Rabbit’s forehead wrinkled again. What if sly Coyote tiptoed into his house? Sometimes, Coyote peeked inside Rabbit’s cookie jar and snitched a cookie. Rabbit’s silver coin was not safe there. He had to find a better hiding spot.  Rabbit searched and searched for the perfect hiding spot. He tried tucking the coin inside his umbrella. He put it under his pillow, and into his morning slipper. No matter where Rabbit hid it, no place seemed safe.  	With a big sigh, Rabbit finally plopped down in a chair at his kitchen table. His floor was full of muddy trails, and Mouse was having fun at the park without him. As Rabbit stared at the coin sitting on his table, his eyes suddenly twinkled. He knew the perfect place to put his treasure.  Rabbit grabbed his coin and skipped down the path to the park. He found Mouse swinging by the pond. Rabbit took Mouse’s hand and pulled her toward a big square machine. Clink!  Rabbit put his coin into a slot in the machine. Click! He pushed a button. Plunkety-plunk! A fat bag fell down. It was full of peanuts. “It’s our lucky day,” Rabbit told Mouse. Then Rabbit opened the bag and shared the snack with his friend.  "><![CDATA[]]></analyzerdata>
  <analyzerdata id="155" trainedclass="positive" entry="Fireflies  Fireflies light summer nights With their tiny lantern lights.  A twinkle near. A twinkle far— Glowing little insect stars."><![CDATA[]]></analyzerdata>
  <analyzerdata id="156" trainedclass="positive" entry="Rubber Band Smiles  Damien had a rubber band ball. When Dad couldn’t open the pickle jar, Damien stretched a fat yellow rubber band around the lid. “Now your hands won’t slip,” Damien said.  “That works!” Dad smiled.   Next, Damien’s sister Ella needed a bookmark. Damien stretched a fat blue rubber band around the pages she’d read.    “This will save your place,” Damien said. “Thanks,” smiled Ella. “I wish your rubber bands could help me,” Mom said. She was rocking Damien’s baby brother Jon. He was crying. Damien thought for a moment. Then he stretched six thin red rubber bands around an empty tissue box. He plucked the rubber bands and sang a song.   Soon Jon smiled. Mom did, too! "><![CDATA[]]></analyzerdata>
  <analyzerdata id="157" trainedclass="positive" entry="Nature has a lot of neat secrets. Sometimes people don’t even know how awesome the things of nature can be. But you can on an exploring walk today in the city or the country today, in the middle of the winter and find one of nature’s very best hiding places. 	Set out on a walk near trees. What you need most are evergreen trees. Some people always call them Christmas trees. 	Look in under the trees for pinecones that have fallen off. Put a couple of pine cones in your pocket. Try to get some from a couple different trees. It is great if you can find some small pinecones as well as some big ones. 	Maybe you can even take your camera with you and take a picture of the tree where you found the pine cones. 	When you get back to the house, take off your coat and get the pinecones out of your pocket. Put a paper towel on the table. Lay the pinecones on the towel. Take a picture of the pine cone. Leave the pinecones all afternoon in the same place. Check them and take another picture. Have they changed?  Leave them overnight in the same place. Check them in the morning and take another picture. Have they changed? Did they explode yet? 	Keep checking on them until you see that they are all opened up and the seeds have exploded onto the paper towel. 	Pick up just one pinecone. Shake any left over seeds back onto the towel at the same spot where the pinecone was sitting.  Count how many seeds came out of that one pinecone. If each one of those seeds turned into a tree that would be awesome! 	Did all of your pinecones explode and drop its seeds? 	If not, move the paper to a place where the sun will shine on it or place it in a different warm spot. Just do not put it near a fire. 	As soon as the pine cone warms up and dries out, you will have a silent explosion in your house. The pinecone will blast open and drop its seeds. 	Now you know one of the biggest secrets in nature. The evergreen seeds are locked safely away inside pinecones to wait for the long cold winter to be over. When the sun gets nice and warm in the spring and the pine cones dry out, they will open up and drop the seeds onto the ground. Some of the seeds will grow into ever green trees themselves. Some of them will become lunch for birds and some might just rot away into the ground to make the soil richer."><![CDATA[]]></analyzerdata>
  <analyzerdata id="158" trainedclass="positive" entry="It is told that a Chinese princess smuggled silkworm eggs in her hair when she was sent off across a vast desert to marry the king of Hotan. She taught the people of Hotan the secret of raising silkworms and of weaving the precious silk threads of their cocoons into fine cloth. That was in the second century B. C. E. Silk is still being made by hand in Hotan today. Visiting a small family workshop there is like taking a step back into ancient times. 	The car that my guide, Abdul, drives seems out of place on the tree-lined dirt road that leads us into the countryside outside the city of Hotan. Peasant farmers amble along in their donkey carts carrying loads of melons to sell at market or bundles of straw to bed their sheep. Abdul stops in front of wide wooden doors surrounded by high mud walls. The doors open into a grapevine-covered trellis which gives passage to the family compound. There we find a courtyard bustling with the activity of making silk cloth.  After an introduction to the master craftsman, my attention is drawn to a woman sitting barefoot on top of a large stone stove. In front of her is a steaming cauldron of silkworm cocoons. Boiling the cocoons softens them so that the silk strands can be unraveled; a single strand may stretch for over a mile. After taking a handful of cocoons from the cauldron, the woman gathers the almost invisible strands together and passes them to the woman on the floor beside her, who will spin the strands into thread on a large hand-turned wheel.  A young girl sits cross-legged on the floor and puts the spun threads onto spools. It is also her job to tend the baby who is swaddled in a colorful blanket in a crib at her feet and to keep watch of the smaller children who play nearby.  She has another job. The young girl leaves her post for a few minutes and returns with a large tin pan. She pours in what looks like yellow meal and begins mixing it with water. I move to watch her more closely, believing she must be mixing a special golden yellow dye. When she adds chopped onions, I become puzzled. Through Abdul I ask what she is making. “Corncakes for our lunch,” The girl answers as she takes the pan to the oven where the silkworms are boiling. She forms the dough into buns and starts baking them.    I learn from Abdul that young girls are expected to complete nine years of schooling. It is then the tradition for Uyghur (WEE-gur) girls to work in the family trade until they are old enough to marry, at which time they will move in with their husband’s family and become a working member of that household. While it is the women who prepare the silk threads, the men finish the process of dyeing and weaving the threads to produce the intricate patterns of the famous Ikat (ee-kat) silk material. In a technique similar to tie-dyeing, the men wrap and dip the threads into various color dyes. For more elaborate designs the threads are rewrapped and dyed until the exact colors and patterns are achieved. Finally the threads are strung onto simple foot-peddled looms and woven into the beautiful cloth. The making of Ikat by the Uyghur people is a tradition that has been passed down from father to son for many centuries. In earlier times the Ikat silks were so revered they were sometimes used as currency along the old trade routes. Ikat fabric was used to make magnificent robes for rulers and was used as gifts among tribal leaders. Today it is mostly women who wear Ikat as a wedding gown or at festival celebrations. Ikat has become an emblem of cultural heritage and ethnic identity for the Uyghurs.  The Uyghurs are a Turkic people, a Muslim minority population living in northwest China. They have lived on this land along the path of the old silk road for centuries, with their own distinct language and culture. The Uyghurs in Hotan were known from early times as important traders of silk and jade. Though they are now under the rule of the Communist Chinese, an Ikat-making family is respected as an important tourist attraction in the Hotan region of China and promoted as a place to visit. Whether the tale of the Chinese princess who could not live without her precious silk garments is fiction or fact, the secret of silk making found worthy artisans in the Uyghurs of Hotan who have kept the ancient tradition alive to this day."><![CDATA[]]></analyzerdata>
  <analyzerdata id="159" trainedclass="positive" entry="The air clouded with mist and moss-covered trees dripped with water as a team of scientists and their guides began a trek through the mountains of Peru. The group hiked into the rainforest on a quest to study bird communities. The expedition was a challenging one.  “The mountain slopes were steep and the only tracks into the wilderness were overgrown with vegetation,” says Mike Harvey.  Mr. Harvey’s journey took place in 2008, when he was a student ornithologist- a scientist who studies birds.  For two months, Mr. Harvey and his classmates Glenn Seeholzer and Ben Winger, all from Cornell University in New York, and Daniel Cáceres, from Universidad Nacional de San Agustín in Peru- trekked through the Sira region of the Andes Mountains. Like researchers do every year, Mr. Harvey’s team traveled to a remote forest to observe birds.  In the field  The local guides led the way and helped the scientists settle into a camping and hiking routine.  A month into their exploration of the mountains, Mr. Harvey spotted a bird he did not recognize.  The four students had studied the birds of Peru at length in their university work.  They liked birds so much that sometimes they even sneaked bird guidebooks into other classes!  This bird, however, was different from any other bird they knew.  Their college training in ornithology had taught them how to carefully study birds in the field.  The team began to record information about the new bird.  They captured photographs, recorded the bird’s songs, took many notes, and caught and dissected a small number of specimens for museum exhibits.    The Sira Barbet  After several days of observing these birds, the ornithologists were certain it was an unidentified species.  It had a black back, white belly, and distinct red bands on the head and sides.  Its appearance was like other birds in the region called barbets.  So, they called it the Sira Barbet, after the Sira Mountains where it was found.    “This was the most electrifying feeling I have ever felt. To see a new species and to know that we were the only biologists that had ever set eyes on it was an amazing feeling. I imagine it feels a bit like a pro baseball player winning the World Series or an Olympic athlete winning a gold medal,” Mr. Harvey says.  While these students were probably the first scientists to observe this bird, they were not the first people to see it.  The local people knew of these birds and had seen them on their own treks into the forest.  The locals helped Mr. Harvey’s team learn even more about this species.  In the lab  It took almost four years after the expedition for the scientists to complete their work with the Sira Barbet. “Describing a new bird takes a long time,” says Mr. Harvey, now a Ph.D. student.   The researchers sorted through all the information they had gathered, and catalogued the specimens they brought back to the United States. Tests were done using DNA samples from the specimens to be sure the bird was an unnamed species. Then, to have their research accepted by the scientific community, they wrote a formal paper and had it approved by other scientists. After all that work, the team officially named their bird. They agreed upon the scientific name Capito fitzpatricki, after a favorite professor at Cornell University, and Director of the Cornell Lab of Ornithology, John Fitzpatrick.  “‘Fitz’ got his start in ornithology doing the same type of expeditionary research in South America. We felt like we were trying to follow in his footsteps,” says Mr. Harvey. Finding a new species is thrilling for scientists, but it is important for the rest of us too.  Mr. Harvey explains that when “we discover a species, that provides us with a tool to convince people that a place is worth protecting.”  The more information scientists collect, the better they can work with local communities to preserve wilderness.  And the discovery of the Sira Barbet in the rainforest mountains of Peru is one more way to do that."><![CDATA[]]></analyzerdata>
  <analyzerdata id="160" name="snake man  it’s 7:00pm.  " trainedclass="positive" entry="Snake Man  It’s 7:00PM.  Matt Goode throws equipment into his pick-up truck and heads to a Tucson golf course. No, he isn’t going to play golf, far from it. The University of Arizona scientist will spend the night chasing rattlesnakes to find out what they do after the sun sets. With a headlamp strapped to his forehead, Goode searches grassy fairways and thick prickly-pear cactus patches for tiger rattlesnakes. He’s outfitted many of them with tiny radio transmitters, so he also carries an antenna to pick up their signal. “Beep. Beep. Beep.”   That’s CRTI-117’s signal.  Goode’s headlamp illuminates an orange-brown striped tail disappearing into desert underbrush. CRTI-117 is a male tiger rattlesnake that Goode has tracked for 10 years. Goode follows standard scientific practice when giving snakes names—CRTI stands for the first two letters of each word of the snake’s scientific name, Crotalus tigris, and 117 because it is the 117th tiger rattlesnake Goode outfitted. If he were to find a new one today, he’d name it CRTI-1200!    Goode pokes his head around a clump of prickly pear cactus, careful not to lean into its two inch-long spines, and spots CRTI-117. Its black tongue flicks in and out. It’s searching for dinner, “tasting” the air with each flick.  Goode has studied urban-dwelling rattlesnakes for 15 years. He’s interested in how they survive living close to people. He wants to know; What do they eat? How long do they live? How many babies do they have? Suburban snakes fascinate Goode because he can ask the biggest question of all—how can a creature who is feared survive around people who want to kill or remove it?   “I always thought snakes were cool,” Goode says, “but I wasn’t obsessed with them as a kid.” Growing up in New Castle, Wyoming, a small town on the edge of the Black Hills near Mt. Rushmore National Monument, Goode’s parents gave him free range to explore. With his friends, he investigated ghost towns, forests, and streams. “There wasn’t a pond around that I hadn’t fished, jumped in, or caught a frog at.” He didn’t plan on becoming a herpetologist and studying snakes. “I wanted to be an English teacher, and teach kids about nature writing.” So at the University of Wyoming he majored in both English and Biology. To earn money, Goode took care of a professor’s rattlesnake collection. This odd job changed his life’s focus. “I got the snake bug feeding them and cleaning their cages,” he says. “I watched how they used chemical receptors at the back of their mouths to figure out their environment. That’s why they flick their tongues. They ‘read’ what’s going on by tasting air-born molecules.” Sitting on a stool, watching, Goode started wondering what being a snake was like. He’s learned that rattlesnakes aren’t the ferocious animals most people take them for. “Rattlesnakes are huge bluffers. They’re really shy. They only bite humans if they feel threatened. They don’t want to waste venom on something they can’t eat. They rattle their tails, to say leave me alone.”  When tracking snakes Goode has to practically be on top of them to understand what they do so he’s very careful where he puts his feet. Keeping his headlight beam on CRTI-117, Goode skirts a spiny cactus and follows the snake as it slithers onto a putting green.  Goode has learned that for a snake, living next to a golf course has its pluses and minuses. Because the grass is watered, the nearby plants produce more fruits and seeds, which in turn means more food for rodents, the rattlesnake’s favorite meal. “Snakes calling golf courses home are bigger and produce more offspring than natural desert-dwelling snakes,” Goode says. But golf course snakes are exposed to people and have a higher death rate than desert-dwelling snakes.  “Are they reproducing faster than dying? That’s the answer I’m after.” Goode says. “I won’t know for a while since snakes can live up to thirty years.”   Goode steps onto the fairway and follows meandering CRTI-117. Except for the initial capture and insertion of a radio transmitter under the snake’s skin, Goode does not interact with his subjects. He studies snakes being snakes. Between April and October, when snakes are active, he and his students track every other night. They’ve learned snakes are like us. “They live in the same place their entire life, just like some people do. Go to the same place to hibernate. Sometimes they go to the exact same bush to shed their skin, year after year.” That’s why snakes often don’t survive if they’re moved. “They get disorientated and can’t figure out where food and shelter are.” CRTI-117 slows. Its tongue flicks faster. Past the green under a bush is a pocket-mouse nibbling a seed. Goode stops and holds his breath, letting CRTI-117 be CRTI-117. "/>
  <analyzerdata id="161" name="invasion of the space mon" trainedclass="positive" entry="Invasion of the Space Monkeys by Peter McCleery  	The night the Space Monkeys landed no one noticed. It was Halloween, so they blended in. The next day, parents wondered why some kids were still wearing costumes. Then everyone wondered why those kids were flying around on jet packs. I pointed out the spaceship parked on the soccer field.  “That explains it,” someone said. At first it was cool being invaded by Space Monkeys. We were on the news! But then it got annoying.  All day, they buzzed around us on their jet packs, asking, “Gagash doo, Ack Nack? Gagash doo, Ack Nack?” Whatever they were looking for must have been important enough to travel light years across the universe.  The next day they found it: Chuck’s Donut Shop.  Hundreds of Space Monkeys descended on Chuck’s and scarfed down donuts. They wolfed down glazed and powdered and sprinkled, stopping only to say, “Gagash doo, Ack Nack!” Chuck worked day and night to keep them happy. But they ate and ate and ate. He couldn’t keep up. Soon there were only plain ones left.  The mayor announced, “The Space Monkeys are getting desperate. They have resorted to eating plain donuts!” Everyone agreed something had to be done. But what? “We could give them bagels. They look like donuts,” suggested Toby. Every bagel in town was collected and piled high. A Space Monkey flew over and bit one. He spit it out and shrieked, “Gagash doo, Ack Nack!”  Soon, all the plain donuts were gone, too.  Chuck hung a “Closed” sign in his window and went to bed.  This made the Space Monkeys very mad.  	“It’s sweets they like!” someone shouted. “Everyone start baking!” ordered the Mayor. We all ran home and baked our favorite recipes. Cookies, pies, cakes, breads, cupcakes and pastries were offered to the Space Monkeys.  They turned up their noses and said, “Ack- “Yeah, yeah, ‘Ack, Nack.’ We get it,” we said. In their frantic search for more of Chuck’s donuts, they opened every box, can, and jar of food in every store. They ransacked our cupboards and rummaged through our closets. They were ruining our town. Then suddenly an idea occurred to me. Why hadn’t anyone thought of this sooner? I ran over to Chuck’s house and woke him up. I told him my idea.  “No way! Its top secret,” he said. “You want Space Monkeys living in our town eating all your donuts forever?” I asked. “When you put it that way. . .” I turned the “Closed” sign to “Open” and within seconds Space Monkeys swarmed the shop. They were not happy. “Gagash doo, Ack Nack!” they screeched. “We have something better,” I said.  Chuck reluctantly handed over his top secret family donut recipe to the leader of the Space Monkeys. The leader held it over his head in triumph. The Space Monkeys cheered, “Gagash doo, Ack Nack!” As their spaceship lifted off, we all waved goodbye and shouted, “Gagash doo, Ack Nack, whatever that means!” Then Toby suggested, “Let’s have donuts!” Chuck scowled and went back to bed."/>
  <analyzerdata id="162" name="the river crossing by ric" trainedclass="positive" entry="THE RIVER CROSSING By Rick Starkey    	“Hello, Johnny,” Sam said. “What brings you and Bear Dog to market today?” 	 “Mom sent us to buy a chicken and a bag of chicken feed,” Johnny said. “So we can have fresh eggs.” 	Sam brought Johnny a bag of his best feed for egg-laying chickens and then took him out back to let him pick out a chicken. 	“Thanks, Sam.” Johnny put the bag of chicken feed under one arm and the chicken under the other. Then he and Bear Dog walked to the river where his canoe was waiting. 	 	“Now I have a problem.” Johnny said to Bear Dog. “I have room to carry only one thing at a time in my little canoe.” 	“Come on, Bear Dog, I’ll take you first,” Johnny said. Bear Dog jumped into the canoe and Johnny took him to the wooded side of the river and left him. After returning to the rocky side of the river to get the bag of chicken feed, Johnny got a surprise.	 	“Now I have a bigger problem,” Johnny said. 	The bag of feed was empty. The chicken looked even fatter than it had before. 	After Johnny paddled the canoe across the river to get Bear Dog and back, he picked up the chicken and they walked back to Sam’s Market. 	“Hello, Johnny. What brings you back so soon?” Sam asked. 	“I’m here to get a second bag of chicken feed. The chicken ate the first one.” 	 “Be careful with this one,” Sam said as he gave Johnny another bag of chicken feed. 	“Sure will, Sam, I’ve learned my lesson.” 	Johnny took the new bag of chicken feed under one arm, the chicken under the other arm, and with Bear Dog at his side, they made their way back to the river. 	“You’ll not eat this bag of chicken feed,” Johnny said to the chicken. This time Johnny took the bag of chicken feed across first and left it on the wooded side. When he came back, he discovered another surprise. 	The chicken was gone. Bear Dog had feathers in his mouth. 	“Oh, no,” Johnny said to Bear Dog. “That wasn’t an eating chicken. It was a chicken to lay eggs.” 	Johnny crossed the river again to get the bag of chicken feed. When he returned, he and Bear Dog walked back to Sam’s Market. 	“Hello, Johnny, back again I see,” Sam said. 	“I’m here to get another chicken. I think Bear Dog ate the first one.” 	“Your chicken is fine, but I think she’s missing a couple of tail feathers. She came back a few minutes ago.” Sam gave Johnny his chicken. Be careful this time.” 	“Sure will, Sam, I’ve learned my lesson.” 	As Johnny made his way back to his canoe, he wondered if he really had learned his lesson. 	The chicken will eat the chicken feed if I leave them together, he thought. Bear Dog might eat the chicken if I leave them together. I can only take one thing at a time with me in my canoe. 	“I think I will have to sit and think for a while.” 	After a while, Johnny jumped up and said, “I have a plan!” When Johnny had finished crossing the river for the seventh time, he picked up the bag of feed under one arm, his chicken under the other arm, and then he and Bear Dog walked to their cabin. 	“Mom, I’m home,” Johnny shouted when he walked in. 	 “What took so long?” Johnny’s mother asked. “Did you have trouble crossing the river?”  	“No, Mom. I’m getting good at crossing that river,” Johnny said. 	“Good,” Johnny’s mother said. “I may let you and Bear Dog go and get some more feed and another chicken tomorrow. Then we’ll be sure to have plenty of eggs.”   Can you think of how Johnny got everything across the river?  Johnny’s Plan – The solution:   “First, I will take the chicken to the wooded side and leave it.” (Crossing # 1) 	 “Next, I’ll come back to get Bear Dog.” (Crossing # 2)  “I’ll take him to the wooded side and leave him.” (Crossing #3)  “Next, I’ll bring the chicken back to the rocky side and leave him.” (Crossing #4)  “Then I’ll take the chicken feed to the wooded side and leave it with Bear Dog.” (Crossing #5) “He will not eat the chicken feed.” 	“I’ll come back and get the chicken.” (Crossing #6)  “Finally, I’ll take the chicken back across to the wooded side.” (Crossing #7) “Then we will all be on the wooded side of the river!”"/>
  <analyzerdata id="163" name="this is the tree					  th" trainedclass="positive" entry="This is The Tree					  This is the tree that holds a nest. This is the mother that never rests.  These are the eggs, a blue-tiful batch, that crickety-crack as little chicks hatch.  These are the chicks all covered with fluff peep-peeping for food. Mother can’t bring enough!    These are fledglings, bigger and stronger that can’t fit inside their small nest any longer.   These are the wings that flap-flap to the sky. Off go the chicks. Fly high! Good-bye!  This is the tree with an empty nest. And this is the mother who can finally rest!"/>
  <analyzerdata id="164" name="winter birds  thistle see" trainedclass="positive" entry="Winter Birds  Thistle seeds and suet fill our Feeders to the brim.  Nesting boxes snuggle in a Crooked cedar limb.  Patiently we wait for birds to  Eat their treats at dawn.  Cardinals and jays perk up our Frozen winter lawn.  “Did the goldfinch leave our trees and Fly to warmer towns?”  “They’re still here. They changed their coats from Gold to winter browns.” "/>
</analyzerdatas>