Working in his yard has taken on a whole new meaning for me. As I stood amidst the vibrant roses—some nearly as old as Mr. Jenkins himself—I couldn’t help but admire their beauty. “You see that bush?” he pointed, a smile breaking through the shadows of his sadness. “Stella planted that one on our anniversary. She loved pink roses—you know, like the ones in her bouquet.” His eyes twinkled with the memory, but I could also see the weight of loss behind them. Slowly, he shuffled over to the oak tree—its branches sprawling, as if reaching for the sky. “That was planted when our first child was born. We thought it would grow as he did,” Mr. Jenkins reminisced, a hint of both pride and melancholy in his voice. As he spoke, I listened intently, captivated by his stories of love and life intertwined with each plant. With every snip of my shears and every laugh shared, I realized that I wasn’t just helping him; I was becoming a part of his memory. The yard, once just a task, evolved into a tapestry of stories, and in that vibrant garden, I found not just Mr. Jenkins’s past but a blossoming friendship that bridged the generations.
Aidan is writing a nonfiction narrative. Read the draft of his introduction and his notes, and then complete the task that follows.
You Never Know
I wasn’t so sure when I knocked on the door. If I was being honest, my grandmother’s neighbor made me nervous. I waited a few seconds and was about to bolt when the door scraped opened.
“Ah, I, you’re here,” the shaky old voice said. The voice was attached to Mr. Jenkins, the most ancient person I knew, who had lived in the neighborhood since well before my parents had even met.
“Uh, hi, my dad said you needed some help in the yard,” I said.
“Yes, yes, indeed. My knees aren’t what they used to be—not much good for gardening any more. Won’t you come in?” Mr. Jenkins asked. Mr. Jenkins proceeded to explain to me where I could find everything I needed and exactly what my assignment was. That day, it was just mowing the lawn, but next time I could work on the flowers and bushes. I didn’t hesitate to get to work and was finished within an hour.
I rapped on the door to tell Mr. Jenkins I was leaving. “Thank you. See you on Wednesday,” waved Mr. Jenkins.
When Wednesday came, I dutifully showed up at the appointed time and Mr. Jenkins slowly shuffled out into the yard with me.
I was hoping to finish the trimming and be done. After I got to talking with Mr. Jenkins, I found it hard to tear myself away.
Aidan made these notes about his nonfiction narrative.
Mr. Jenkins has rose bushes over 50 years old—planted by late wife, Stella.
Oak tree in the backyard—planted when first child was born.
Mr. Jenkins:
Depressed that he can no longer work in his yard like he once did.
Has story for nearly every plant he has planted.
Working in his yard has taken on a whole new meaning for me.
Constructed Response Question
Drawing on details from Aidan’s notes, write the rest of the paragraph that begins with the underlined sentence and conclude the nonfiction narrative. In your paragraph, use narrative techniques such as dialogue and descriptive words to further develop the characters and events. Use transition words to show the sequence of events.
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