2023 Compassvale 4NA Prelim P2 Insert vetted

康　柏　中　学COMPASSVALESECONDARYSCHOOL2023PRELIMINARYEXAMINATIONENGLISHLANGUAGEPAPER2[1190/02]SECONDARYFOURNORMAL(ACADEMIC)INSERT Name:_______________________ Duration: 1hour50minutes IndexNo:____________________ Date: 24July2023 Class:_______________________ INSTRUCTIONSTOCANDIDATES ThisInsertcontainsText1,Text2,Text3andText4. ThisInsertconsistsof 6printedpagesincludingthispage. Setter:MrTanHH&MrRichmondWang

SectionAText 1 Studytheposter(Text 1)andtheextractfromablog(Text 2)andanswerQuestions1–4intheQuestionPaper. Text 1istakenfromawebsite. Text 2istakenfromablogwhichcommentsonconservationandsustainability. In a world where overfishing takes place, perhaps it is time to seriously consider beingvegetarian. Beingvegetarianinvolvesusnot consuminganyformof meat, includingfish.By doing so, we allowthe fish population to increaseonceagain. Apart fromfish, beingvegetarian is advantageous for our environment too. Livestock, such as cows, producegreenhouse gases that contribute to global warming. On the other hand, manyplant-based foods such assoyarecapableof providinguswiththeproteinthat wehavetypicallyreliedonmeat for. If weall doourpart,wecandefinitelyprotectourenvironmentnotonlyforus,butalsoforourfuturegenerations.Let’sactquicklywhilewestill can. _________________________________________________________________________ 1 AMalaydishofricecookedincoconutmilk,servedwithsides2 AstyleofporridgeassociatedwiththeChinesedialectgroup 2

SectionBText 3Thetextbelowisastoryaboutthewriter’sexperiencewithlearningEnglishafterimmigratingtotheUnitedStatesofAmerica. ReadthetextcarefullyandanswerQuestions5–15intheQuestionPaper. 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 Reading and writing, like any other crafts, come to the mind slowly, in pieces. But for me, as anEnglish-as-Second-Language (ESL) student fromafamily of illiteratericefarmers for whombooks arelittle more precious than firewood, theexperienceof workingthroughabook, evenasimpleone, wasakin to standing in quicksand, while your loved ones stood alongits safeedges inbewilderment andsuspicionastheywatchedyousink. My family immigratedtotheUnitedStatesfromVietnamin1990,whenIwastwo.Welived,all sevenofus, in a one-bedroomapartment in Hartford, Connecticut, and I spent my first five years in AmericasurroundedandinundatedbytheVietnameselanguage.WhenIenteredkindergarten,Iwas,inasense,immigrating all over again. Likeany Americanchild, I quickly learnedmy ABCs, thanks totheage-oldmelody (oneIstill singrapidlytomyselfwhenIforgetwhether‘M’ comesbefore‘N’).Withinafewyears,Ihadbecomefluent—butonlyinspeech,notinthewrittenword. One early-spring afternoon, whenI was infourthgrade, wegot anassignment inlanguagearts class:we had two weeks to write a poem in honour of National Poetry Month. Normally, my poor writingabilities would excuse me from such assignments, and I would instead spend the class mindlesslycopyingout passages frombooks I’dretrievedfromablueplastic binatthebackoftheroom.Thetaskallowed me to camouflage myself; as long as I looked as though I were doing something smart, myshameandfailurewerehidden.ThetroublebeganwhenIdecidedtobedangerouslyambitious. ‘Whereis it?’ theteacher asked. Heheldmy poemuptothefluorescentclassroomlightsandsquinted,the way one might examine counterfeit money. I couldtell, by theslowly brighteningroom, that it hadstartedtosnow. I pointedtomyworkdanglingfromhisfingers.‘No,whereisthepoemyouplagiarised?How did you even write something like this?’ Then he tipped my desk toward me. The desk had acompartment attached to its underside, andI watchedas thecontents spilledfromthecompartment'smouth: rectangular pink erasers,crayons,yellowpencils,wrinkledworksheetswheredottedletterswerefilledin, andalimelollipop. But nopoem. I stoodbeforetherubbleatmyfeet.Theotherboysandgirlsstared, their blank faces illustratedwithskepticism. Thosefurther away cranedtheir necks for abetterview,gleedancingintheireyesinwaitforthebrewingstorm. Weeks earlier, I’d been in the library as usual. It was where I would seek refuge during recess.Otherwise, becauseof myslightframeandsoftvoice,theboyswouldcall me‘pansy’ and‘fairy’ andpullmy shorts aroundmyanklesinthemiddleoftheschoolyard.ThereI’dbeinthecompanyofgreatmindsof past and present. I sat on the floor beside a tape player. Froma box of cassettes, I chose onelabelled ‘Great American Speeches’. I picked it because of the illustration, a microphone against abackdrop of the American flag. I picked it because the American flag was one of the few symbols Irecognised. Throughtheheadset, arobust malevoicesurgedforth, emptyingintomy body. Theman’s changes inpitch,toneandrhythmmademethinkofwavesonasea.Betweenhissentences,acrowd—Iimaginedthousands —roaredandapplauded. I imaginedtheir heads shiftinginanendless flow. Hisvoicemustpossess thepower of amoontuggingtheaudiencelikethetides,Ithought.‘Ihaveadream,’ Imouthedtomyself deliberately as thespeaker–adoctor–spoke.ItoccurredtomethatIhadbeenmouthingmygrandmother’s stories as well, theones shehadbeentellingmeever sinceI was born. Of course,notbeingabletoreaddoesnotmeanthatoneisemptyofstories. My poemwas called‘If aBoy CouldDream’. Thephrases ‘promisedland’ and‘mountaintop’ soundedgolden to me, and I sawaradiant yellowish-orangefieldburstingwithflowers, andenvisionedaclearmorning sky in spring when the sun was about to rise. So my poem was a sort of a song aboutspringtime. Fromthe unremarkable gardening shows my grandmother watched, I’dlearnedthewordsfor flowers I hadnever seeninperson: magnolia, daisy, lily, buttercup. ‘If aboy coulddreamof goldenfields,full oflilacs,tulips,marigolds…’ 5 10 15 20 25 30 35 40 45 3

8 9 I knew words like ‘if’ and ‘boy’, but others I had to look up. I sounded out the words in my head, adictionary inmy lap, andsearchedtheletters painstakingly. After afewdaysoftirelesseffort,thepoemappearedasgraygraphitewords,thepaperawhiteflag.Ihadsurrendered. Eversince,Ihavebeencarefullychoosingtherightwordstosingtoyouthestoriesinmylifewith. Adaptedfrom“ImmigratingintoEnglish”byOceanVuyong 50 55 4

SectionCText 4 The text below talks about the state of the Tubbataha Reef in the Philippines and somechallengesfacedinpreservingit. ReadthetextcarefullyandanswerQuestions16–21intheQuestionPaper. 1 2 3 4 5 6 As corals worldwide find themselves damaged, Tubbataha Reef remains shockinglypristine. Why?In1981, AngeliqueSongco, thenanemployeeofadiveboat,foundherselfmarvelling at the reefs before her. But over the next fewyears, she sawthe shadowofhumanscreepoverthewatersoftheSuluSea. Fishermenfromasfar awayastheprovinceof Quezon, some370milesdistant,filedintoTubbataha Reef, one of the world’s most biodiverse—for their livelihoods’ sake. Theresults were devastating. Dynamite killed fish where they swam; cyanide squirted overcoralsstunnedfishintosubmission. Onthereef’sislets, fishermengatheredseabirdsandtheireggs. ‘Without even understanding the ecological value of the marine environment, I wasconvinced that such beauty must be protected,’ Songco told the World Wildlife Fund in2015. In2001, Songcoappliedtobeparkmanager of Tubbataha, designatedaprotectedareain1988. Ever since, shehasdevotedher lifetoprotectingthereef. Her effortshavepaid off. In all, some 600 species of fish and360coral species—about half of all knownspecies—call Tubbatahahome. Thepark’sisletsalsohost thelast seabirdrookery 1 inthePhilippines,providingrefugeto100speciesofbirds. How has Tubbataha avoided the fate of overfished reefs nearby? In part, its isolation.Tubbatahasitsnear thecenteroftheSuluSea,morethan90milesawayfromthenearestinhabited islands. In 1988, President Corazon Aquino designated Tubbataha a nationalmarinepark—thefirst inthePhilippines’ history. Fiveyearslater,UNESCO 2 inscribeditasaWorldHeritageSite. Declarations made in Manila or Paris, though, mean little unless they holdweight inthemiddle of the Sulu Sea. That’s where Songco comes in. For the last 16 years, she hasworked to buildpublicsupport for thereef throughthemediaandinitiatedmanypetitionstoprotect thereef.Shealsohasth