I am a junior now and actually have to study for the SAT so I am doing this to help me remember the meanings. In English class our vocab book is called "601 Words you need to know to pass your exam" and I am going to go back and do the other chapters but this is one of the two that I have a test on tomorrow.
See if you can spot the words in the story!
TIME ON OUR HANDS
anachronism - anything that is out of place in time
anon - soon; shortly
antebellum - before the war; especially before the Civil War
antediluvian - old fashioned; before the flood
atavism - reversion to a primitive type; resemblance to a remote ancestor
augury - the art of prophecy; an omen.
biennial - happening every two years
chronology - arrangement of events in time; determination of dates
diurnal - daily; of the daytime
eon - long, indefinite period of time; thousand years.
ephemeral - short-lived; transitory
epoch- noteworthy period.
generation - the period of time between the birth of one group and that of its offspring.
score - twenty people or objects; twenty years.
tercentenary - a period of 300 years.
I rub my hands together as I walk down the street. It's getting closer to winter and the leaves are beginning to change in the city. I pass by a telephone booth and wonder why that anachronism is still available to use. I make my way to the subway terminal, desperate to make it to school on time. I am helping my friend, Clarissa, plan this biennial event at her dad's work and I promised I would talk to her about it before class starts.
I head into the subway terminal and get swept away in the diurnal shuffle. I get pushed and shoved around as I step into the train. It's the morning rush hour and scores of business men and women are in a hurry to make it to their jobs on time. I sigh in relief as I find a seat and settle down, pulling my backpack into my lap. The lights begin to flicker and I try to convince myself that it is not an augury. My relief is apparently ephemeral because soon enough an elder lady walks in. With no other seats available I hop out of mine and gesture for her to take it. She smiles warmly at me and accepts the seat.
"Thank you, my dear," Her voice is soft and I have to strain my ears to catch the next sentence, "And people say your generation is lacking in manners."
"Manners were something my father drilled into my head eons okay, as well as respect for my elders," I reply and lean onto the pole meant to aid people standing.
"Where are you going at this hour, hon?" The aged women asks.
"To school, I go to Walden Academy," I gesture to my antediluvian uniform. My mom is convinced I look absolutely atavistic in this uniform. I see no resemblance to the dusty old pictures she compares me to. The old woman takes in my uniform and smiles.
"I went to Walden years ago! It was certainly the epoch of my childhood," She grins widely. I glance at her eyes and see that she is lost in a memory. With memories, chronology doesn't matter; anything that comes to mind on the topic comes flooding back. I imagine the stories that she could possibly have about Walden years ago. In the antebellum North, Walden was an all boys school. Around a hundred years ago it opened its doors to girls as well. I debate whether or not I should break her trance. She seems so happy.
"Walden academy is celebrating it's tercentenary anniversary in two weeks," I say reluctantly and she smiles as she takes in the information, "There is going to be a big celebration and alumni are encouraged to attend and see what has become of the school."
"Oh, that would be absolutely wonderful! Do you know what day and what time?" she asks.
"Oh yes, sorry, it is going to be next Friday the twenty-third at seven o'clock," I inform her.
"Thank you," she smiles warmly again and all my agitations and stress about the school day slip away. The doors open and I am surprised to see it is my stop.
"I have to go, it was a pleasure meeting you," I pick up my backpack from the filthy ground and turn to wave good-bye.
"I look forward to seeing you again," She waves good-bye as I bounce out of the train. My feet automatically make their way towards the school while I ponder the encounter with the small woman. As I step onto the campus I pass the Shakespeare club who are sprouting random quotes laden with "anons" and "thous" and "thys". I ignore them and quickly make my way to the apple tree where I promised I would meet Clarissa. As I take in the tree, I wonder what size it was when the old woman came here.
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