Pauwau is an Algonquin word that once referred to medicine (1) men, who danced, during tribal ceremonies. However, Europeans (2) whom witnessed these ceremonies for the first time thought the word referred to the whole event and (3) began calling the events “powwows,” the term now used by most American Indians. These early ceremonies were (4) held, by individual tribes to cure disease or to (5) ensure success in battle or hunting. At modern-day powwows, people gather to dance, sing, socialize, and witness ceremonies honoring the achievements of individuals or groups. At most modern powwows, the main focus is dance. Attendees can (6) be apart of the competitive dances or the open social dances called intertribals.

The participants (7) danced to the music of drums. Each group of people who sit around a large skin (8) drum, singing and playing the drum in unison, is known as a “Drum.” These Drums provide the music for (9) each powwow activities. While smaller powwows may host only one Drum, (10) larger powwows (which can last for days) usually involve several Drums. Many American Indians mark important events of their lives at powwows. At a recent powwow at Stanford University, one family paid tribute to their son, who was soon to graduate from law school. A special dance was announced, and the crowd grew quiet. The young man’s father stepped up to the microphone and began describing his son’s many achievements. When he was finished, a Drum began to sing and play. Some of the young man’s family members began to dance in a circle.(11) Before that, people came from out of the crowd to shake hands with the young man and dance with his family. In this way, his achievements were honored by the entire community.

Today, American Indians attend powwows (12) due to the fact that they want to celebrate their culture as well as the achievements of their family members. Powwows provide (13) and afford a chance to mark important transitions, to visit with old friends and meet new ones, (14) dance and singing take place, and to celebrate the future as well as the past.

Careful of where he steps, carrying tweezers, (16) vials notebooks and pencils, Edward O. Wilson has looked over, under, and into the world of ants. He (17) has discovered that the influence of ants’ behavior on their success as a species is as great as their number is vast. By (18) thinking about and contemplating ants, which are among the planet’s smaller creatures, Wilson has arrived at significant conclusions about their social organization and survival.

[1] Wilson studies patterns of organization and behavior in whole ant colonies. (19) [2] Because ants resume normal behavior quickly, ant colonies are easy to maintain and study in a laboratory. [3] By observing ants in a few colonies in the field and in the lab, Wilson can describe an entire species.

 [4] He designs his studies with two questions in (20) the notebooks of his mind. [5] First, how do colony members differentiate and divide labor? [6] And second, why (21) has some combinations of these divisions of labor more successful than others? [7] Wilson has found that worker ants are at the center of a (22) colonies success. [8] They integrate the colony and provide labor specialization. [9] Some worker ants dedicate their lives to feeding the colony, foraging for and retrieving fifteen to twenty times their weight in food daily. (23) [10] Additionally, (24) some foraging ants work in pairs. [11] In another example of individual sacrifice for colony welfare, worker ants that specialize as guards (25) devoting their lives to the protection of the colony’s territorial boundaries. (26)

Wilson (27) identifies this selfless behavior among worker ants as altruism. Dedication to the benefit of the colony (28) is, in his view the single most important feature of ant social behavior. In his observations, Wilson has seen ants alter colony populations by adjusting their foraging and feeding patterns, exemplifying their zeal to survive. Ant societies can be fragmented and divided, (29) Wilson has discovered, but their devotion to their queen and colony ensures that (30) ants are cool.

[1]

Much has been written about the Japanese tea ceremony and its sophisticated ritual. It is very beautiful, though unavailable to most people in the United States. Equally inaccessible (31) are the British afternoon tea in the company of friends, with its bone china, cucumber sandwiches, and outstretched pinkies. What I (32) found utterly (33) pleasurable though, is my solitary microwave tea.

[2]

 It is this ritual tea that has taught me to take pleasure in the familiar. Often in the past, I would find myself waiting for the big event, the grand finale that would solve all my problems and make everything perfect. In time I have come to learn that there are no fairy-tale endings: I must find joy in the things I do every day. And my three-part ritual evening tea is special because of that.                                                     

                                                                                            [3]

 I reach for my mug and choose the tea—will it be a Darjeeling or the special-occasion jasmine? I slowly (34) poured the water over the teabag, set the mug in the microwave, and punch the familiar sequence, wait for the start of the hum, and watch the carousel turn—these are all part of that magic ceremony. Next comes the two minutes of (35) absolute freedom, time in which I can do anything I want: listen to a bit of news on the radio, D wash the cereal bowl from breakfast, or just lean back against the counter, close my eyes, and take a few deep breaths. (37)

(38) Therefore, the ding of the microwave (39) announcing the end of the first part of the ritual and the beginning of the next. I pull out the teabag, wring out the last few drops, toss it into the wastebasket with a wet thwop, spoon in the sugar, stir in the milk, in the rehearsed motions of a familiar choreography. (40) Finally, satisfied with the bright orange-brown color that the well-made cup of tea must have, I (41) took the mug to my couch and set it down on a marble coaster.

[5]

Now I am ready for the (42) third and best part of my ritual: sipping the tea (43) while I reflect on whatever takes my fancy. It is the (44) best and most perfect way to end my day. 

Rita Dove’s poems are sometimes described as intimate. They are (46) identified as such because they focus on people involved in the pure and simple act of being human. An African American writer, Dove tackles (47) stuff that crosses and undermines racial boundaries. Her vision includes ordinary people from diverse walks of life as she explores the depth of their reactions to the (48) world. An example of this perception is her poetry collection Thomas and Beulah, for which she won a Pulitzer Prize in 1987.

Seventy-nine pages long, Thomas and Beulah is loosely based on the lives of Dove’s maternal grandparents. (49) Their story is neither tragic nor dramatic, but it does portray people (50) who Dove states have been “ignored and lost.” Although the characters, Thomas and Beulah, live together for (51) decades; the poems reveal lives that rarely link. (52) 

Divided into two sections, (53) consisting of twenty-three and twenty-one poems, respectively, the volume opens with an explanation from Dove that the poems “tell two sides of a story and are meant to be read in sequence.” In telling this story, (54) the skillful revelation of lives are disjoined by a lack of understanding or shared perspectives. (55) For example, while Beulah is pregnant with their third daughter, Thomas plans what he will teach a son. Although Thomas certainly loves his daughters, his longing for a son whom he can teach to be a man, according to his conception of what it means to be a man, is evident. Beulah’s life, (56) on the other hand, is centered around her daughters.

Dove conveys the sadness in Thomas and Beulah’s relationship, but she helps (57) ourselves to accept their marital differences by depicting the grace and goodness of their individual lives. In Thomas and Beulah, Dove demonstrates her ability to highlight the vitality and insight that reside in her otherwise unremarkable characters. At (58) it’s heart, Thomas and Beulah offers us a (59) testament to the human spirit.

I never met a true gardener who (61) won’t break into philosophical rapture when the (62) topic of conversation was compost. To avid gardeners, the compost pile—a heap of decomposing kitchen scraps and yard waste—is at once the most profound and practical of beasts.

A compost pile may look like just a mound of decaying muck—apple cores, coffee grounds, and grass clippings, for example— but (63) they are host to a community of living things. Indeed, it teems with microscopic beings whose business it is to eat and excrete. By (64) doing things to a variety of dead organic matter, these microbes supply the nutrients plants need to grow.

(65) In as little as four to six weeks, the omnivorous microbes recycle kitchen waste into a rich, black, crumbly soil. When finished compost, or humus, (66) are raked into garden (67) beds flowers and vegetables are almost guaranteed to be healthy and productive. Besides providing nutrients,(68) humus, while acting like a sponge, (69) retaining water and giving plant roots access to air.

Thus, composting completes the cycle of (70) life: new life grows out of the broken-down elements of the old. That is why gardeners love compost. Of course, the compost pile also helps them hide their mistakes. (71)

Gardeners also enjoy the (72) hidden, unseen complexity of compost. Some people rake their leaves to the curb and are happy when the truck hauls them away, while composters use their leaves and their ingenuity. Compost needs a balanced diet of leaves and other “fresh” ingredients. But other conditions must be carefully balanced as well for the microbes to perform their best.

 Is the compost too wet? Too dry? Does it need to be turned? (73)  Only experience and experimentation can tell for sure. If it’s not decomposing properly, a compost pile (74) can literally stink. That’s just one reason why some gardeners treat this voracious beast as attentively as a pet. When I feed mine potato peels, I can almost hear it purr.