Point of View – Extra Practice

I, me, my . . .

We know ONLY 1 character’sthoughts and feelings

We know MORE than 1character’s thoughts andfeelings

1st Person

3rd Person Limited

3rd Person Omniscient

It all began when Mrs. Frizzle showed our class a film strip

about the human body. We knew

trouble was about to start, because we

knew Mrs. Frizzle was the strangest teacher

in the school.

They spoke no more until camp was made. Henry was bending over and

adding ice to the bubbling pot of beans when he was startled by the sound of a

sharp snarling cry of pain from among the sled dogs. Henry saw the circle of eyes that burned in the darkness just beyond the firelight, and he knew he would have

to act quickly.

Harold took a deep breath and slowly started to peel the gauze from the wound

on his grandmother’s leg. He knew she was in great pain, so he worked as gently

as he possibly could. His grandmother gasped, but held back a cry because she

knew Harold was doing the best any twelve-year-old boy could, and besides,

he was the only one left to help her.

Leslie sat in front of Paul. She had two long pigtails that reached all the way down to her waist. Paul saw those pigtails, and a

terrible urge came over him. He wanted to pull a pigtail. He wanted to wrap his fist

around it, feel the hair between his fingers, and just yank. He thought it

would be fun to tie the pigtails together, or better yet, tie them to her chair. But most of all, he just wanted to pull one.

There’s so much more for me to be doing. I should be a success and I’m not and other people—younger people—are. Younger people than me are on TV and getting paid and winning scholarships and getting their lives in order. I’m still a nobody. When am I going to not be a nobody?

It is true. Despereaux’s eyes should not have been open. But they

were. He was staring at the sun reflecting off his

mother’s mirror. The light was shining onto

the ceiling in an oval of brilliance, and he was

pleased at the sight.

As the girl walked up the hill, she realized that the atmosphere was just too quiet. The cardinal tipped his head back and drew breath to sing, but just as the first note passed his beak he heard the crack of a dead branch far below his perch high in the maple tree. Startled, he looked down, cocking his head to one side and watching with great interest while the man below tried to hide himself behind the tree.

As he turned to take the ball, a dam burst against the side of his head and a hand grenade shattered his stomach. Engulfed by nausea, he pitched toward the grass. His mouth encountered gravel, and he spat frantically, afraid that some of his teeth had been knocked out.

Matt had to talk to someone. He had to do something to keep from howling like a dog at the horror of it all. He wasn’t a clone! He couldn’t be! Somehow, somewhere a mistake had been made. Words he’d overheard from the doctor came back to him: Clones go to pieces when they get older. Was that going to happen to him?