<h3>My child and I hold hands on the way to school,</h3><h3>And when I leave him at the first-grade door</h3><h3>He cries a little but is brave; he does</h3><h3>Let go. My selfish tears remind me how</h3><h3>I cried before that door a life ago.</h3><h3>I may have had a hard time letting go.</h3>
<h3>Each fall the children must endure together</h3>
<h3>What every child also endures alone:</h3><h3>Learning the alphabet, the integers,</h3><h3>Three dozen bits and pieces of a stuff</h3><h3>So arbitrary, so peremptory,</h3><h3>That worlds invisible and visible</h3>
Answer:
Sandburg's use of literary techniques such as onomatopoeia, alliteration, repetition, and nonsense words makes the story playful and cheerful.
"The gold key is a pretty horrific symbol of the lengths the government will go to in order to brainwash children into enlisting in the military. They tell them that this key will get them into heaven if they die at war. This harkens back to ancient religious wars, like the Crusades, where dying a martyr was the best possible thing a boy could do. Although, in reality, all it means is that they died as pawns of the government.
This key is an especially repulsive symbol because it holds absolutely no intrinsic value—it's "a plastic key painted gold" (13.34). The Iranian military couldn't even give kids something of value to lure them into war, something they might be able to melt down for money. Of course, what value does money have to a martyr? You can't spend it when you're in the theoretical halls of heaven, with more virgins for the taking than you know what to do with."
Answer:
The answer is C!!
Explanation:
I know because I just took the test
