Infer fig Lang

“Witch Paddles” in Colorado

“Every October, hundreds of witches appear on bodies of water
across the United States, floating on lakes and bays, ponds and
harbors. Instead of brooms, they glide on stand-up paddle boards.
And while these events are known as “witch paddles” and
number in the dozens, the participants are not on the water to
menace. Some of the witches are paddling for charities, and some
are just having fun.”

Open Ended

What's going on in this picture?

Khan Younis, Gaza, Feb. 9

Shaymaa Shady, 5, left, and Sarah Yusuf, 5, center, were among a group of 16 young people airlifted to hospitals in Italy after suffering grievous injuries in the course of [the war between Israel and Hamas].

(Educated guess)

What can you infer?

The old dog lifted his head as the front door opened. His tail
thumped weakly against the floor, but he didn't have the energy to
stand. Soft footsteps approached, and a gentle hand stroked his fur.
He heard a quiet sniffle above him as the hand continued its
soothing motion.

What can you infer?

Lily's stomach growled as she stared at her friend's lunch. She had forgotten her own at home and didn't have any money to buy food. Her friend noticed Lily's gaze and wordlessly broke her sandwich in half, offering a portion to Lily with a smile.

My School

In my school, the walls hold stories,
Where learning blooms like morning glories.
Books are treasures, full of dreams,
Opening worlds, or so it seems.

Pencils tap a steady beat,
As silence gently takes retreat.
Math is a challenge we face each day,
Solving problems from here to Zimbabwe!

History's lessons are like time machines,
Taking us back to kings and queens.
Colorful crayons create cool art,
Bringing ideas straight from the heart.

Science experiments show us how,
The world works, here and now.
My school's a place where dreams take flight,
With every lesson, we grow more bright!

In my school, the walls hold stories,
Where learning blooms like morning glories.
Books are treasures, full of dreams,
Opening worlds, or so it seems.

Pencils tap a steady beat,
As silence gently takes retreat.
Math is a challenge we face each day,
Solving problems from here to zimbabwe.

History's lessons are like time machines,
Taking us back to kings and queens.
Colorful crayons create cool art,
Bringing ideas straight from the heart.

Science experiments show us how,
The world works, here and now.
My school's a place where dreams take flight,
With every lesson, we grow more bright!

My School

The
Social
Media
Star

My phone's a stage, the world's my crowd,
Each post a performance, my voice out loud.
“Likes” rain like confetti, comments bloom,
In this digital garden, there's always room.

Filters paint my world in rainbow hues,
Reality blurs with each swipe and views.
My followers grow like spring flowers,
Their attention fuels my online powers.

But behind the screen, doubts creep in,
Is this real life or just a virtual spin?
The pressure to post, to always shine,
Sometimes feels like a thin, fragile line.

I pause before sharing, take a deep breath,
Is there more to me than this online test?
The real world calls beyond the glow,
A reminder of what's true, what I know.

Open Ended

After reading "The Social Media Star," what can you infer about the narrator and WHY?

I can infer that the narrator . . .
I know this because . . .