MRI Set 1 Book 9 inspection copy. - Piper Books BRI

Adaptation by Emily Carter.
‘Why Spiders Lurk in Corners’ based on the
Nigerian folk tale ‘The Rubber Man’.
Introduction of:
Grapheme ‘or’ sound /er/ (word, work, world…)
Mature Reading Instruction Set 1 Book 9
Spider!

Instruction
The only prompting required is ‘Say the sounds
and read the word’. When help is needed, do
nothing more than say: ‘The sound here is ’
Insist on accurate reading at all times: each
person differs but each must learn to handle the
same Alphabetic Code.
Don’t allow guessing – it is a very difficult habit
to eradicate.
Avoid explanations, hints, and other ‘help’.
Ensure that attention is paid to ‘reading through
the word’ – in particular with word endings.
Encourage rereading of earlier books. This will
increase confidence.
Use the stories to develop vocabulary and
communication after the reading.
Why Spiders Lurk
in Corners
•
Spider didn’t like hard work. In fact, Spider didn’t
like work at all. All he wanted was to put all his
legs up. Not that he’d confess to this, when all the
living things within ten miles – men, oxen, cows,
pigs, dogs, kids, spider-pals and all – slaved away
on the farms from sun-up to sunset. They didn’t
seem a bit upset about all these jobs they had to
do. Yet whenever Spider had to slave away at this
shocking ‘work’ stuff he just wanted to express his
feelings by rolling around on the ground having a
big tantrum.
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It was spring and time to plant the crops. All the
workers slogged away harder than ever on small
plots of land. They pulled up weeds, dug up the
ground, and planted seeds.
All but Spider. He lay abed until midday. Then he
rose to stuff his face before creeping to the shade
of the trees. First he’d nap, then he’d gulp down a
tot of rum. Now and then he’d roll onto his back
and wave some legs at the sky, just for fun.
* * * * *
Spider had a wife, a sweet but ill-fated spider
cowed by having a worthless husband who put her
down all the time. Weeks and weeks of Spider’s
slack and sluggish ways passed before she had the
guts to drop the odd hint. Maybe he’d like to do
a bit of digging and weeding and planting on the
farm?
‘Oh, there is still lots of time for all that!’ said
feckless Spider, dismissing her words with a wave
of his legs.
‘Perhaps I can help you with the digging?’ Spider’s
wife said in the meekest manner, after a day or
three had passed without Spider doing a jot of
work.
‘Nag, nag, nag!’ snapped Spider. But by now all
the workers were peering at him in the oddest
way. So the next day he puffed himself up, waved
around his spade, and yelled, ‘Woman! As I am
weeding later, you be off to market to get a big
bag of ground-nuts. Shell them and bake them
and spice them for me to plant!’
‘But – but –’ said his wife. ‘I don’t get it! Groundnuts
are baked and spiced when we dine on them,
not when we plant them!’
‘Tush, tush, woman!’ snapped Spider. ‘Not so!
Planting baked, spiced ground-nuts will give us a
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ig fresh crop that is ripe for dining on!’
‘Oh, how smart you are!’ said Spider’s optimistic
wife, clapping all her legs in glee before dashing
off to market.
And at dusk Spider returned to the hut, and
went on and on about how hard he’d slogged
on the farm. He licked his lips as his wife
shelled and baked and spiced the big pile of
ground-nuts.
* * * * *
When the sun rose the next day, Spider jumped
out of bed. He grabbed the sack of baked, spiced
nuts and set off for his farm. There he sat down,
put his legs up… and tucked into the groundnuts,
washing the last of them down with swigs of
rum.
‘Yum, yum! What bliss!’ murmured Spider to
himself. He patted his full gut, and dropped off to
sleep. When sunset came, back he went to his hut.
‘Heck! Speck!’ he said to his wife on his return.
‘I’m worn out! We workmen have the hardest of
lives! I have been slaving away all day on the farm,
and you, why, YOU had not a thing to do but get
the dinner!’
‘Yes, yes, I am indeed blessed, and here is dinner,’
said his meek wife, worn down by living with
Spider for so long.
And that was the way it went for weeks and weeks,
for all spring and all summer: Spider rising with
the sun, saying farewell to his wife and strolling to
the farm to laze around.
But at last the day came when all the farm workers
started harvesting crops.
‘What of the spiced ground-nuts?’ asked Spider’s
4 5

hopeful wife. ‘When will you harvest them?’
‘Ground-nuts take longer,’ said Spider, sure that
his wife was so innocent she’d not spot a fib if it
bit her on the nose.
* * * * *
But the days went by… and the weeks went
by… and even Spider’s innocent wife started
hinting that she’d love to help him bring in the
harvest.
‘No wife of mine works on a farm!’ snorted
Spider. But he had a bad feeling that time was
running out and he was in a fix. At last it struck
him: there was nothing for it but to nick the nuts
he needed!
So when dark fell, and his wife was sound asleep,
Spider padded out of the hut and made his way to
the farm of the local bigwig; the boss; the top dog.
And there Spider dug and dug, until his sack was
filled. He went back home as smug as a bug in a
rug.
The next day Spider spent napping. When dusk
fell he waved the bag of nuts in his wife’s face and
said how hard he’d slogged and slaved to dig them
up from the hard ground. Dancing on all her legs,
Spider’s wife cracked open a nut… and then her
face fell.
‘But these nuts are not baked or spiced!’ she said,
shocked. ‘You had me thinking –’
‘What in the world are you blathering about?’
demanded Spider. ‘You nitwit, we spiced the nuts
to keep the ants from gobbling them down in the
ground! Have you forgotten my words so fast?’
‘Um… I see,’ said the long-suffering woman.
‘How careless of me to forget those words of
wisdom!’
6 7

* * * * *
And for days, Spider went back to the big farm,
where he harvested piles of nuts, and returned
home grinning in glee.
But the loss of so many ground-nuts was spotted
before long. And Anan – the man who ran the
farm for the top dog – was smart and cunning…
and intent on grabbing this robber, this bandit,
who dared to take what was not his.
So off Anan went into the bush to find himself a
rubber-tree. He made long slashes in its bark,
so that the sap of the tree seeped… and dripped…
and bled… down the tree-trunk into the pot
Anan had placed at its base.
When he had a pot full of brown rubber, Anan
trotted off to find the next rubber-tree. At long
last, he had six big pots of rubber. The next
morning he formed the rubber into the shape
of a man and placed it on the boss’s land.
‘At last! The vile bandit will be mine, all mine!’
Anan said to himself, grinning and rubbing his
hands with glee.
* * * * *
Dusk fell, and, as the farmers dropped off to sleep,
worn out by never-ending work, Spider padded
out of his hut to get his legs on yet more grub.
But this time, as he was about to dig, he spotted a
man in the darkness! Just there!!
‘Eek!’ Spider yelped, in panic. ‘Who are you? What
are you doing here?’
But the man said not a word.
‘Name?!’ snapped Spider, the panic starting to fade
as he became full of anger at this rudeness.
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A third time Spider demanded a name. Then –
slap! – he struck the still, mute form across the
face.
Spider started to pull away his leg, but it was
stuck fast in the rubber man’s face! The lifeless
form had been standing in the hot, burning sun
all day and was melting, just a bit…
‘How dare you! Let me go!’ Spider yelled, giving
the man a big kick in the guts. Now stuck fast
twice, Spider yelled the worst words in the world
at the top of his lungs. He kicked out and hit
out, getting all his legs stuck to the rubber man.
And that was the way he stayed, until morning
came.
Spider passed the time cursing the rubber
man...
Then lamenting his unwillingness to work...
Then thinking of the shame about to fall on
himself...
And, at long last, starting to think of the shame
about to fall on his unwitting wife...
* * * *
‘Aha!’ yelled Anan at sun-rise, seeing Spider stuck
fast to the rubber man. ‘So you are the worthless
worm who stole all those nuts!’
‘Who, me?’ said Spider, in a rather unconvincing
attempt to seem innocent. ‘Me, a worthless worm?
How can you say that! Slander! Untruths! Why are
you hurting my feelings like this! Me, an innocent
hard-working Spider! Just out for a nice stroll
when this vile rubber man, er, ATTACKED all my
legs!’
Ignoring all the protests, Anan ordered six strong
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workers to yank Spider away from the rubber
man. They dragged him off to stand before the top
dog, his feet sticking to the ground as he went.
The boss let rip, spitting and hissing about feckless
spiders who just pretended to work. This went on
for a rather long time.
At last the boss let Spider go. He, and all Spider’s
ex-pals, did not, for a moment, expect Spider
to mend his wicked ways. But they were in for
a shock: Spider did not seem to be the same,
somehow. Sure, he still didn’t work. But then, he
didn’t do a thing. He didn’t say a word. Spider just
lurked in a dark corner of his hut, week in, week
out, for the rest of his life.
And so it is, from that day to this, spiders have
always lurked in the darkest of corners.
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Copyright © Emily Carter 2012
Published in the UK by Piper Books Ltd, 13 Southfield Rd,
Oxford OX4 1NX
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