"Wonder," Vocabulary from Part 1

August 24, 2013
R.J. Palacio's children's novel "Wonder" follows a handicapped boy through a harrowing journey from the safe solitude of home schooling to the difficulties of public school.

Learn these word lists for the novel: Part 1, Part 2, Part 3
Although this is a fairly common word, it provides one of the major themes of Wonder, and for that reason, it carries extra weight in this book. Auggie uses the adjective to refer to most kids who are not like him, but he's sad rather than bragging, since his version of extraordinary causes him to be friendless in the playground. The author's tone towards the word is less positive, since to be ordinary is to not be exceptional or wonderful like the main character.
But I know ordinary kids don’t make other ordinary kids run away screaming in playgrounds.
I know ordinary kids don’t get stared at wherever they go.
They see me as extraordinary.
They told Mom and Dad I had a cleft palate and some other stuff going on.
I had a surgery to fix my cleft palate when I was a baby, and then a second cleft surgery when I was four, but I still have a hole in the roof of my mouth.
Be forewarned that some lockers are not right outside this class but down the hall, and before anyone even thinks of asking: no, you cannot switch lockers and you can’t switch locks.
"Basically, a precept is anything that helps guide us when making decisions about really important things.”
Do not confuse "plaque" with a "q" with the other vocabulary word in this list, "plague."
“Did anyone happen to notice the plaque next to the door of this school?"
In this case, the "device" is the jawbone.
And even though I had jaw- alignment surgery a few years ago, I have to chew food in the front of my mouth.
Then she would tell the doctor when he made his rounds what needed adjusting or things like that.
They would take the longest way around me to avoid bumping into me in any way, like I had some germ they could catch, like my face was contagious.
That’s why your deeds are like your monuments.
The things we do are like monuments that people build to honor heroes after they’ve died.
The things we do outlast our mortality.
Apparently, she had checked herself into the hospital because she’d been feeling nauseous.
You see movies and TV shows where people receive horrible news in hospitals, but for us, with all our many trips to the hospital with August, there had always been good outcomes.
They bulge outward because his eye cavities are too shallow to accommodate them.
The top eyelids are always halfway closed, like he’s on the verge of sleeping.
Several surgeries to correct his lip have left a few scars around his mouth, the most noticeable one being a jagged gash running from the middle of his upper lip to his nose.
When he was very little, before a piece of his hip bone was surgically implanted into his lower jaw, he really had no chin at all.
Most kids born with these types of birth defects have problems with their middle ears that prevent them from hearing, but so far August can hear well enough through his tiny cauliflower-shaped ears.
Does August see himself as he might have looked without that single gene that caused the catastrophe of his face?
He looks better now, no doubt about that, but the signs we used to gauge his moods are all gone.
It was the first time in his life that I heard him be sarcastic like that.
The only thing illuminating her was the blue night-light in August’s bedroom.
I’ve pored over grainy sepia pictures of long-dead relatives in babushkas; black-and-white snapshots of distant cousins in crisp white linen suits, soldiers in uniform, ladies with beehive hairdos; Polaroids of bell-bottomed teenagers and long-haired hippies, and not once have I been able to detect even the slightest trace of August’s face in their faces.
There’s that other part of his genetic makeup that’s not inherited but just incredibly bad luck.
I’d never realized how funny she was (not laugh-out-loud Daddy-funny, but full of great quips), and she never knew how lighthearted I could be.
In this case, it is capitalized, which means it refers to the Black Plague that happened in the Middle Ages.
Anyone who accidentally touches August has only thirty seconds to wash their hands or find hand sanitizer before they catch the Plague.
But I also have this other syndrome thing that I can’t even pronounce.

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