Adoption
"So, what you have to do is explain how Petruchio is presented overall in the play and then link it back to this extract here. At the same time, you want to be aware of how this quote above links to him overall, through the extract and in general."
Phillip squinted down at the practice paper as if that would somehow help him understand it better. He was beginning to get used to the examination questions, but it also helped when he had an English teacher as an aunt. She liked to remind him that she also taught History, though he told her that was irrelevant when it came to his exams. He hadn't taken History.
"Well, yeah but we can only assume he was making fun of Petruchio," he debated.
Rachel laughed, taking a sip of her coffee. "We can. Shakespeare was known for making fun at everyone. It may be based on assumption but it is the most popular theory, and whatever it is you believe, it doesn't matter. The question has asked you to discuss it from that point of view so that's what you have to do."
Sighing heavily, he dropped his hand on the lined paper, the pen in his grasp hanging dejectedly from between his fingers.
"It's all crap," he muttered. "Shakespeare is not the be all and end all."
She caught his criticism, though she hardly cared. One brow raised, she stared at him from across the dining room table. A question in her gaze that asked if he were joking or if he really was struggling. He caught the light concern and flashed her a reassuring grin.
"I'll be fine, Rach." He paused before straightening up in the chair, as if he intended to do some work. "Thanks for helping me."
Her hand reached across and rested on his, reassurance in her smile. "No problem; you know I will always be here if you need help. Now, what do you fancy for dinner?"
"Chicken nuggets?"
"No nuggets…"
"Ugh, fine. How about that cottage pie you promised to make?"
Holding the coffee mug close to her chest, she appeared to be warming herself up, her pale fingers gripping onto the ceramic. The thought of a hot meal was pleasing to both of them and her shoulders raised slightly in excitement.
"Oh, that would be nice," she beamed. "Yes, I can make that for you."
"Thanks, Rach."
He watched her stand, moving round the table. Flinching, he tried to dodge the incoming kiss, receiving it on the temple, nonetheless.
"Anything for you, dear," she hummed, drifting out of the room, half in a content daze.
Phillip couldn't begin to describe in words how thankful he was- that she had let him live there, that she continued to care for him despite him getting older, and that she took time out of her day if he ever needed her. Even when he knew she was busy. How nice it was, he thought, to have a home with Rachel.