Write what happens nextInvention type bac

Liban, 2015, LV1

In the following document, write what happens next. (250 words, +/- 10 words)

Rohinton Mistry, A Fine Balance, 1995

Maneck, a fourteen-year-old Indian boy, comes back home from his boarding school for the holidays to see his parents who are shopkeepers in a mountain village.

That year, for the first time, his parents were going to leave him on his own for two days while they attended a wedding. Instead of closing down the place and sending him to a neighbour's house, Mr Kohlah decided, as a special treat, to let him run the shop alone.
“Just do things the way we do when I'm here,” he said. “Everything will go smoothly. Don't forget to count the soft-drink crates taken by the driver. And phone for tomorrow's milk – very, very important. If there's a problem, call Grewal Uncle. I've told him to check on you later on.” Mr. and Mrs. Kohlah went around the shop one more time with Maneck, reminding and pointing, then departed.
The day passed like any other. There were flurries of activity followed by periods of calm during which he wiped the glass cases, dusted the shelves, cleaned the counter. The regulars inquired about his parents' absence, and praised his ability. “Look at the boy, keeping the barracks shipshape. Deserves a medal.”
“Farokh and Aban could retire tomorrow if they wanted to,” said Brigadier Grewal. “Nothing to worry about, with Field Marshal Maneck in charge of General Store.” Everyone present laughed heartily at that.
Late in the evening, quiet descended upon the square as daylight began to fade. Maneck went to switch on the porch lamp, feeling proud of his day's work. It was almost time to close the store. All that remained was to empty the till, count the money, and enter the amount in the book. From the porch he saw the shop's interior, and paused. That big glass case in the centre, with soaps and talcum powders – it would look much nicer in the front. And the old newspaper table near the entrance, scarred and wobbly – wouldn't be better off pushed to the side?
The idea pursued Maneck and seized his imagination while he warmed his food. The more he thought about it, the more it seemed like a smart rearrangement of the display. He could easily manage it alone, tonight. What a surprise for Mummy and Daddy when they came back.
After eating his dinner, he returned to the darkened shop, switched on the light, and dragged the old table out of the way. The glass case was more difficult, heavy and cumbersome. He emptied the merchandise and pushed it slowly to its new, prominent spot. Then he replaced the cans and cartons, but not in their boring old stacks – he arranged them in interesting pyramids and spirals. Perfect, he thought, standing back to admire the effect, and went to bed.
The next evening, Mr. Kohlah walked in and saw the alterations. Without pausing the greet Maneck or ask how things were, he told him to shut the door, hang out the Closed sign.
“But there's still one hour left,” said Maneck, hungry for his father's praise.
“I know, Shut it anyway.” Then his father ordered him to put everything back the way it was. His voice was barren of emotion.
Maneck would have preferred it if his father had scolded or slapped him, or punished him in any manner he wanted. But this contempt, this refusal to even talk about it, was horrid. The enthusiasm drained from his face, leaving behind a puzzled anguish, and he felt on the verge of tears.
His mother was moved to intervene. “But Farokh, don't you think it looks nice, what Maneck done?”
“The looks are irrelevant. What instructions did we give when we trusted him with the shop for two days? This is how he repays the trust. It's a question of discipline and following orders, not of looking nice.”

Quel type de texte faut-il produire ?

Rohinton Mistry, A Fine Balance, 1995

Maneck, a fourteen-year-old Indian boy, comes back home from his boarding school for the holidays to see his parents who are shopkeepers in a mountain village.

That year, for the first time, his parents were going to leave him on his own for two days while they attended a wedding. Instead of closing down the place and sending him to a neighbour's house, Mr Kohlah decided, as a special treat, to let him run the shop alone.
“Just do things the way we do when I'm here,” he said. “Everything will go smoothly. Don't forget to count the soft-drink crates taken by the driver. And phone for tomorrow's milk – very, very important. If there's a problem, call Grewal Uncle. I've told him to check on you later on.” Mr. and Mrs. Kohlah went around the shop one more time with Maneck, reminding and pointing, then departed.
The day passed like any other. There were flurries of activity followed by periods of calm during which he wiped the glass cases, dusted the shelves, cleaned the counter. The regulars inquired about his parents' absence, and praised his ability. “Look at the boy, keeping the barracks shipshape. Deserves a medal.”
“Farokh and Aban could retire tomorrow if they wanted to,” said Brigadier Grewal. “Nothing to worry about, with Field Marshal Maneck in charge of General Store.” Everyone present laughed heartily at that.
Late in the evening, quiet descended upon the square as daylight began to fade. Maneck went to switch on the porch lamp, feeling proud of his day's work. It was almost time to close the store. All that remained was to empty the till, count the money, and enter the amount in the book. From the porch he saw the shop's interior, and paused. That big glass case in the centre, with soaps and talcum powders – it would look much nicer in the front. And the old newspaper table near the entrance, scarred and wobbly – wouldn't be better off pushed to the side?
The idea pursued Maneck and seized his imagination while he warmed his food. The more he thought about it, the more it seemed like a smart rearrangement of the display. He could easily manage it alone, tonight. What a surprise for Mummy and Daddy when they came back.
After eating his dinner, he returned to the darkened shop, switched on the light, and dragged the old table out of the way. The glass case was more difficult, heavy and cumbersome. He emptied the merchandise and pushed it slowly to its new, prominent spot. Then he replaced the cans and cartons, but not in their boring old stacks – he arranged them in interesting pyramids and spirals. Perfect, he thought, standing back to admire the effect, and went to bed.
The next evening, Mr. Kohlah walked in and saw the alterations. Without pausing the greet Maneck or ask how things were, he told him to shut the door, hang out the Closed sign.
“But there's still one hour left,” said Maneck, hungry for his father's praise.
“I know, Shut it anyway.” Then his father ordered him to put everything back the way it was. His voice was barren of emotion.
Maneck would have preferred it if his father had scolded or slapped him, or punished him in any manner he wanted. But this contempt, this refusal to even talk about it, was horrid. The enthusiasm drained from his face, leaving behind a puzzled anguish, and he felt on the verge of tears.
His mother was moved to intervene. “But Farokh, don't you think it looks nice, what Maneck done?”
“The looks are irrelevant. What instructions did we give when we trusted him with the shop for two days? This is how he repays the trust. It's a question of discipline and following orders, not of looking nice.”

Quels temps faut-il utiliser ?

Rohinton Mistry, A Fine Balance, 1995

Maneck, a fourteen-year-old Indian boy, comes back home from his boarding school for the holidays to see his parents who are shopkeepers in a mountain village.

That year, for the first time, his parents were going to leave him on his own for two days while they attended a wedding. Instead of closing down the place and sending him to a neighbour's house, Mr Kohlah decided, as a special treat, to let him run the shop alone.
“Just do things the way we do when I'm here,” he said. “Everything will go smoothly. Don't forget to count the soft-drink crates taken by the driver. And phone for tomorrow's milk – very, very important. If there's a problem, call Grewal Uncle. I've told him to check on you later on.” Mr. and Mrs. Kohlah went around the shop one more time with Maneck, reminding and pointing, then departed.
The day passed like any other. There were flurries of activity followed by periods of calm during which he wiped the glass cases, dusted the shelves, cleaned the counter. The regulars inquired about his parents' absence, and praised his ability. “Look at the boy, keeping the barracks shipshape. Deserves a medal.”
“Farokh and Aban could retire tomorrow if they wanted to,” said Brigadier Grewal. “Nothing to worry about, with Field Marshal Maneck in charge of General Store.” Everyone present laughed heartily at that.
Late in the evening, quiet descended upon the square as daylight began to fade. Maneck went to switch on the porch lamp, feeling proud of his day's work. It was almost time to close the store. All that remained was to empty the till, count the money, and enter the amount in the book. From the porch he saw the shop's interior, and paused. That big glass case in the centre, with soaps and talcum powders – it would look much nicer in the front. And the old newspaper table near the entrance, scarred and wobbly – wouldn't be better off pushed to the side?
The idea pursued Maneck and seized his imagination while he warmed his food. The more he thought about it, the more it seemed like a smart rearrangement of the display. He could easily manage it alone, tonight. What a surprise for Mummy and Daddy when they came back.
After eating his dinner, he returned to the darkened shop, switched on the light, and dragged the old table out of the way. The glass case was more difficult, heavy and cumbersome. He emptied the merchandise and pushed it slowly to its new, prominent spot. Then he replaced the cans and cartons, but not in their boring old stacks – he arranged them in interesting pyramids and spirals. Perfect, he thought, standing back to admire the effect, and went to bed.
The next evening, Mr. Kohlah walked in and saw the alterations. Without pausing the greet Maneck or ask how things were, he told him to shut the door, hang out the Closed sign.
“But there's still one hour left,” said Maneck, hungry for his father's praise.
“I know, Shut it anyway.” Then his father ordered him to put everything back the way it was. His voice was barren of emotion.
Maneck would have preferred it if his father had scolded or slapped him, or punished him in any manner he wanted. But this contempt, this refusal to even talk about it, was horrid. The enthusiasm drained from his face, leaving behind a puzzled anguish, and he felt on the verge of tears.
His mother was moved to intervene. “But Farokh, don't you think it looks nice, what Maneck done?”
“The looks are irrelevant. What instructions did we give when we trusted him with the shop for two days? This is how he repays the trust. It's a question of discipline and following orders, not of looking nice.”

Quelle expression traduit "la nuit porte conseil" ?

Rohinton Mistry, A Fine Balance, 1995

Maneck, a fourteen-year-old Indian boy, comes back home from his boarding school for the holidays to see his parents who are shopkeepers in a mountain village.

That year, for the first time, his parents were going to leave him on his own for two days while they attended a wedding. Instead of closing down the place and sending him to a neighbour's house, Mr Kohlah decided, as a special treat, to let him run the shop alone.
“Just do things the way we do when I'm here,” he said. “Everything will go smoothly. Don't forget to count the soft-drink crates taken by the driver. And phone for tomorrow's milk – very, very important. If there's a problem, call Grewal Uncle. I've told him to check on you later on.” Mr. and Mrs. Kohlah went around the shop one more time with Maneck, reminding and pointing, then departed.
The day passed like any other. There were flurries of activity followed by periods of calm during which he wiped the glass cases, dusted the shelves, cleaned the counter. The regulars inquired about his parents' absence, and praised his ability. “Look at the boy, keeping the barracks shipshape. Deserves a medal.”
“Farokh and Aban could retire tomorrow if they wanted to,” said Brigadier Grewal. “Nothing to worry about, with Field Marshal Maneck in charge of General Store.” Everyone present laughed heartily at that.
Late in the evening, quiet descended upon the square as daylight began to fade. Maneck went to switch on the porch lamp, feeling proud of his day's work. It was almost time to close the store. All that remained was to empty the till, count the money, and enter the amount in the book. From the porch he saw the shop's interior, and paused. That big glass case in the centre, with soaps and talcum powders – it would look much nicer in the front. And the old newspaper table near the entrance, scarred and wobbly – wouldn't be better off pushed to the side?
The idea pursued Maneck and seized his imagination while he warmed his food. The more he thought about it, the more it seemed like a smart rearrangement of the display. He could easily manage it alone, tonight. What a surprise for Mummy and Daddy when they came back.
After eating his dinner, he returned to the darkened shop, switched on the light, and dragged the old table out of the way. The glass case was more difficult, heavy and cumbersome. He emptied the merchandise and pushed it slowly to its new, prominent spot. Then he replaced the cans and cartons, but not in their boring old stacks – he arranged them in interesting pyramids and spirals. Perfect, he thought, standing back to admire the effect, and went to bed.
The next evening, Mr. Kohlah walked in and saw the alterations. Without pausing the greet Maneck or ask how things were, he told him to shut the door, hang out the Closed sign.
“But there's still one hour left,” said Maneck, hungry for his father's praise.
“I know, Shut it anyway.” Then his father ordered him to put everything back the way it was. His voice was barren of emotion.
Maneck would have preferred it if his father had scolded or slapped him, or punished him in any manner he wanted. But this contempt, this refusal to even talk about it, was horrid. The enthusiasm drained from his face, leaving behind a puzzled anguish, and he felt on the verge of tears.
His mother was moved to intervene. “But Farokh, don't you think it looks nice, what Maneck done?”
“The looks are irrelevant. What instructions did we give when we trusted him with the shop for two days? This is how he repays the trust. It's a question of discipline and following orders, not of looking nice.”

Quel adverbe souligne le courage de Maneck ?

Rohinton Mistry, A Fine Balance, 1995

Maneck, a fourteen-year-old Indian boy, comes back home from his boarding school for the holidays to see his parents who are shopkeepers in a mountain village.

That year, for the first time, his parents were going to leave him on his own for two days while they attended a wedding. Instead of closing down the place and sending him to a neighbour's house, Mr Kohlah decided, as a special treat, to let him run the shop alone.
“Just do things the way we do when I'm here,” he said. “Everything will go smoothly. Don't forget to count the soft-drink crates taken by the driver. And phone for tomorrow's milk – very, very important. If there's a problem, call Grewal Uncle. I've told him to check on you later on.” Mr. and Mrs. Kohlah went around the shop one more time with Maneck, reminding and pointing, then departed.
The day passed like any other. There were flurries of activity followed by periods of calm during which he wiped the glass cases, dusted the shelves, cleaned the counter. The regulars inquired about his parents' absence, and praised his ability. “Look at the boy, keeping the barracks shipshape. Deserves a medal.”
“Farokh and Aban could retire tomorrow if they wanted to,” said Brigadier Grewal. “Nothing to worry about, with Field Marshal Maneck in charge of General Store.” Everyone present laughed heartily at that.
Late in the evening, quiet descended upon the square as daylight began to fade. Maneck went to switch on the porch lamp, feeling proud of his day's work. It was almost time to close the store. All that remained was to empty the till, count the money, and enter the amount in the book. From the porch he saw the shop's interior, and paused. That big glass case in the centre, with soaps and talcum powders – it would look much nicer in the front. And the old newspaper table near the entrance, scarred and wobbly – wouldn't be better off pushed to the side?
The idea pursued Maneck and seized his imagination while he warmed his food. The more he thought about it, the more it seemed like a smart rearrangement of the display. He could easily manage it alone, tonight. What a surprise for Mummy and Daddy when they came back.
After eating his dinner, he returned to the darkened shop, switched on the light, and dragged the old table out of the way. The glass case was more difficult, heavy and cumbersome. He emptied the merchandise and pushed it slowly to its new, prominent spot. Then he replaced the cans and cartons, but not in their boring old stacks – he arranged them in interesting pyramids and spirals. Perfect, he thought, standing back to admire the effect, and went to bed.
The next evening, Mr. Kohlah walked in and saw the alterations. Without pausing the greet Maneck or ask how things were, he told him to shut the door, hang out the Closed sign.
“But there's still one hour left,” said Maneck, hungry for his father's praise.
“I know, Shut it anyway.” Then his father ordered him to put everything back the way it was. His voice was barren of emotion.
Maneck would have preferred it if his father had scolded or slapped him, or punished him in any manner he wanted. But this contempt, this refusal to even talk about it, was horrid. The enthusiasm drained from his face, leaving behind a puzzled anguish, and he felt on the verge of tears.
His mother was moved to intervene. “But Farokh, don't you think it looks nice, what Maneck done?”
“The looks are irrelevant. What instructions did we give when we trusted him with the shop for two days? This is how he repays the trust. It's a question of discipline and following orders, not of looking nice.”

Quelle expression traduit le soulagement de Maneck ?

Rohinton Mistry, A Fine Balance, 1995

Maneck, a fourteen-year-old Indian boy, comes back home from his boarding school for the holidays to see his parents who are shopkeepers in a mountain village.

That year, for the first time, his parents were going to leave him on his own for two days while they attended a wedding. Instead of closing down the place and sending him to a neighbour's house, Mr Kohlah decided, as a special treat, to let him run the shop alone.
“Just do things the way we do when I'm here,” he said. “Everything will go smoothly. Don't forget to count the soft-drink crates taken by the driver. And phone for tomorrow's milk – very, very important. If there's a problem, call Grewal Uncle. I've told him to check on you later on.” Mr. and Mrs. Kohlah went around the shop one more time with Maneck, reminding and pointing, then departed.
The day passed like any other. There were flurries of activity followed by periods of calm during which he wiped the glass cases, dusted the shelves, cleaned the counter. The regulars inquired about his parents' absence, and praised his ability. “Look at the boy, keeping the barracks shipshape. Deserves a medal.”
“Farokh and Aban could retire tomorrow if they wanted to,” said Brigadier Grewal. “Nothing to worry about, with Field Marshal Maneck in charge of General Store.” Everyone present laughed heartily at that.
Late in the evening, quiet descended upon the square as daylight began to fade. Maneck went to switch on the porch lamp, feeling proud of his day's work. It was almost time to close the store. All that remained was to empty the till, count the money, and enter the amount in the book. From the porch he saw the shop's interior, and paused. That big glass case in the centre, with soaps and talcum powders – it would look much nicer in the front. And the old newspaper table near the entrance, scarred and wobbly – wouldn't be better off pushed to the side?
The idea pursued Maneck and seized his imagination while he warmed his food. The more he thought about it, the more it seemed like a smart rearrangement of the display. He could easily manage it alone, tonight. What a surprise for Mummy and Daddy when they came back.
After eating his dinner, he returned to the darkened shop, switched on the light, and dragged the old table out of the way. The glass case was more difficult, heavy and cumbersome. He emptied the merchandise and pushed it slowly to its new, prominent spot. Then he replaced the cans and cartons, but not in their boring old stacks – he arranged them in interesting pyramids and spirals. Perfect, he thought, standing back to admire the effect, and went to bed.
The next evening, Mr. Kohlah walked in and saw the alterations. Without pausing the greet Maneck or ask how things were, he told him to shut the door, hang out the Closed sign.
“But there's still one hour left,” said Maneck, hungry for his father's praise.
“I know, Shut it anyway.” Then his father ordered him to put everything back the way it was. His voice was barren of emotion.
Maneck would have preferred it if his father had scolded or slapped him, or punished him in any manner he wanted. But this contempt, this refusal to even talk about it, was horrid. The enthusiasm drained from his face, leaving behind a puzzled anguish, and he felt on the verge of tears.
His mother was moved to intervene. “But Farokh, don't you think it looks nice, what Maneck done?”
“The looks are irrelevant. What instructions did we give when we trusted him with the shop for two days? This is how he repays the trust. It's a question of discipline and following orders, not of looking nice.”

Questions fréquentes

Quelles sont les matières disponibles sur Kartable ?

Sur Kartable, l'élève accède à toutes les matières principales de la primaire au lycée, y compris pour les spécialités et les options. Mathématiques, physique-chimie, SVT, sciences, français, littérature, histoire, géographie, enseignement moral et civique, SES, philosophie, anglais, allemand et espagnol.
Inscrivez-vous

Les cours sont-ils conformes aux programmes officiels de l'Education nationale ?

L'intégralité des cours sur Kartable est rédigée par des professeurs de l'Éducation nationale et est conforme au programme en vigueur, incluant la réforme du lycée de l'année 2019-2020.
Choisissez votre formule

L'élève peut-il accéder à tous les niveaux ?

Sur Kartable, l'élève peut accéder à toutes les matières dans tous les niveaux de son choix. Ainsi, il peut revenir sur les notions fondamentales qu'il n'aurait pas comprises les années précédentes et se perfectionner.
Plus d'info

Kartable est-il gratuit ?

L'inscription gratuite donne accès à 10 contenus (cours, exercices, fiches ou quiz). Pour débloquer l'accès illimité aux contenus, aux corrections d'exercices, mode hors-ligne et téléchargement en PDF, il faut souscrire à l'offre Kartable Premium.
Plus d'info

Qui rédige les cours de Kartable ?

L'intégralité des contenus disponibles sur Kartable est conçue par notre équipe pédagogique, composée de près de 200 enseignants de l'Éducation nationale que nous avons sélectionnés.
Afficher plus

Qu'est ce que le service Prof en ligne ?

L'option Prof en ligne est un service de chat en ligne entre élèves et professeurs. Notre Prof en ligne répond à toutes les questions sur les cours, exercices, méthodologie et aide au devoirs, pour toutes les classes et dans toutes les matières. Le service est ouvert du lundi au vendredi de 16h à 19h pour les membres ayant souscrit à l'option.
Choisissez votre formule