Transcript Clauses - Gordon State College

Clauses
A clause, by definition, has a subject & a verb:
We ran.
Because he doesn’t know.
They laughed.
That he can see.
If it doesn’t have both a subject & verb, it’s a phrase, not a
clause:
In the middle of the night
Running after the car
To visit the sick
Condemned to death
His friend being sick
Don’t be fooled by words that CAN be verbs but that need helping
verbs:
The boy running down the road
The fallen soldier
In these phrases, “running” & “fallen” describe a noun. Which boy? The
one who is running. Which soldier? The one who has fallen.
If you were told to make the first phrase into a sentence, you could
probably easily come up with “The boy WAS running down the road.”
For an “-ing” verb to be used as a VERB, it has to have a helping verb.
Otherwise, it’s something besides a verb (as in this case, where it’s an
adjective). The same is true of past participles like “fallen.” To make
the second phrase into a sentence, you’d have to say something like
“the soldier has fallen.”
Go HERE for practice identifying clauses.
Remember:
If it has a subject & verb, it IS a clause.
If it doesn’t have both a subject AND a verb,
it’s NOT a clause.
There are 2 types of clause: dependent & independent. Independent
clauses can stand on their own (i.e., they are sentences):
We ran.
They laughed.
He sat down.
You broke the chair.
Dependent clauses cannot stand alone. They’re dependent on &
subordinate to another clause:
Because he doesn’t know.
That he can see.
Those ideas are subordinate to other ideas:
(He didn’t answer) because he doesn’t know.
(I’m thrilled) that he can see.
Dependent clauses are also called subordinate clauses, since the idea
they state is subordinate to another idea & clause.
There are lots of SUBORDINATING CONJUNCTIONS that
can link a dependent clause to an independent clause.
Below is a list, but you shouldn’t consider it exhaustive.
(That means that the list isn’t complete, that you will
encounter others.)
after
although
as long as
even if
that
so that
when
whereas
before
as
as though
even though
than
unless
whenever
wherever
once
as if
because
if
since
until
where
while
The following selection is from chapter one of The Hunger Games. Write down ALL subjects &
their verbs.
When I wake up, the other side of the bed is cold. My fingers stretch out, seeking Prim’s warmth but finding only the rough
canvas cover of the mattress. She must have had bad dreams and climbed in with our mother. Of course she did. This is the
day of the reaping. I prop myself up on one elbow. There’s enough light in the bedroom to see them. My little sister, Prim,
curled up on her side, cocooned in my mother’s body, their cheeks pressed together. In sleep, my mother looks younger, still
worn but not so beaten-down. Prim’s face is as fresh as a raindrop, as lovely as the primrose for which she was named. My
mother was very beautiful once, too. Or so they tell me.
Sitting at Prim’s knees, guarding her, is the world’s ugliest cat. Mashed-in nose, half of one ear missing, eyes the colour of
rotting squash. Prim named him Buttercup, insisting that his muddy yellow coat matched the bright flower. He hates me. Or at
least distrusts me. Even though it was years ago, I think he still remembers how I tried to drown him in a bucket when Prim
brought him home. Scrawny kitten, belly swollen with worms, crawling with fleas. The last thing I needed was another mouth to
feed. But Prim begged so hard, cried even, I had to let him stay. It turned out OK. My mother got rid of the vermin and he’s a
born mouser. Even catches the occasional rat. Sometimes, when I clean a kill, I feed Buttercup the entrails. He has stopped
hissing at me.
Entrails. No hissing. This is the closest we will ever come to love.
I swing my legs off the bed and slide into my hunting boots. Supple leather that has moulded to my feet. I pull on trousers, a
shirt, tuck my long dark braid up into a cap, and grab my forage bag. On the table, under a wooden bowl to protect it from
hungry rats and cats alike, sits a perfect little goat’s cheese wrapped in basil leaves. Prim’s gift to me on reaping day. I put the
cheese carefully in my pocket as I slip outside.
Our part of District 12, nicknamed the Seam, is usually crawling with coal miners heading out to the morning shift at this hour.
Men and women with hunched shoulders, swollen knuckles, many of whom have long since stopped trying to scrub the coal
dust out of their broken nails and the lines of their sunken faces. But today the black cinder streets are empty. Shutters on the
squat grey houses are closed. The reaping isn’t until two. May as well sleep in. If you can.
Subjucts are underlined; verbs are in yellow.
When I wake up, the other side of the bed is cold. My fingers stretch out, seeking Prim’s warmth but finding only the rough
canvas cover of the mattress. She must have had bad dreams and climbed in with our mother. Of course she did. This is the
day of the reaping. I prop myself up on one elbow. There’s enough light in the bedroom to see them. My little sister, Prim,
curled up on her side, cocooned in my mother’s body, their cheeks pressed together. In sleep, my mother looks younger, still
worn but not so beaten-down. Prim’s face is as fresh as a raindrop, as lovely as the primrose for which she was named. My
mother was very beautiful once, too. Or so they tell me.
Let’s stop here for a moment & examine some difficulties. You may have questioned whether “seeking” in the second sentence
is a verb. It isn’t; “stretch” is the verb, & “seeking” & “finding” describe “fingers.” And remember, “-ing” verbs have to have a
helping verb in order to function as verbs.
The sentence that starts “There’s enough light” is a bit tricky. When a sentence starts with “There is” or “There are,” what
FOLLOWS the verb is the subject. “There” is an adverb. So “light” is the subject & “is” is the verb.
You know how you’re taught to avoid fragments? This selection is full of them. What we’re reading is Katniss’s thoughts on
waking, & we don’t always think (or speak) in whole sentences. Depending on what you’re writing, it’s OK to use fragments, but
you have to learn NOT to use them (because you’re learning formal writing in school) before you can learn to use them
effectively.
“My little sister, Prim, curled up on her side, cocooned in my mother’s body, their cheeks pressed together.” That isn’t a
sentence; it’s a fragment. Conceivably, “My sister curled up on her side,” could be a sentence, with “sister as the subject” &
“curled” as the verb. But both females are asleep, & Katniss is observing them. She’s not watching Prim curl up; “curled up” is
describing her position, just as “cocooned” is. The same is true of “cheeks pressed together.” They’re not pressing their
cheeks together; “pressed together” is describing “cheeks.” No where in this long group of words is there a subject/verb
combination.
Sitting at Prim’s knees, guarding her, is the world’s ugliest cat. Mashed-in nose, half of one ear missing, eyes the colour
of rotting squash. Prim named him Buttercup, insisting that his muddy yellow coat matched the bright flower. He hates
me. Or at least distrusts me. Even though it was years ago, I think he still remembers how I tried to drown him in a
bucket when Prim brought him home. Scrawny kitten, belly swollen with worms, crawling with fleas. The last thing I
needed was another mouth to feed. But Prim begged so hard, cried even, I had to let him stay. It turned out OK. My
mother got rid of the vermin and he’s a born mouser. Even catches the occasional rat. Sometimes, when I clean a kill, I
feed Buttercup the entrails. He has stopped hissing at me.
Entrails. No hissing. This is the closest we will ever come to love.
Now let’s look more closely at this selection.
In the first sentence, the subject, “cat,” follows the verb “is.” “Sitting” & “guarding” describe the cat. The next group of
words is a fragment. “Mashed-in” describes the nose, “missing” describes half the ear, and “rotting” describes squash.
There is not subject-verb combination here.
Look at these words on the third line: “Or at least distrusts me.” If they’d been combined with the previous sentence—
”He hates me or at least distrusts me,” “distrusts” would be a verb along with “hates.” But since it’s grouped off by itself,
it’s a fragment; it has no subject (although we know that the subject is supposed to be “he/the cat”).
OK, now look at the sentence that starts in the middle of the third line: “I think he still remembers…” You have I + think
and he + remembers. You can’t just put two clauses together without a conjunction. Here we have an UNDERSTOOD
conjunction. Could we not say, “I think that he still remembers…”? Of course. It’s just that sometimes we leave the
“that” out. So what we have here is the main subject verb (“I think”) followed by a subordinate clause where the
subordinating conjunction (“that”) is understood. The same is true of the last line in the selection: “This is the closest
(that) we will ever come to love.”
You should be able to explain now why the phrase that starts with “Scrawny kitten” is a fragment, as well as why the
phrase that starts with “Even catches” is a fragment.
I swing my legs off the bed and slide into my hunting boots. Supple leather that has moulded to my feet. I pull on trousers, a
shirt, tuck my long dark braid up into a cap, and grab my forage bag. On the table, under a wooden bowl to protect it from
hungry rats and cats alike, sits a perfect little goat’s cheese wrapped in basil leaves. Prim’s gift to me on reaping day. I put
the cheese carefully in my pocket as I slip outside.
Our part of District 12, nicknamed the Seam, is usually crawling with coal miners heading out to the morning shift at this
hour. Men and women with hunched shoulders, swollen knuckles, many of whom have long since stopped trying to scrub
the coal dust out of their broken nails and the lines of their sunken faces. But today the black cinder streets are empty.
Shutters on the squat grey houses are closed. The reaping isn’t until two. May as well sleep in. If you can.
OK, let’s look at the second group of words, which begins with “Supple leather.” You have a subject & a verb, so you have
a sentence, right? Wrong. That’s a fragment because you don’t have an INDEPENDENT subject & verb. “That has
moulded” describes “leather”; it doesn’t stand by itself. “That” is both the subject & subordinating conjunction of a
subordinate clause. There is no main subject & verb. If you were to take out the word “that,” “leather” would be the subject,
& “has moulded” would be the verb, & you’d have a complete sentence.
The second sentence, which begins with “I pull,” has a compound verb: pull, tuck, grab.
The third sentence has the verb coming before the subject, as we’ve seen before in this exercise. The fourth should also
look familiar by now. It’s a fragment. It looks as if “men & women” might be a subject, but there’s no verb. Men &
women…what? There’s no verb to show their action. “Many of whom have long since stopped…” is a subordinate clause.
“Whom” is the subordinating conjunction. The last sentence is also a fragment, because “if” is a subordinating conjunction,
& there’s no main clause to which it can be subordinate. If we dropped the “if,” it would be an independent clause—i.e., a
sentence.
Now let’s see if you can identify each clause as independent or dependent (subordinate).
When 1 I wake up, the other 2 side of the bed is cold. My 3 fingers stretch out, seeking Prim’s warmth but finding only the
rough canvas cover of the mattress. 4 She must have had bad dreams and climbed in with our mother. Of course 5 she did.
6This is the day of the reaping. 7 I prop myself up on one elbow. There’s enough 8 light in the bedroom to see them. My little
sister, Prim, curled up on her side, cocooned in my mother’s body, their cheeks pressed together. In sleep, my 9 mother looks
younger, still worn but not so beaten-down. Prim’s 10 face is as fresh as a raindrop, as lovely as the primrose for which 11 she
was named. My 12 mother was very beautiful once, too. Or so 13 they tell me.
Sitting at Prim’s knees, guarding her, is the world’s ugliest 14 cat. Mashed-in nose, half of one ear missing, eyes the colour of
rotting squash. 15 Prim named him Buttercup, insisting that his muddy yellow 16 coat matched the bright flower. 17 He hates
me. Or at least distrusts me. Even though 18 it was years ago, 19 I think 20 he still remembers how 21 I tried to drown him in
a bucket when 22 Prim brought him home. Scrawny kitten, belly swollen with worms, crawling with fleas. The last 23 thing 24 I
needed was another mouth to feed. But 25 Prim begged so hard, cried even, 26 I had to let him stay. 27 It turned out OK. My
28 mother got rid of the vermin and 29 he’s a born mouser. Even catches the occasional rat. Sometimes, when 30 I clean a
kill, 31 I feed Buttercup the entrails. 32 He has stopped hissing at me.
Entrails. No hissing. 33 This is the closest 34 we will ever come to love.
35 I swing my legs off the bed and slide into my hunting boots. Supple leather 36 that has moulded to my feet. 37 I pull on
trousers, a shirt, tuck my long dark braid up into a cap, and grab my forage bag. On the table, under a wooden bowl to protect
it from hungry rats and cats alike, sits a perfect little goat’s 38 cheese wrapped in basil leaves. Prim’s gift to me on reaping
day. 39 I put the cheese carefully in my pocket as 40 I slip outside.
Our 41 part of District 12, nicknamed the Seam, is usually crawling with coal miners heading out to the morning shift at this
hour. Men and women with hunched shoulders, swollen knuckles, 42 many of whom have long since stopped trying to scrub
the coal dust out of their broken nails and the lines of their sunken faces. But today the black cinder 43 streets are empty.
44Shutters on the squat grey houses are closed. The 45 reaping isn’t until two. May as well sleep in. If 46 you can.
When 1 I wake up, the other 2 side of the bed is cold. My 3 fingers stretch out, seeking Prim’s warmth but finding only the
rough canvas cover of the mattress. 4 She must have had bad dreams and climbed in with our mother. Of course 5 she did.
6This is the day of the reaping. 7 I prop myself up on one elbow. There’s enough 8 light in the bedroom to see them. My little
sister, Prim, curled up on her side, cocooned in my mother’s body, their cheeks pressed together. In sleep, my 9 mother looks
younger, still worn but not so beaten-down. Prim’s 10 face is as fresh as a raindrop, as lovely as the primrose for which 11 she
was named. My 12 mother was very beautiful once, too. Or so 13 they tell me.
1. Subordinate (“When” is the subordinating conjunction.)
2. Independent
3. Independent
4. Independent
5. Independent
6. Independent
7. Independent
8. Independent
9. Independent
10. Independent
11. Subordinate (“Which” is the subordinating conjunction.)
12. Independent
13. independent
Sitting at Prim’s knees, guarding her, is the world’s ugliest 14 cat. Mashed-in nose, half of one ear missing, eyes the
colour of rotting squash. 15 Prim named him Buttercup, insisting that his muddy yellow 16 coat matched the bright
flower. 17 He hates me. Or at least distrusts me. Even though 18 it was years ago, 19 I think 20 he still remembers how
21 I tried to drown him in a bucket when 22 Prim brought him home. Scrawny kitten, belly swollen with worms, crawling
with fleas. The last 23 thing 24 I needed was another mouth to feed. But 25 Prim begged so hard, cried even, 26 I had
to let him stay. 27 It turned out OK. My 28 mother got rid of the vermin and 29 he’s a born mouser. Even catches the
occasional rat. Sometimes, when 30 I clean a kill, 31 I feed Buttercup the entrails. 32 He has stopped hissing at me.
14. Independent
15. Independent
16. Dependent (“That” is the subordinating conjunction.)
17. Independent
18. Dependent (“Even though” is the subordinating conjunction.)
19. Independent
20. Dependent (There’s an understood “that” before “he still remembers.”)
21. Independent
22. Dependent (“When” is the subordinating conjunction.)
23. Independent (The independent clause is “The last thing was another mouth to feed.”
24. Dependent (There’s an understood “that” before “I needed.”)
25. Independent (“But” is a COORDINATING conjunction, not a subordinating one.)
26. Dependent (There’s an understood “that” before “I.”)
27. Independent
28. Independent
29. Independent
30. Dependent (“When” is the subordinating conjunction.)
31. Independent
32. Indepenent
Entrails. No hissing. 33 This is the closest 34 we will ever come to love.
35 I swing my legs off the bed and slide into my hunting boots. Supple leather 36 that has moulded to my feet. 37 I pull on
trousers, a shirt, tuck my long dark braid up into a cap, and grab my forage bag. On the table, under a wooden bowl to
protect it from hungry rats and cats alike, sits a perfect little goat’s 38 cheese wrapped in basil leaves. Prim’s gift to me on
reaping day. 39 I put the cheese carefully in my pocket as 40 I slip outside.
Our 41 part of District 12, nicknamed the Seam, is usually crawling with coal miners heading out to the morning shift at this
hour. Men and women with hunched shoulders, swollen knuckles, 42 many of whom have long since stopped trying to
scrub the coal dust out of their broken nails and the lines of their sunken faces. But today the black cinder 43 streets are
empty. 44Shutters on the squat grey houses are closed. The 45 reaping isn’t until two. May as well sleep in. If 46 you can.
33. Independent
34. Dependent (There’s an understood “that” before “we.”)
35. Independent
36. Dependent (“That” is both a subordinating conjunction & the subject of the clause. The problem here is that there’s no
independent clause upon which this one can depend. So what we have is a fragment.)
37. Independent
38. Independent
39. Independent
40. Dependent (“As” is the subordinating conjunction.)
41. Independent
42. Dependent (“Whom” is the subordinating conjunction.)
43. Independent
44. Independent
45. Independent
46. Dependent (“If” is the subordinating conjunction. See #36 for an explanation.)
Subordinate clauses don’t just hang out looking for
something to do; each has one of 3 functions: noun,
adjective, adverb.
I
know
what?
Subject
verb
direct object
I
I
know
know
the truth.
that you’re engaged.
“The truth” & “that you’re engaged” are nouns & do the
same thing: both are the direct object in the sentence.
I know the tall man.
I know the man who is wearing the hat.
In the above sentences, “tall” & “who is
wearing the hat” do the same thing: they tell
us which man. So both are adjectives.
He ran yesterday.
He ran until he was tired.
In the sentences above, “yesterday” & “until he
was tired” answer the same question: WHEN
did he run? So both are adverbs.
ALL dependent clauses are either noun, adjective, or
adverb. If they’re nouns, you can identify them by
seeing if they act as a noun: subject, direct object,
etc. If they’re adjectives, they identify a noun, tell
which one. If they’re adverbs, they answer where,
why, when, how, under what circumstances.
USUALLY, noun clauses start with “what,” “which,” or
“that.”
USUALLY, adjective clauses start with “who,”
“whom,” or “that.”
USUALLY, any clause that doesn’t start with one of
the aforementioned words is an adverb clause.
Also, USUALLY, if you can’t figure out what the
heck the clause is doing, it’s an adverb clause.
Identify the subordinate clause as
noun, adjective, or adverb.
We woke up when we heard the alarm.
Noun
Adjective
Adverb
Wrong.
Correct!
The clause answers the question “when” &
is therefore an adverb clause.
Although we can’t help you, we will help your friend.
Noun
Adjective
Adverb
Wrong.
Correct!
The clause basically answers the question
“under what circumstances” & is therefore
an adverb clause.
Also, remember that if it doesn’t describe a noun (which
this one doesn’t) & doesn’t act as a noun (which this one
doesn’t), it’s an adverb. Sometimes it’s a stretch to figure
out exactly what an adverb clause is answering.
He’s reading the book that we gave him yesterday.
Noun
Adjective
Adverb
Wrong.
Correct!
The clause identifies “book.”
He understands that you can’t help him today.
Noun
Adjective
Adverb
Wrong.
Correct!
The clause is the direct object:
“He understands what?”
“He understands that you can’t…”
The boy always whistles while he rides his bike.
Noun
Adjective
Adverb
Wrong.
Correct!
The clause answers the question “when?”
He can’t stand the girl who won the election.
Noun
Adjective
Adverb
Wrong.
Correct!
The clause identifies “girl.”
The students know where I live.
Noun
Adjective
Adverb
Wrong.
Correct!
The clause is the direct object:
“The students know what?”
“The students know where I live.”
Don’t be fooled by the word “where.” If the clause answers the
question “where,” it’s an adverb clause. But frequently, a clause that
begins with “where” doesn’t answer “where.” Above, it answers the
question “what” and is a noun. In the sentence “I love the country
where I grew up,” it identifies which country and is an adjective. In the
sentence “He goes where he wants,” the clause DOES answer the
question “where” and is therefore an adverb clause.
Your homework has to be finished before you get
to class.
Noun
Adjective
Adverb
Wrong.
Correct!
The clause answers the question “when?”
Then click here to go to a practice exercise.
Then try those linked below.
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Adverbial Clauses
Adverbial Clauses - exercise 2
Adverbial Clauses - exercise 3
Adverbial Clauses - exercise 4
Adverbial Clauses - exercise 5
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Adjectival Clauses
Adjectival Clauses - exercise 2
Adjectival Clauses - exercise 3
Adjectival Clauses - exercise 4
Adjectival Clauses - exercise 5
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Nominal Clauses
Nominal Clauses - exercise 2
Nominal Clauses - exercise 3
Nominal Clauses - exercise 4
Nominal Clauses - exercise 5