By default, we display the extendedTextInteraction with height=54px. You can override the height of the control by adding an additional descriptor to the class attribute. The available overrides are listed in the table below, with their corresponding height values.
| Class Name | Height in Pixels | |
|---|---|---|
| Default height | 54px | |
| Override height classes | height-medium | 108px |
| height-tall | 162px | |
| height-xtratall | 216px | |
| height-xxtratall | 270px | |
| height-xxxtratall | 324px | |
| height-4xtratall | 432px | |
| height-5xtratall | 540px | |
| height-6xtratall | 648px | |
| height-7xtratall | 756px | |
| QTI 3 Standard height overrides | qti-height-lines-3 | 54px |
| qti-height-lines-6 | 108px | |
| qti-height-lines-15 | 270px |
For example, in the interaction below, we set the class to "height-medium":
<extendedTextInteraction class="height-medium" expectedLength="400" responseIdentifier="RESPONSE"/>
You can use the expectedLength attribute in an <extendedTextInteraction> to display a character counter. If expectedLength="0" then
a character counter is not displayed and a maximum of 10,000 characters may be entered. If expectedLength="{integer>0}" then a character counter is displayed and the counter counts down
as you type. In the example below, expectedLength="400" and a character counter of 400 is displayed, counting down to 0.
Note: The default maximum number of characters allowed is 10,000. However, a customer may request an override of the default limit at the customer/site configuration level.
There are scenarios - e.g., where the extended text interaction is used more like a helper tool - where you want the TestNav 8 Client to ignore the extended text interaction in a composite item w/respect to item "answered-ness" on the Client's Test Overview page. To specify this, authors should place "ignore-answered" in the interaction's class attribute; e.g.,
<extendedTextInteraction class="ignore-answered" ...>
| Get Responses: | [ Click Get Responses ] |
<?xml version="1.0" encoding="utf-8" standalone="no"?>
<assessmentItem xmlns="http://www.imsglobal.org/xsd/imsqti_v2p1" xmlns:xsi="http://www.w3.org/2001/XMLSchema-instance"
adaptive="false" identifier="ExtText-Sample-2" label="" timeDependent="false" title="Extended Text Sample 2"
xsi:schemaLocation="http://www.imsglobal.org/xsd/imsqti_v2p1 http://www.imsglobal.org/xsd/imsqti_v2p1.xsd">
<responseDeclaration baseType="string" cardinality="single" identifier="RESPONSE" />
<outcomeDeclaration baseType="float" cardinality="single" identifier="SCORE" />
<itemBody>
<div class="row">
<div class="span6">
<p>Please read the following passage. Then answer the questions.</p>
<div class="passage-scrolling">
<h5>HUMANITIES:</h5>
<p>Whenever a film is adapted from a favorite novel, serious readers of fiction
are prone to say, "Yeah, but the book is better." True partisans of the written
page are always in conflict with those who like their stories cinematically
revealed, projected onto wide screens that illuminate the darkness and pierce
the quiet with surround sound.</p>
<p>I've had to think about this recently because one of my novels is being
developed into an independent feature film, and I was asked to co-write the
screenplay. I had never written dialogue that was naked of narrative, and so I
learned a good deal about what goes into a screenplay and what has to be taken
out of a novel in adapting it into a film.</p>
<p>While certain novelists have successfully written screenplays from their own
books, I'm not sure that there is, generally, a great advantage to having the
author of the novel become part of the filmmaking team. After all, the novelist
may know the story best, but perhaps he or she knows it too well.</p>
<p>Giving art a second life sometimes creates more of a mutant than a clone. This
explains the natural impulse to preserve the story in its original form. Any
adaptation results in something new, and thereby false when compared with the
original.</p>
<p>Yet, the film version may offer its own virtues. Indeed, many films have
outshone the books that inspired them. The fact is, novels and films are entirely
different storytelling experiences. When it comes to making a movie based on a book
(or ultimately watching that movie) being too invested in the integrity of the novel
is probably a bad idea.</p>
<p>A film adaptation that is deemed "faithful" to the novel is not necessarily a
compliment. In the most successful adaptations, liberties are taken; all kinds
of cheating ensues. The artistic license enables great leaps of improvisation.
There are redesigned endings, compressed time periods and newly invented
characters, and often an entirely different storytelling mechanism. Anyone who
read The English Patient before having seen the Academy Award winning movie
remembers shaking his or her head, imagining how in the world Michael
Ondaatje's superbly interior novel could ever sparkle so majestically on the
silver screen.</p>
<p>But what films sacrifice in the small window of opportunity of a movie screen
they make up in artfulness. Montage effects, slow motion, split screens,
close-ups and superimposed images create visual moments that aren't easily
described in prose and are even more difficult to reimagine as a reader. These
filmic devices may be manipulative, but they are often emotionally effective.</p>
<p>Films require dispensing with many secondary characters that fit nicely within
a novel but tend to overcrowd a movie. Sometimes several minor characters of a
novel are consolidated to form one great "composite character" for a film.
Other times, filmmakers change the geography of the novel or story" as in the
short film Bartleby, based on Herman Melville's "Bartleby, the Scrivener," in
which New York was replaced by Los Angeles. The novels of Charles Dickens have
undergone all sorts of reworkings, some bearing only a tenuous connection to
the original story. Great Expectations, for instance, was recently adapted into
a late 20th-century tale with characters renamed and foggy London entirely
lifted and replaced by the clear skies of Florida.</p>
<p>As playwright Anton Chekhov famously instructed, if there is a gun in Act I, it
needs to be fired in Act II, and the same holds true with films. Certain things
have to happen at various markers of a movie, otherwise audiences, expecting
such contrivances, will simply walk out.</p>
<p>Yet, in novels, all kinds of props are abandoned on the page. Not everything
needs to be resolved, not every loose end must be tied up for the novel to be
satisfying. Ambiguity is tolerated much more readily; the impulse toward
linearity (the beginning, middle and end of a story) is almost nonexistent in
modern fiction.</p>
<p>With all these obstacles and risks, you can see why starting from scratch with
an original screenplay makes sense. Other than studio executives, no one has
any great expectations because no one is guarding the central text, hovering
nervously and breathing down the screenwriter's neck.</p>
<p>Ultimately, feature films cannot replicate the experience of reading, nor can
everything about a novel end up being adapted-nor should it be. Filmmaking is
about compromise and concession. It's a miracle they don't toss the book right
out the window.</p>
<p class="cite">This passage is adapted from the article "Yeah, But the
Book Is Better" by Thane Rosenbaum ((c) 2005 by The Forward).</p>
<br />
</div>
</div>
<div class="span6">
<div class="well">
<p>
Lorem ipsum dolor sit amet, consectetur adipiscing elit. Sed commodo orci
nec elit imperdiet interdum. In sed nibh neque.
</p>
<p>
Lorem ipsum dolor sit amet, consectetur adipiscing elit. Sed commodo orci
nec elit imperdiet interdum. In sed nibh neque.
</p>
<extendedTextInteraction class="height-medium" expectedLength="400" responseIdentifier="RESPONSE"/>
</div>
</div>
</div>
</itemBody>
</assessmentItem>
Please read the following passage. Then answer the questions.
Whenever a film is adapted from a favorite novel, serious readers of fiction are prone to say, "Yeah, but the book is better." True partisans of the written page are always in conflict with those who like their stories cinematically revealed, projected onto wide screens that illuminate the darkness and pierce the quiet with surround sound.
I've had to think about this recently because one of my novels is being developed into an independent feature film, and I was asked to co-write the screenplay. I had never written dialogue that was naked of narrative, and so I learned a good deal about what goes into a screenplay and what has to be taken out of a novel in adapting it into a film.
While certain novelists have successfully written screenplays from their own books, I'm not sure that there is, generally, a great advantage to having the author of the novel become part of the filmmaking team. After all, the novelist may know the story best, but perhaps he or she knows it too well.
Giving art a second life sometimes creates more of a mutant than a clone. This explains the natural impulse to preserve the story in its original form. Any adaptation results in something new, and thereby false when compared with the original.
Yet, the film version may offer its own virtues. Indeed, many films have outshone the books that inspired them. The fact is, novels and films are entirely different storytelling experiences. When it comes to making a movie based on a book (or ultimately watching that movie) being too invested in the integrity of the novel is probably a bad idea.
A film adaptation that is deemed "faithful" to the novel is not necessarily a compliment. In the most successful adaptations, liberties are taken; all kinds of cheating ensues. The artistic license enables great leaps of improvisation. There are redesigned endings, compressed time periods and newly invented characters, and often an entirely different storytelling mechanism. Anyone who read The English Patient before having seen the Academy Award winning movie remembers shaking his or her head, imagining how in the world Michael Ondaatje's superbly interior novel could ever sparkle so majestically on the silver screen.
But what films sacrifice in the small window of opportunity of a movie screen they make up in artfulness. Montage effects, slow motion, split screens, close-ups and superimposed images create visual moments that aren't easily described in prose and are even more difficult to reimagine as a reader. These filmic devices may be manipulative, but they are often emotionally effective.
Films require dispensing with many secondary characters that fit nicely within a novel but tend to overcrowd a movie. Sometimes several minor characters of a novel are consolidated to form one great "composite character" for a film. Other times, filmmakers change the geography of the novel or story" as in the short film Bartleby, based on Herman Melville's "Bartleby, the Scrivener," in which New York was replaced by Los Angeles. The novels of Charles Dickens have undergone all sorts of reworkings, some bearing only a tenuous connection to the original story. Great Expectations, for instance, was recently adapted into a late 20th-century tale with characters renamed and foggy London entirely lifted and replaced by the clear skies of Florida.
As playwright Anton Chekhov famously instructed, if there is a gun in Act I, it needs to be fired in Act II, and the same holds true with films. Certain things have to happen at various markers of a movie, otherwise audiences, expecting such contrivances, will simply walk out.
Yet, in novels, all kinds of props are abandoned on the page. Not everything needs to be resolved, not every loose end must be tied up for the novel to be satisfying. Ambiguity is tolerated much more readily; the impulse toward linearity (the beginning, middle and end of a story) is almost nonexistent in modern fiction.
With all these obstacles and risks, you can see why starting from scratch with an original screenplay makes sense. Other than studio executives, no one has any great expectations because no one is guarding the central text, hovering nervously and breathing down the screenwriter's neck.
Ultimately, feature films cannot replicate the experience of reading, nor can everything about a novel end up being adapted-nor should it be. Filmmaking is about compromise and concession. It's a miracle they don't toss the book right out the window.
This passage is adapted from the article "Yeah, But the Book Is Better" by Thane Rosenbaum ((c) 2005 by The Forward).
Lorem ipsum dolor sit amet, consectetur adipiscing elit. Sed commodo orci nec elit imperdiet interdum. In sed nibh neque.
Lorem ipsum dolor sit amet, consectetur adipiscing elit. Sed commodo orci nec elit imperdiet interdum. In sed nibh neque.