ADV. 1 – 2017 VIEWPOINT

pres. perct x pres. perfect continuous

http://www.ego4u.com/en/cram-up/grammar/prepersim-preperpro

WHAT  DO  YOU  SEE  HERE?

WHICH   GAMES  WOULD  YOU  RATHER  PLAY  WITH  A  FRIEND?  WHY?

         

HOW  TO  END  A  FRIENDSHIP:

Once you’ve determined your reason(s), you must prep for the hard part: telling your friend that you’d like to end the friendship. Here are a few tips:

Be there: If you are in the same city, schedule a time to meet in person. Sure, speaking on the phone or — God forbid — sending a text is easier, but you are better than that. You are.

Hi, Martha. Can we meet for coffee sometime this week?

This is much better than an email detailing your complaints and your desire to call it quits.

Be prepared: Be confident in the reasons behind your decision, and be clear on what you want to happen next. Is your goal to end the friendship permanently or would you be open to a different type of relationship with this person? Understand that your friend may be completely surprised by the conversation and may have ideas on how to recreate the relationship so it fits for both of you. If that’s a possibility for you, be ready to address it. If it is not, stand firm.

Martha, I have really given this a lot of thought and I have to do what is best for me.

Be honest: Start the conversation with you and how you feel, versus telling them what they have done. Saying something like:

I’ve noticed our friendship has changed over the past few months, and I wanted to talk to you about it because it’s been bothering me for a while.

This is so much better than saying something like:

Your husband is dumber than a sponge and you made a huge mistake in marrying him.

Am I right? (I am.)

Be kind: Henry James said; “Three things in human life are important: the first is to be kind; the second is to be kind; and the third is to be kind.” There is no need to attack and no need to be unkind. You can be honest and still be kind, because hearing this:

Martha, I think it is sad that our friendship has come to an end, and I truly wish you only the best in the future.

This goes a really long way in maintaining your dignity and Martha’s self-esteem.

Be good to yourself: However the conversation ends, remind yourself that you put time and thought into your decision and did what was right for you. You may be sad or angry or frustrated, and that’s normal. But if you were able to speak from the heart and be kind and gracious in the process, you will be okay. Not as okay as Neil Sedaka’s bank statement, but okay nonetheless.

Composition: Summarize the following text about ending a freiendship  and tell the one you most agree with. Justify (110 words)

WHICH  WAY  OF  ENDING  A  FRIENDSHIP DO  YOU MOST  AGREE  WITH?

Ending a Friendship Through Email

Ideally, you should never have any kind of break up through email, but the reality is that many people do. Sometimes it is simply impossible to talk things out with a friend. When your friend won’t listen, you can send an email to break up. Some things to keep in mind, however:

  • Make the email short and to the point. Don’t pour out your heart because your friend will feel bombarded.
  • Don’t initiate an email fight. Sending nasty emails back and forth will only leave you both feeling horrible about your friendship.
  • Emphasize the reason you feel you need to end the friendship, what you appreciated about your friend, and that you wish them the best.
  • Focus on specific events and how they made you feel, rather than assuming why your friend did the things they did.

Breaking Up in Person

Depending on the length and closeness of your friendship, you may want to break up in person. This is especially important if your friend has been dear to you in the past. Think of it this way, giving positive energy to the end of your friendship will help you find a new one that much easier and without baggage like anger and resentment. If you end things positively, you’ll be better able to get closure on the loss of your friendship.

To initiate the break up, sit down at a convenient time for both of you and talk about the past issues which have lead you to the current situation. Even though you are ending your relationship, keep your discussion healthy. It doesn’t pay to name call or be nasty.

Let Your Friend Know It Is Over

Be sure to make your break up intentions clear to your friend, or they may walk away with the impression that you’re still friends. After you talk about the issues that have made your friendship unravel, let them know this is the end. Say something like:

  • “Based on the things we’ve talked about, I can no longer continue with our friendship. It makes me sad to say goodbye to you, but I feel our friendship has changed quite a lot and we aren’t close anymore.”
  • “I will remember the great times we have had, and I wish you the best. I will always care about you as a friend but we can no longer hang out together.”

Allow Your Friend to Process the Break Up

Your friend may be in denial that your relationship is ending, so give them some time to process everything. They may have questions or want clarification on what they did wrong, so be sure to be patient and understanding. Ending a friendship in a calm manner is no small task! But in the long run you’ll be happier you did it that way.

 

LISTENING EXERCISES:

http://www.esl-lab.com/expense/expenserd1.htm

HOW TO WRITE AN ASSAY

DICTIONARY

tp://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uhOf-CN7xRc

Ray Bradbury. The Veldt
“George, I wish you’d look at the nursery.”
“What’s wrong with it?”
“I don’t know.”
“Well, then.”
“I just want you to look at it, is all, or call a psychologist in to
look at it.”
“What would a psychologist want with a nursery?”
“You know very well what he’d want.” His wife paused in the middle of
the kitchen and watched the stove busy humming to itself, making supper for
four.
“It’s just that the nursery is different now than it was.”
“All right, let’s have a look.”
They walked down the hall of their soundproofed Happylife Home, which
had cost them thirty thousand dollars installed, this house which clothed
and fed and rocked them to sleep and played and sang and was good to them.
Their approach sensitized a switch somewhere and the nursery light flicked
on when they came within ten feet of it. Similarly, behind them, in the
halls, lights went on and off as they left them behind, with a soft
automaticity.
“Well,” said George Hadley.
They stood on the thatched floor of the nursery. It was forty feet
across by forty feet long and thirty feet high; it had cost half again as
much as the rest of the house. “But nothing’s too good for our children,”
George had said.
The nursery was silent. It was empty as a jungle glade at hot high
noon. The walls were blank and two dimensional. Now, as George and Lydia
Hadley stood in the center of the room, the walls began to purr and recede
into crystalline distance, it seemed, and presently an African veldt
appeared, in three dimensions, on all sides, in color reproduced to the
final pebble and bit of straw. The ceiling above them became a deep sky with
a hot yellow sun.
George Hadley felt the perspiration start on his brow.
“Let’s get out of this sun,” he said. “This is a little too real. But I
don’t see anything wrong.”
“Wait a moment, you’ll see,” said his wife.
Now the hidden odorophonics were beginning to blow a wind of odor at
the two people in the middle of the baked veldtland. The hot straw smell of
lion grass, the cool green smell of the hidden water hole, the great rusty
smell of animals, the smell of dust like a red paprika in the hot air. And
now the sounds: the thump of distant antelope feet on grassy sod, the papery
rustling of vultures. A shadow passed through the sky. The shadow flickered
on George Hadley’s upturned, sweating face.
“Filthy creatures,” he heard his wife say.
“The vultures.”
“You see, there are the lions, far over, that way. Now they’re on their
way to the water hole. They’ve just been eating,” said Lydia. “I don’t know
what.”
“Some animal.” George Hadley put his hand up to shield off the burning
light from his squinted eyes. “A zebra or a baby giraffe, maybe.”
“Are you sure?” His wife sounded peculiarly tense.
“No, it’s a little late to be sure,” be said, amused. “Nothing over
there I can see but cleaned bone, and the vultures dropping for what’s
left.”
“Did you bear that scream?” she asked.
‘No.”
“About a minute ago?”
“Sorry, no.”
The lions were coming. And again George Hadley was filled with
admiration for the mechanical genius who had conceived this room. A miracle
of efficiency selling for an absurdly low price. Every home should have one.
Oh, occasionally they frightened you with their clinical accuracy, they
startled you, gave you a twinge, but most of the time what fun for everyone,
not only your own son and daughter, but for yourself when you felt like a
quick jaunt to a foreign land, a quick change of scenery. Well, here it was!
And here were the lions now, fifteen feet away, so real, so feverishly
and startlingly real that you could feel the prickling fur on your hand, and
your mouth was stuffed with the dusty upholstery smell of their heated
pelts, and the yellow of them was in your eyes like the yellow of an
exquisite French tapestry, the yellows of lions and summer grass, and the
sound of the matted lion lungs exhaling on the silent noontide, and the
smell of meat from the panting, dripping mouths.
The lions stood looking at George and Lydia Hadley with terrible
green-yellow eyes.
“Watch out!” screamed Lydia.
The lions came running at them.
Lydia bolted and ran. Instinctively, George sprang after her. Outside,
in the hall, with the door slammed he was laughing and she was crying, and
they both stood appalled at the other’s reaction.
“George!”
“Lydia! Oh, my dear poor sweet Lydia!”
“They almost got us!”
“Walls, Lydia, remember; crystal walls, that’s all they are. Oh, they
look real, I must admit – Africa in your parlor – but it’s all dimensional,
superreactionary, supersensitive color film and mental tape film behind
glass screens. It’s all odorophonics and sonics, Lydia. Here’s my
handkerchief.”
“I’m afraid.” She came to him and put her body against him and cried
steadily. “Did you see? Did you feel? It’s too real.”
“Now, Lydia…”
“You’ve got to tell Wendy and Peter not to read any more on Africa.”
“Of course – of course.” He patted her.
“Promise?”
“Sure.”
“And lock the nursery for a few days until I get my nerves settled.”
“You know how difficult Peter is about that. When I punished him a
month ago by locking the nursery for even a few hours – the tantrum be
threw! And Wendy too. They live for the nursery.”
“It’s got to be locked, that’s all there is to it.”
“All right.” Reluctantly he locked the huge door. “You’ve been working
too hard. You need a rest.”
“I don’t know – I don’t know,” she said, blowing her nose, sitting down
in a chair that immediately began to rock and comfort her. “Maybe I don’t
have enough to do. Maybe I have time to think too much. Why don’t we shut
the whole house off for a few days and take a vacation?”
“You mean you want to fry my eggs for me?”
“Yes.” She nodded.
“And dam my socks?”
“Yes.” A frantic, watery-eyed nodding.
“And sweep the house?”
“Yes, yes – oh, yes!”
“But I thought that’s why we bought this house, so we wouldn’t have to
do anything?”
“That’s just it. I feel like I don’t belong here. The house is wife and
mother now, and nursemaid. Can I compete with an African veldt? Can I give a
bath and scrub the children as efficiently or quickly as the automatic scrub
bath can? I cannot. And it isn’t just me. It’s you. You’ve been awfully
nervous lately.”
“I suppose I have been smoking too much.”
“You look as if you didn’t know what to do with yourself in this house,
either. You smoke a little more every morning and drink a little more every
afternoon and need a little more sedative every night. You’re beginning to
feel unnecessary too.”
“Am I?” He paused and tried to feel into himself to see what was really
there.
“Oh, George!” She looked beyond him, at the nursery door. “Those lions
can’t get out of there, can they?”
He looked at the door and saw it tremble as if something had jumped
against it from the other side.
“Of course not,” he said.
At dinner they ate alone, for Wendy and Peter were at a special plastic
carnival across town and bad televised home to say they’d be late, to go
ahead eating. So George Hadley, bemused, sat watching the dining-room table
produce warm dishes of food from its mechanical interior.
“We forgot the ketchup,” he said.
“Sorry,” said a small voice within the table, and ketchup appeared.
As for the nursery, thought George Hadley, it won’t hurt for the
children to be locked out of it awhile. Too much of anything isn’t good for
anyone. And it was clearly indicated that the children had been spending a
little too much time on Africa. That sun. He could feel it on his neck,
still, like a hot paw. And the lions. And the smell of blood. Remarkable how
the nursery caught the telepathic emanations of the children’s minds and
created life to fill their every desire. The children thought lions, and
there were lions. The children thought zebras, and there were zebras. Sun –
sun. Giraffes – giraffes. Death and death.
That last. He chewed tastelessly on the meat that the table bad cut for
him. Death thoughts. They were awfully young, Wendy and Peter, for death
thoughts. Or, no, you were never too young, really. Long before you knew
what death was you were wishing it on someone else. When you were two years
old you were shooting people with cap pistols.
But this – the long, hot African veldt-the awful death in the jaws of a
lion. And repeated again and again.
“Where are you going?”
He didn’t answer Lydia. Preoccupied, be let the lights glow softly on
ahead of him, extinguish behind him as he padded to the nursery door. He
listened against it. Far away, a lion roared.
He unlocked the door and opened it. Just before he stepped inside, he
heard a faraway scream. And then another roar from the lions, which subsided
quickly.
He stepped into Africa. How many times in the last year had he opened
this door and found Wonderland, Alice, the Mock Turtle, or Aladdin and his
Magical Lamp, or Jack Pumpkinhead of Oz, or Dr. Doolittle, or the cow
jumping over a very real-appearing moon-all the delightful contraptions of a
make-believe world. How often had he seen Pegasus flying in the sky ceiling,
or seen fountains of red fireworks, or heard angel voices singing. But now,
is yellow hot Africa, this bake oven with murder in the heat. Perhaps Lydia
was right. Perhaps they needed a little vacation from the fantasy which was
growing a bit too real for ten-year-old children. It was all right to
exercise one’s mind with gymnastic fantasies, but when the lively child mind
settled on one pattern… ? It seemed that, at a distance, for the past
month, he had heard lions roaring, and smelled their strong odor seeping as
far away as his study door. But, being busy, he had paid it no attention.
George Hadley stood on the African grassland alone. The lions looked up
from their feeding, watching him. The only flaw to the illusion was the open
door through which he could see his wife, far down the dark hall, like a
framed picture, eating her dinner abstractedly.
“Go away,” he said to the lions.
They did not go.
He knew the principle of the room exactly. You sent out your thoughts.
Whatever you thought would appear. “Let’s have Aladdin and his lamp,” he
snapped. The veldtland remained; the lions remained.
“Come on, room! I demand Aladin!” he said.
Nothing happened. The lions mumbled in their baked pelts.
“Aladin!”
He went back to dinner. “The fool room’s out of order,” he said. “It
won’t respond.”
“Or–”
“Or what?”
“Or it can’t respond,” said Lydia, “because the children have thought
about Africa and lions and killing so many days that the room’s in a rut.”
“Could be.”
“Or Peter’s set it to remain that way.”
“Set it?”
“He may have got into the machinery and fixed something.”
“Peter doesn’t know machinery.”
“He’s a wise one for ten. That I.Q. of his -”
“Nevertheless -”
“Hello, Mom. Hello, Dad.”
The Hadleys turned. Wendy and Peter were coming in the front door,
cheeks like peppermint candy, eyes like bright blue agate marbles, a smell
of ozone on their jumpers from their trip in the helicopter.
“You’re just in time for supper,” said both parents.
“We’re full of strawberry ice cream and hot dogs,” said the children,
holding hands. “But we’ll sit and watch.”
“Yes, come tell us about the nursery,” said George Hadley.
The brother and sister blinked at him and then at each other.
“Nursery?”
“All about Africa and everything,” said the father with false
joviality.
“I don’t understand,” said Peter.
“Your mother and I were just traveling through Africa with rod and
reel; Tom Swift and his Electric Lion,” said George Hadley.
“There’s no Africa in the nursery,” said Peter simply.
“Oh, come now, Peter. We know better.”
“I don’t remember any Africa,” said Peter to Wendy. “Do you?”
“No.”
“Run see and come tell.”
She obeyed
“Wendy, come back here!” said George Hadley, but she was gone. The
house lights followed her like a flock of fireflies. Too late, he realized
he had forgotten to lock the nursery door after his last inspection.
“Wendy’ll look and come tell us,” said Peter.
“She doesn’t have to tell me. I’ve seen it.”
“I’m sure you’re mistaken, Father.”
“I’m not, Peter. Come along now.”
But Wendy was back. “It’s not Africa,” she said breathlessly.
“We’ll see about this,” said George Hadley, and they all walked down
the hall together and opened the nursery door.
There was a green, lovely forest, a lovely river, a purple mountain,
high voices singing, and Rima, lovely and mysterious, lurking in the trees
with colorful flights of butterflies, like animated bouquets, lingering in
her long hair. The African veldtland was gone. The lions were gone. Only
Rima was here now, singing a song so beautiful that it brought tears to your
eyes.
George Hadley looked in at the changed scene. “Go to bed,” he said to
the children.
They opened their mouths.
“You heard me,” he said.
They went off to the air closet, where a wind sucked them like brown
leaves up the flue to their slumber rooms.
George Hadley walked through the singing glade and picked up something
that lay in the comer near where the lions had been. He walked slowly back
to his wife.
“What is that?” she asked.
“An old wallet of mine,” he said.
He showed it to her. The smell of hot grass was on it and the smell of
a lion. There were drops of saliva on it, it bad been chewed, and there were
blood smears on both sides.
He closed the nursery door and locked it, tight.
In the middle of the night he was still awake and he knew his wife was
awake. “Do you think Wendy changed it?” she said at last, in the dark room.
“Of course.”
“Made it from a veldt into a forest and put Rima there instead of
lions?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know. But it’s staying locked until I find out.”
“How did your wallet get there?”
“I don’t know anything,” he said, “except that I’m beginning to be
sorry we bought that room for the children. If children are neurotic at all,
a room like that -”
“It’s supposed to help them work off their neuroses in a healthful
way.”
“I’m starting to wonder.” He stared at the ceiling.
“We’ve given the children everything they ever wanted. Is this our
reward-secrecy, disobedience?”
“Who was it said, ‘Children are carpets, they should be stepped on
occasionally’? We’ve never lifted a hand. They’re insufferable – let’s admit
it. They come and go when they like; they treat us as if we were offspring.
They’re spoiled and we’re spoiled.”
“They’ve been acting funny ever since you forbade them to take the
rocket to New York a few months ago.”
“They’re not old enough to do that alone, I explained.”
“Nevertheless, I’ve noticed they’ve been decidedly cool toward us
since.”
“I think I’ll have David McClean come tomorrow morning to have a look
at Africa.”
“But it’s not Africa now, it’s Green Mansions country and Rima.”
“I have a feeling it’ll be Africa again before then.”
A moment later they heard the screams.
Two screams. Two people screaming from downstairs. And then a roar of
lions.
“Wendy and Peter aren’t in their rooms,” said his wife.
He lay in his bed with his beating heart. “No,” he said. “They’ve
broken into the nursery.”
“Those screams – they sound familiar.”
“Do they?”
“Yes, awfully.”
And although their beds tried very bard, the two adults couldn’t be
rocked to sleep for another hour. A smell of cats was in the night air.
“Father?” said Peter.
“Yes.”
Peter looked at his shoes. He never looked at his father any more, nor
at his mother. “You aren’t going to lock up the nursery for good, are you?”
“That all depends.”
“On what?” snapped Peter.
“On you and your sister. If you intersperse this Africa with a little
variety – oh, Sweden perhaps, or Denmark or China -”
“I thought we were free to play as we wished.”
“You are, within reasonable bounds.”
“What’s wrong with Africa, Father?”
“Oh, so now you admit you have been conjuring up Africa, do you?”
“I wouldn’t want the nursery locked up,” said Peter coldly. “Ever.”
“Matter of fact, we’re thinking of turning the whole house off for
about a month. Live sort of a carefree one-for-all existence.”
“That sounds dreadful! Would I have to tie my own shoes instead of
letting the shoe tier do it? And brush my own teeth and comb my hair and
give myself a bath?”
“It would be fun for a change, don’t you think?”
“No, it would be horrid. I didn’t like it when you took out the picture
painter last month.”
“That’s because I wanted you to learn to paint all by yourself, son.”
“I don’t want to do anything but look and listen and smell; what else
is there to do?”
“All right, go play in Africa.”
“Will you shut off the house sometime soon?”
“We’re considering it.”
“I don’t think you’d better consider it any more, Father.”
“I won’t have any threats from my son!”
“Very well.” And Peter strolled off to the nursery.
“Am I on time?” said David McClean.
“Breakfast?” asked George Hadley.
“Thanks, had some. What’s the trouble?”
“David, you’re a psychologist.”
“I should hope so.”
“Well, then, have a look at our nursery. You saw it a year ago when you
dropped by; did you notice anything peculiar about it then?”
“Can’t say I did; the usual violences, a tendency toward a slight
paranoia here or there, usual in children because they feel persecuted by
parents constantly, but, oh, really nothing.”
They walked down the ball. “I locked the nursery up,” explained the
father, “and the children broke back into it during the night. I let them
stay so they could form the patterns for you to see.”
There was a terrible screaming from the nursery.
“There it is,” said George Hadley. “See what you make of it.”
They walked in on the children without rapping.
The screams had faded. The lions were feeding.
“Run outside a moment, children,” said George Hadley. “No, don’t change
the mental combination. Leave the walls as they are. Get!”
With the children gone, the two men stood studying the lions clustered
at a distance, eating with great relish whatever it was they had caught.
“I wish I knew what it was,” said George Hadley. “Sometimes I can
almost see. Do you think if I brought high-powered binoculars here and -”
David McClean laughed dryly. “Hardly.” He turned to study all four
walls. “How long has this been going on?”
“A little over a month.”
“It certainly doesn’t feel good.”
“I want facts, not feelings.”
“My dear George, a psychologist never saw a fact in his life. He only
hears about feelings; vague things. This doesn’t feel good, I tell you.
Trust my hunches and my instincts. I have a nose for something bad. This is
very bad. My advice to you is to have the whole damn room torn down and your
children brought to me every day during the next year for treatment.”
“Is it that bad?”
“I’m afraid so. One of the original uses of these nurseries was so that
we could study the patterns left on the walls by the child’s mind, study at
our leisure, and help the child. In this case, however, the room has become
a channel toward-destructive thoughts, instead of a release away from them.”
“Didn’t you sense this before?”
“I sensed only that you bad spoiled your children more than most. And
now you’re letting them down in some way. What way?”
“I wouldn’t let them go to New York.”
“What else?”
“I’ve taken a few machines from the house and threatened them, a month
ago, with closing up the nursery unless they did their homework. I did close
it for a few days to show I meant business.”
“Ah, ha!”
“Does that mean anything?”
“Everything. Where before they had a Santa Claus now they have a
Scrooge. Children prefer Santas. You’ve let this room and this house replace
you and your wife in your children’s affections. This room is their mother
and father, far more important in their lives than their real parents. And
now you come along and want to shut it off. No wonder there’s hatred here.
You can feel it coming out of the sky. Feel that sun. George, you’ll have to
change your life. Like too many others, you’ve built it around creature
comforts. Why, you’d starve tomorrow if something went wrong in your
kitchen. You wouldn’t know bow to tap an egg. Nevertheless, turn everything
off. Start new. It’ll take time. But we’ll make good children out of bad in
a year, wait and see.”
“But won’t the shock be too much for the children, shutting the room up
abruptly, for good?”
“I don’t want them going any deeper into this, that’s all.”
The lions were finished with their red feast.
The lions were standing on the edge of the clearing watching the two
men.
“Now I’m feeling persecuted,” said McClean. “Let’s get out of here. I
never have cared for these damned rooms. Make me nervous.”
“The lions look real, don’t they?” said George Hadley. I don’t suppose
there’s any way -”
“What?”
“- that they could become real?”
“Not that I know.”
“Some flaw in the machinery, a tampering or something?”
“No.”
They went to the door.
“I don’t imagine the room will like being turned off,” said the father.
“Nothing ever likes to die – even a room.”
“I wonder if it hates me for wanting to switch it off?”
“Paranoia is thick around here today,” said David McClean. “You can
follow it like a spoor. Hello.” He bent and picked up a bloody scarf. “This
yours?”
“No.” George Hadley’s face was rigid. “It belongs to Lydia.”
They went to the fuse box together and threw the switch that killed the
nursery.
The two children were in hysterics. They screamed and pranced and threw
things. They yelled and sobbed and swore and jumped at the furniture.
“You can’t do that to the nursery, you can’t!”
“Now, children.”
The children flung themselves onto a couch, weeping.
“George,” said Lydia Hadley, “turn on the nursery, just for a few
moments. You can’t be so abrupt.”
“No.”
“You can’t be so cruel…”
“Lydia, it’s off, and it stays off. And the whole damn house dies as of
here and now. The more I see of the mess we’ve put ourselves in, the more it
sickens me. We’ve been contemplating our mechanical, electronic navels for
too long. My God, how we need a breath of honest air!”
And he marched about the house turning off the voice clocks, the
stoves, the heaters, the shoe shiners, the shoe lacers, the body scrubbers
and swabbers and massagers, and every other machine be could put his hand
to.
The house was full of dead bodies, it seemed. It felt like a mechanical
cemetery. So silent. None of the humming hidden energy of machines waiting
to function at the tap of a button.
“Don’t let them do it!” wailed Peter at the ceiling, as if he was
talking to the house, the nursery. “Don’t let Father kill everything.” He
turned to his father. “Oh, I hate you!”
“Insults won’t get you anywhere.”
“I wish you were dead!”
“We were, for a long while. Now we’re going to really start living.
Instead of being handled and massaged, we’re going to live.”
Wendy was still crying and Peter joined her again. “Just a moment, just
one moment, just another moment of nursery,” they wailed.
“Oh, George,” said the wife, “it can’t hurt.”
“All right – all right, if they’ll just shut up. One minute, mind you,
and then off forever.”
“Daddy, Daddy, Daddy!” sang the children, smiling with wet faces.
“And then we’re going on a vacation. David McClean is coming back in
half an hour to help us move out and get to the airport. I’m going to dress.
You turn the nursery on for a minute, Lydia, just a minute, mind you.”
And the three of them went babbling off while he let himself be
vacuumed upstairs through the air flue and set about dressing himself. A
minute later Lydia appeared.
“I’ll be glad when we get away,” she sighed.
“Did you leave them in the nursery?”
“I wanted to dress too. Oh, that horrid Africa. What can they see in
it?”
“Well, in five minutes we’ll be on our way to Iowa. Lord, how did we
ever get in this house? What prompted us to buy a nightmare?”
“Pride, money, foolishness.”
“I think we’d better get downstairs before those kids get engrossed
with those damned beasts again.”
Just then they heard the children calling, “Daddy, Mommy, come quick –
quick!”
They went downstairs in the air flue and ran down the hall. The
children were nowhere in sight. “Wendy? Peter!”
They ran into the nursery. The veldtland was empty save for the lions
waiting, looking at them. “Peter, Wendy?”
The door slammed.
“Wendy, Peter!”
George Hadley and his wife whirled and ran back to the door.
“Open the door!” cried George Hadley, trying the knob. “Why, they’ve
locked it from the outside! Peter!” He beat at the door. “Open up!”
He heard Peter’s voice outside, against the door.
“Don’t let them switch off the nursery and the house,” he was saying.
Mr. and Mrs. George Hadley beat at the door. “Now, don’t be ridiculous,
children. It’s time to go. Mr. McClean’ll be here in a minute and…”
And then they heard the sounds.
The lions on three sides of them, in the yellow veldt grass, padding
through the dry straw, rumbling and roaring in their throats.
The lions.
Mr. Hadley looked at his wife and they turned and looked back at the
beasts edging slowly forward crouching, tails stiff.
Mr. and Mrs. Hadley screamed.
And suddenly they realized why those other screams bad sounded
familiar.
“Well, here I am,” said David McClean in the nursery doorway, “Oh,
hello.” He stared at the two children seated in the center of the open glade
eating a little picnic lunch. Beyond them was the water hole and the yellow
veldtland; above was the hot sun. He began to perspire. “Where are your
father and mother?”
The children looked up and smiled. “Oh, they’ll be here directly.”
“Good, we must get going.” At a distance Mr. McClean saw the lions
fighting and clawing and then quieting down to feed in silence under the
shady trees.
He squinted at the lions with his hand tip to his eyes.
Now the lions were done feeding. They moved to the water hole to drink.
A shadow flickered over Mr. McClean’s hot face. Many shadows flickered.
The vultures were dropping down the blazing sky.
“A cup of tea?” asked Wendy in the silence.

 

 

 

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TV   PROS  AND  CONS

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PROS  AND  CONS OF  WATCHING  TV

Many of us love watching TV especially during our free time and if we don’t have anything to do. We like watching TV while eating our favorite snacks or hanging around in a friend’s place. Either way we are entertained when we watch TV. There are many different programs we can watch on TV depending on our mood and our personality. Some love watching comedy and talk shows while others particularly kids and those who are young at heart love watching cartoons on Cartoon Network or Disney channel.

But then, watching TV has its advantages and disadvantages. Experts say that too much watching of TV especially among children is not good for the health and the mind. TV can be entertaining and informative yet at times it can be damaging and harmful.

Below are the Pros and Cons of watching TV.

Article Source: http://EzineArticles.com/5242576

1.) Entertainment and Laughter
We are entertained by shows we love to watch. We laugh at things we find funny and comical in the TV program we are watching. We also love to dance or sing along with celebrities we see on TV and some of us even copy their dance moves and singing styles.

2.) Information and How-To
We learn a lot of information about places and people that we usually don’t learn on magazines, books and newspapers. There are travel shows that show us beautiful places in the world and inform us the culture of different countries which can be a great help especially if we are planning to travel. We also easily learn how to cook new recipes by watching cooking shows and we can learn doing some other stuff through programs that show step-by-step procedures of performing a particular work, exercise or other interesting stuff.

3.) Improve Memory and Easy Learning
We usually take note of the time schedule for our favorite programs especially if it is only shown once or twice a week. We tend to store and recall the things that recently happened in our favorite show before the next episode will be shown on TV. This will help enhance our memory which we can apply on our daily life. For children, it is easier to learn math, science, alphabet and other subject matters if someone can show them how to do it like counting, identifying objects and a lot more. Educational TV shows are available for children to watch and learn.

4.) Bonding With Family and Friends
Watching TV is a great way to bond with family and friends especially on weekends. You can laugh and discuss things that you see on TV. That can be really fun.

5.) Awareness and Alertness
Weather reports and current news on different parts of the worlds can make you aware of what is happening outside your country. You can also be alert when there is an incoming typhoon in your area and that can help you get prepared.

Cons:
1.) Decline in creativity and imagination.
TV shows including commercials have tendency to share their creative works on us and impart their ideas and opinions on us which is not favorable and can lead to a decline in our creativity and imagination since we can not think on our own since creative stuff are readily available and shared to us.

2.) Health problems
We usually eat junk foods or any of our favorite snacks while watching TV. This is not good for our health because we tend to eat a lot while we are sitting down facing the television. This can lead to obesity since we don’t move a lot when we watch TV. This can also lead to other serious ailments caused by eating a lot and moving less.

3.) Makes people lazy
Most of us get hooked when watching programs of our favorite TV channel. We sometimes even forget to do our work or other important things because we got engaged in the show we are watching. Some people forget to do their household chores because they would rather watch TV than work.

4.) Some shows don’t teach good values.
There are TV programs that do not teach good values particularly to children. Instead of teaching them good deeds they even imitate, re-enact or spoof important things happening around us which is not good for children to watch.

To sum up, in watching TV you should choose and monitor the TV programs that you and your children should watch. Choose programs that can help you learn and grow as a person. You should also limit the time your children spend in watching TV. The maximum number of hours small kids should watch TV is 3 hours while for teenagers you should make sure they watch good shows only when they are done with homework and projects.

Do you love watching TV? Would you like to watch your favorite TV shows on your personal computer? Its is now possible through a satellite TV software. Check out this link to learn more –> http://www.squidoo.com/satellitetvsoftware.

Article Source: http://EzineArticles.com/?expert=Jimmy_Hermann

ANGELINA  JOLIE’S  SPEECH  AT  OSCAR

 

Angelina Jolie’s Speech – Worksheet! !
“Thank you. Thank you so much. It’s quite overwhelming! Thanks to the members of the Academy,
dear friends who are here tonight, Jannah and George for your kind words. To my hero Louis
Antorine. And most of all to my family. My love, your [1] __________ and your guidance, make
everything that I do possible.!
Mad, I’m not gonna cry, I promise. I would embarrass you. You and your brothers and your [2]
__________ are my happiness. And there is no greater honor in this world than being your mom.!
I am very humble to be here tonight among so many extraordinary artists. !
My mother loved art, she loved film. She supported any [3] _________ thing I did but whenever it
had meaning she made a point of telling me that is what film is for.!
She had never a [4] __________ as an artist. She had never the opportunity to express herself
beyond her theater class. But she wanted, more than for herself. She wanted for Jamie and I to
know what it is to have a life as artists.!
She gave us that [5] _________. She drove me to every audition. And she would wait in the car for
hours. Always make me feel [6] ____________ good all the times I didn’t get the job. And when I
did, we would jump up and down and scream and yell like little girls.!
She wasn’t really the best [7] ___________. Since she never had anything unkind to say. But she
did give me love and confidence. And above all, she was very clear that nothing would mean
anything if I didn’t have a life of use to others.!
I didn’t know what that meant for a long time. I came into this business young and worried about
my own [8] _____________, my own pain. And it was only when I began to travel and look and live
beyond my home that I understand my responsibility to others.!
When I met survivors of war and famine, and rape. I learned what life is like for [9] __________
people in this world and how fortunate I was to have food to eat, roof over my head, a safe place to
live and the joy of having my family safe and [10] ___________ . And I realized how sheltered I
had been and I was determined never to be that way again.!
We are all, everyone in this room, so fortunate.!
I have never understood why some people are [11] ____________ enough to be born with the
chance that I had, to have this path in life, and why across the world, there is a woman just like me,
with the same abilities and the same [12] ___________ , same work ethic and love for her family,
who would most likely make better films and better speeches, only she sits in a refugee camp and
she has no voice. She worries about what her children will eat, how to keep them safe and if they
will ever be allowed to [13] _________ home. I don’t understand why this is my life and that is hers.
I don’t understand that but I will do as my mother asks and I will do the best I can with this life to be
of use and to stand here today means that I did as she asked and if she were [14] ____________,
she’d be very proud. So thank you for that.! ! ! ! ! ! ! !
! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! !

 

Short story review: “The Veldt” by Ray Bradbury

The Veldt” by Ray Bradbury is a dark tale about a futuristic world. Two parents have given their children everything: a home that takes care of them, a nursery that bends to their every whim, a rocket for everyday use. George and Lydia have become reliant on their house. It rocks them to sleep at night. It ties their shoes. It makes their food. It basically does all of the things that they should be doing as adults and parents.

Needless to say, 10-year old twins Wendy and Peter love their house. They especially love their nursery, a sort of imaginarium, where anything they imagine comes to life instantly–all they must do is think it. It seems as real as real could be, down to the smells, the feel of the ground, the warmth of the sun on a summer’s day.

George and Lydia grow worried when the nursery’s interior changes: no longer do they see Aladdin and his lamp, or the cow jumping over the moon. Instead, an African veldt (or plain) has emerged, and it won’t go away. They also are beginning to feel the wear of their technology-filled lives: the house has become wife and mother, bemoans Lydia. They (with the help of psychologist David McLean) realize that they are becoming unnecessary in their own home thanks to all that it can do, and they have been–unconsciously or not–feeling the strain of being useless.

“You’ve let this room and this house replace you and your wife in your children’s affections. This room is their mother and father, far more important in their lives than their real parents. And now you come along and want to shut it off. No wonder there’s hatred here. You can feel it coming out of the sky. Feel that sun.”

The parents also come to the realization that their children are spoiled, almost beyond repair, and they resent their parents meddling in their affairs and their attempts at disciplinary action. When technology becomes their parents, parents become obsolete.

Meanwhile, the veldt continues to lurk in the background. Lions prowl the plain, mouths dripping with a fresh kill. Vultures circle. The African sun beats down. Oddly enough, George finds his old wallet and his wife’s scarf, bloodied in the room. Strangely familiar screams are heard from the nursery, though the parents make no attempt to discover their origin.

Tension comes to a head when George makes the decision to shut down the house and lock up the nursery. What will happen to the twins? What will happen to George and Lydia? Why are lions lying in wait in the nursery?

Bradbury’s short story is a chilling cautionary tale. It reminds us that parents need to parent their children, and that technology cannot become mother or father without disastrous consequences, whether it be the a bed that rocks you to sleep, or a computer that stays on 24/7. He warns of what happens when there is a breakdown in communication in families, of the need to feel needed–all too real in this day and age. And he reminds us that in this technologically-driven world, that family should still come first.

 

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