Dreams Reflection Writing Template
Anna Balquin, one of the listeners to our podcast made this fantastic listening activity based around a section of episode 3 about food. What are some traditional American dishes? How long has Nicole been living in Barcelona? What did Nicole serve with the brisket? Do the supper club guests usually know each other?
Where did gumbo come from? Which cultures does the dish gumbo mix? What is the holy trinity? What were the main ingredients of the gumbo that Nicole made? What kind of food does she serve? Southern US soul food. West African with French 6. Make a roux butter, flour 7. Onion, celery, bell peppers 8. Klara eoi. Watching TV series is often a favourite pastime for many of my students, and not just the millennials. Most of those who are in C1 and C2 are already watching them in English, as they are aware that they can learn everything from the newest slang to an authentic-sounding accent.
Series are shorter than films, they let you come back to the characters again and again and predict what will happen to them next. They often reflect real life, which means people in them use real language and grammar. Here are some things I have done in class:. This year I have been trying to encourage and guide my students into practising their English outside the classroom every day, so I provided them with a list of things they could do to practise the different skills…. Emma's Language Journey. Skip to content.
Hopefully my cajoling post will give one more person that little push. You have until the 26th November to register, only 2 days left! Reviewing learning immediately after that learning has taken place aids memory. Geraldine teacher Speaking by its very nature is ephemeral.
Memories, Dreams, Reflections Summary & Study Guide Description
Timing: Listen for Gist First listen: What was the dish? Listen for Detail 2 nd listen: Where did she try the dish? Who made the dish? What surprised her about Sicilian food? What really impressed her about the dish? Language focus Look at the expressions Sindhu uses, what do you think they mean?
Memories, Dreams, Reflections Summary & Study Guide
Pasta arrabbiata with angel hair pasta Listen for Detail 2 nd listen: Where did she try the dish? The whole bag of tricks was over and done with! That was when I learned what a neurosis is. Gradually the recollection of how it had all come about returned to me, and I saw clearly that I myself had arranged this whole disgraceful situation.
That was why I had never been seriously angry with the schoolmate who pushed me over. I knew that he had been put up to it, so to speak, and that the whole affair was a diabolical plot on my part.
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I knew, too, that this was never going to happen to me again. I had a feeling of rage against myself, and at the same time was ashamed of myself. For I knew that I had wronged myself and made a fool of myself in my own eyes. Nobody else was to blame; I was the cursed renegade! From then on I could no longer endure my parents' worrying about me or speaking of me in a pitying tone.
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The neurosis became another of my secrets, but it was a shameful secret, a defeat. Nevertheless it induced in me a studied punctiliousness and an unusual diligence. Those days saw the beginnings of my conscientiousness, practiced not for the sake of appearances, so that I would amount to something, but for my own sake.
Regularly I would get up at five o'clock in order to study, and sometimes I worked from three in the morning till seven, before going to school.
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What had led me astray during the crisis was my passion for being alone, my delight in solitude. Nature seemed to me full of wonders, and I wanted to steep myself in them. Every stone, every plant, every single thing seemed alive and indescribably marvelous. I immersed myself in nature, crawled, as it were, into the very essence of nature and away from the whole human world. I had another important experience at about this time. I was taking the long road to school from Klein-Hiiningen, where we lived, to Basel, when suddenly for a single moment I had the overwhelming impression of having just emerged from a dense cloud.
I knew all at once: now I am myself! It was as if a wall of mist were at my back, and behind that wall there was not yet an "I.
Previously I had existed, too, but everything had merely happened to me. Now I happened to myself.
Now I knew: I am myself now, now I exist. Previously I had been willed to do this and that; now I willed. This experience seemed to me tremendously important and new: there was "authority" in me. Curiously enough, at this time and also during the months of my fainting neurosis I had lost all memory of the treasure in the attic. Otherwise I would probably have realized even then the analogy between my feeling of authority and the feeling of value which the treasure inspired in me.
But that was not so; all memory of the pencil case had vanished. Around this time I was invited to spend the holidays with friends of the family who had a house on Lake Lucerne. To my delight the house was situated right on the lake, and there was a boathouse and a rowboat. My host allowed his son and me to use the boat, although we were sternly warned not to be reck-less.
Unfortunately I also knew how to steer a Waidling a boat of the gondola type —that is to say, standing. At home we had such a punt, in which we had tried out every imaginable trick. The first thing I did, therefore, was to take my stand on the stern seat and with one oar push off into the lake. That was too much for the anxious master of the house. He whistled us back and gave me a first-class dressing-down. I was thoroughly crest-fallen but had to admit that I had done exactly what he had said not to, and that his lecture was quite justified.
At the same time I was seized with rage that this fat, ignorant boor should dare to insult ME. This ME was not only grown up, but important, an authority, a person with office and dignity, an old man, an object of respect and awe. Yet the contrast with reality was so grotesque that in the midst of my fury I suddenly stopped myself, for the question rose to my lips: "Who in the world are you, anyway? You are reacting as though you were the devil only knows how important! And yet you know he is perfectly right. You are barely twelve years old, a schoolboy, and he is a father and a rich, powerful man besides, who owns two houses and several splendid horses.
Then, to my intense confusion, it occurred to me that I was actually two different persons. One of them was the schoolboy who could not grasp algebra and was far from sure of himself;. This "other" was an old man who lived in the eighteenth century, wore buckled shoes and a white wig and went driving in a fly with high, concave rear wheels between which the box was suspended on springs and leather straps. This notion sprang from a curious experience I had had.
When we were living in Klein-Miningen an ancient green carriage from the Black Forest drove past our house one day. It was truly an antique, looking exactly as if it had come straight out of the eighteenth century. When I saw it, I felt with great excitement: "That's it! Sure enough, that comes from my times. Then came a curious sentiment ecoeurant, as though someone had stolen something from me, or as though I had been cheated—cheated out of my beloved past.
The carriage was a relic of those times!
Memories, Dreams, Reflections Summary & Study Guide
I cannot describe what was happening in me or what it was that affected me so strongly: a longing, a nostalgia, or a recognition that kept saying, "Yes, that's how it was! Yes, that's how it was! I had still another experience that harked back to the eight-eenth century. At the home of one of my aunts I had seen an eighteenth-century statuette, an old terra-cotta piece consisting of two painted figures. One of them was old Dr. Stiickelberger, a well-known personality in the city of Basel toward the end of the eighteenth century.