Questões de Concurso
Sobre interpretação de texto | reading comprehension em inglês
Foram encontradas 10.134 questões
Ano: 2018
Banca:
FUNDEP (Gestão de Concursos)
Órgão:
Prefeitura de Pará de Minas - MG
Prova:
FUNDEP (Gestão de Concursos) - 2018 - Prefeitura de Pará de Minas - MG - Professor - Inglês |
Q1118363
Inglês
Texto associado
INSTRUCTIONS: This test comprises fifteen questions
taken from the text below. Read the text carefully and
then mark the alternatives that answer the questions or
complete the sentences presented after it.
The whole affair began so very quietly. When I wrote, that
summer, and asked my friend Louise if she would come
with me on a car trip to Provence, I had no idea that I
might be issuing an invitation to danger. And when we
arrived one afternoon, after a hot but leisurely journey, at
the enchanting little walled city of Avignon, we felt in that
mood of pleasant weariness mingled with anticipation
which marks, I believe, the beginning of every normal
holiday.
I even sang to myself as I put the car away, and when
I found they had given me a room with a balcony. And
when, later on, the cat jumped on to my balcony, there
was still nothing to indicate that this was the beginning of
the whole strange, uneasy, tangled business. Or rather,
not the beginning, but my own cue, the point where I
came in. And, though the part I was to play in the tragedy
was to break and re-form the pattern of my whole life, yet
it was a very minor part, little more than a walk on in the
last act. For most of the play had been played already;
there had been love and lust and revenge and fear and
murder – all the blood-tragedy – and now the killer, with
blood enough on his hands, was waiting in the wings for
the lights to go up again, on the last kill that would bring
the final curtain down.
Louise is tall and fair and plump, with long legs, a
pleasant voice, and beautiful hands. She is an artist,
has no temperament to speak of, and is unutterably and
incurably lazy. Before my marriage to Johnny Selbourne,
I had taught at the Alice Private School for Girls in the
West Midlands. Louise was still Art Mistress there, and
owed her continued health and sanity to the habit of
removing herself out of the trouble zone.
When Louise had gone to her own room, I washed,
changed into a white frock with a wide blue belt, and did
my face and hair very slowly. It was still hot, and the late
sun’s rays fell obliquely across the balcony, through the
half-opened shutter, in a shaft of copper-gold. Motionless,
the shadows of the thin leaves traced a pattern across it
as delicate and precise as a Chinese painting on silk, the
image of the tree, brushed in like that by the sun, had a
grace that the tree itself gave no hint of, for it was merely
one of the nameless spindly affairs, parched and dustladen, that struggled up towards the sky from their pots
in the hotel out below.
The courtyard was empty: people were still resting,
or changing, or, if they were the mad English, walking
out in the afternoon sun. A white-painted trellis wall
separated the court on one side from the street, and
beyond it people, mules, cars, occasionally even buses,
moved about their business up and down the narrow
thoroughfare. But inside the vine-covered trellis it was
very still and peaceful.
Then fate took a hand. The first cue I had of it was the
violent shaking of the shadows on the balcony. Then
the ginger cat shot on to my balcony and sent down on
her assailant the look to end all looks, and sat calmly
down to wash. From below a rush and a volley of barking
explained everything.
Then came a crash, and the sound of running feet.
The courtyard, formerly so empty and peaceful, seemed
all of a sudden remarkably full of a boy and a large,
nondescript dog. The latter, with his earnest gaze still on
the balcony, was leaping futilely up and down, pouring
out rage, hatred and excitement, while the boy tried with
one hand to catch and quell him and with the other to lift
one of the tables which had been knocked on to its side.
It was, luckily, not one of those which had been set for
dinner.
The boy looked up and saw me. He straightened, pushed
his hair back from his forehead, and grinned.
“My French isn’t terribly good,” I said. “Do you speak
English?”
He looked immensely pleased.
“Well, as a matter of fact, I am English,” he admitted. ”My
name’s David,” he said. “David Shelley.”
Well, I was into the play.
I judged him to be about thirteen – who was lucky enough
to be enjoying a holiday in the South of France.
Before I could speak again we were interrupted by a
woman who came in through the vine-trellis, from the
street. She was, I guessed, thirty-five. She was also
blonde, tall, and quite the most beautiful woman I had
ever seen. The simple cream dress she wore must have
been one of Dior’s favourite dreams, and the bill for it her
husband’s nightmare.
She did not see me at all, which again was perfectly
natural. She paused a moment when she saw the boy
and the dog, then came forward with a kind of eyecompelling glance which would have turned heads in
Piccadilly on a wet Monday morning.
She paused and spoke. Her voice was pleasant,
her English perfect, but her accent was that of a
Frenchwoman.
“David.”
No reply.
“Mon fils... “
Her son? He did not glance up. “Don’t you know what
time it is? Hurry up and change. It’s nearly dinner time.”
Without a word the boy went into the hotel, trailing
a somewhat subdued dog after him on the end of a
string. His mother stared after him for a moment, with
an expression half puzzled, half exasperated. Then she
gave a smiling little shrug of the shoulders and went into
the hotel after the boy.
I picked my bag up and went downstairs for a drink.
STEWART, Mary. Madam, will you talk?. Hodder and
Stoughton: Coronet Books, 1977, p. 5-14 (Edited).
The narrator looked at the boy and thought:
Ano: 2018
Banca:
FUNDEP (Gestão de Concursos)
Órgão:
Prefeitura de Pará de Minas - MG
Prova:
FUNDEP (Gestão de Concursos) - 2018 - Prefeitura de Pará de Minas - MG - Professor - Inglês |
Q1118362
Inglês
Texto associado
INSTRUCTIONS: This test comprises fifteen questions
taken from the text below. Read the text carefully and
then mark the alternatives that answer the questions or
complete the sentences presented after it.
The whole affair began so very quietly. When I wrote, that
summer, and asked my friend Louise if she would come
with me on a car trip to Provence, I had no idea that I
might be issuing an invitation to danger. And when we
arrived one afternoon, after a hot but leisurely journey, at
the enchanting little walled city of Avignon, we felt in that
mood of pleasant weariness mingled with anticipation
which marks, I believe, the beginning of every normal
holiday.
I even sang to myself as I put the car away, and when
I found they had given me a room with a balcony. And
when, later on, the cat jumped on to my balcony, there
was still nothing to indicate that this was the beginning of
the whole strange, uneasy, tangled business. Or rather,
not the beginning, but my own cue, the point where I
came in. And, though the part I was to play in the tragedy
was to break and re-form the pattern of my whole life, yet
it was a very minor part, little more than a walk on in the
last act. For most of the play had been played already;
there had been love and lust and revenge and fear and
murder – all the blood-tragedy – and now the killer, with
blood enough on his hands, was waiting in the wings for
the lights to go up again, on the last kill that would bring
the final curtain down.
Louise is tall and fair and plump, with long legs, a
pleasant voice, and beautiful hands. She is an artist,
has no temperament to speak of, and is unutterably and
incurably lazy. Before my marriage to Johnny Selbourne,
I had taught at the Alice Private School for Girls in the
West Midlands. Louise was still Art Mistress there, and
owed her continued health and sanity to the habit of
removing herself out of the trouble zone.
When Louise had gone to her own room, I washed,
changed into a white frock with a wide blue belt, and did
my face and hair very slowly. It was still hot, and the late
sun’s rays fell obliquely across the balcony, through the
half-opened shutter, in a shaft of copper-gold. Motionless,
the shadows of the thin leaves traced a pattern across it
as delicate and precise as a Chinese painting on silk, the
image of the tree, brushed in like that by the sun, had a
grace that the tree itself gave no hint of, for it was merely
one of the nameless spindly affairs, parched and dustladen, that struggled up towards the sky from their pots
in the hotel out below.
The courtyard was empty: people were still resting,
or changing, or, if they were the mad English, walking
out in the afternoon sun. A white-painted trellis wall
separated the court on one side from the street, and
beyond it people, mules, cars, occasionally even buses,
moved about their business up and down the narrow
thoroughfare. But inside the vine-covered trellis it was
very still and peaceful.
Then fate took a hand. The first cue I had of it was the
violent shaking of the shadows on the balcony. Then
the ginger cat shot on to my balcony and sent down on
her assailant the look to end all looks, and sat calmly
down to wash. From below a rush and a volley of barking
explained everything.
Then came a crash, and the sound of running feet.
The courtyard, formerly so empty and peaceful, seemed
all of a sudden remarkably full of a boy and a large,
nondescript dog. The latter, with his earnest gaze still on
the balcony, was leaping futilely up and down, pouring
out rage, hatred and excitement, while the boy tried with
one hand to catch and quell him and with the other to lift
one of the tables which had been knocked on to its side.
It was, luckily, not one of those which had been set for
dinner.
The boy looked up and saw me. He straightened, pushed
his hair back from his forehead, and grinned.
“My French isn’t terribly good,” I said. “Do you speak
English?”
He looked immensely pleased.
“Well, as a matter of fact, I am English,” he admitted. ”My
name’s David,” he said. “David Shelley.”
Well, I was into the play.
I judged him to be about thirteen – who was lucky enough
to be enjoying a holiday in the South of France.
Before I could speak again we were interrupted by a
woman who came in through the vine-trellis, from the
street. She was, I guessed, thirty-five. She was also
blonde, tall, and quite the most beautiful woman I had
ever seen. The simple cream dress she wore must have
been one of Dior’s favourite dreams, and the bill for it her
husband’s nightmare.
She did not see me at all, which again was perfectly
natural. She paused a moment when she saw the boy
and the dog, then came forward with a kind of eyecompelling glance which would have turned heads in
Piccadilly on a wet Monday morning.
She paused and spoke. Her voice was pleasant,
her English perfect, but her accent was that of a
Frenchwoman.
“David.”
No reply.
“Mon fils... “
Her son? He did not glance up. “Don’t you know what
time it is? Hurry up and change. It’s nearly dinner time.”
Without a word the boy went into the hotel, trailing
a somewhat subdued dog after him on the end of a
string. His mother stared after him for a moment, with
an expression half puzzled, half exasperated. Then she
gave a smiling little shrug of the shoulders and went into
the hotel after the boy.
I picked my bag up and went downstairs for a drink.
STEWART, Mary. Madam, will you talk?. Hodder and
Stoughton: Coronet Books, 1977, p. 5-14 (Edited).
According to the excerpt of the text, the story will include
Ano: 2018
Banca:
FUNDEP (Gestão de Concursos)
Órgão:
Prefeitura de Pará de Minas - MG
Prova:
FUNDEP (Gestão de Concursos) - 2018 - Prefeitura de Pará de Minas - MG - Professor - Inglês |
Q1118361
Inglês
Texto associado
INSTRUCTIONS: This test comprises fifteen questions
taken from the text below. Read the text carefully and
then mark the alternatives that answer the questions or
complete the sentences presented after it.
The whole affair began so very quietly. When I wrote, that
summer, and asked my friend Louise if she would come
with me on a car trip to Provence, I had no idea that I
might be issuing an invitation to danger. And when we
arrived one afternoon, after a hot but leisurely journey, at
the enchanting little walled city of Avignon, we felt in that
mood of pleasant weariness mingled with anticipation
which marks, I believe, the beginning of every normal
holiday.
I even sang to myself as I put the car away, and when
I found they had given me a room with a balcony. And
when, later on, the cat jumped on to my balcony, there
was still nothing to indicate that this was the beginning of
the whole strange, uneasy, tangled business. Or rather,
not the beginning, but my own cue, the point where I
came in. And, though the part I was to play in the tragedy
was to break and re-form the pattern of my whole life, yet
it was a very minor part, little more than a walk on in the
last act. For most of the play had been played already;
there had been love and lust and revenge and fear and
murder – all the blood-tragedy – and now the killer, with
blood enough on his hands, was waiting in the wings for
the lights to go up again, on the last kill that would bring
the final curtain down.
Louise is tall and fair and plump, with long legs, a
pleasant voice, and beautiful hands. She is an artist,
has no temperament to speak of, and is unutterably and
incurably lazy. Before my marriage to Johnny Selbourne,
I had taught at the Alice Private School for Girls in the
West Midlands. Louise was still Art Mistress there, and
owed her continued health and sanity to the habit of
removing herself out of the trouble zone.
When Louise had gone to her own room, I washed,
changed into a white frock with a wide blue belt, and did
my face and hair very slowly. It was still hot, and the late
sun’s rays fell obliquely across the balcony, through the
half-opened shutter, in a shaft of copper-gold. Motionless,
the shadows of the thin leaves traced a pattern across it
as delicate and precise as a Chinese painting on silk, the
image of the tree, brushed in like that by the sun, had a
grace that the tree itself gave no hint of, for it was merely
one of the nameless spindly affairs, parched and dustladen, that struggled up towards the sky from their pots
in the hotel out below.
The courtyard was empty: people were still resting,
or changing, or, if they were the mad English, walking
out in the afternoon sun. A white-painted trellis wall
separated the court on one side from the street, and
beyond it people, mules, cars, occasionally even buses,
moved about their business up and down the narrow
thoroughfare. But inside the vine-covered trellis it was
very still and peaceful.
Then fate took a hand. The first cue I had of it was the
violent shaking of the shadows on the balcony. Then
the ginger cat shot on to my balcony and sent down on
her assailant the look to end all looks, and sat calmly
down to wash. From below a rush and a volley of barking
explained everything.
Then came a crash, and the sound of running feet.
The courtyard, formerly so empty and peaceful, seemed
all of a sudden remarkably full of a boy and a large,
nondescript dog. The latter, with his earnest gaze still on
the balcony, was leaping futilely up and down, pouring
out rage, hatred and excitement, while the boy tried with
one hand to catch and quell him and with the other to lift
one of the tables which had been knocked on to its side.
It was, luckily, not one of those which had been set for
dinner.
The boy looked up and saw me. He straightened, pushed
his hair back from his forehead, and grinned.
“My French isn’t terribly good,” I said. “Do you speak
English?”
He looked immensely pleased.
“Well, as a matter of fact, I am English,” he admitted. ”My
name’s David,” he said. “David Shelley.”
Well, I was into the play.
I judged him to be about thirteen – who was lucky enough
to be enjoying a holiday in the South of France.
Before I could speak again we were interrupted by a
woman who came in through the vine-trellis, from the
street. She was, I guessed, thirty-five. She was also
blonde, tall, and quite the most beautiful woman I had
ever seen. The simple cream dress she wore must have
been one of Dior’s favourite dreams, and the bill for it her
husband’s nightmare.
She did not see me at all, which again was perfectly
natural. She paused a moment when she saw the boy
and the dog, then came forward with a kind of eyecompelling glance which would have turned heads in
Piccadilly on a wet Monday morning.
She paused and spoke. Her voice was pleasant,
her English perfect, but her accent was that of a
Frenchwoman.
“David.”
No reply.
“Mon fils... “
Her son? He did not glance up. “Don’t you know what
time it is? Hurry up and change. It’s nearly dinner time.”
Without a word the boy went into the hotel, trailing
a somewhat subdued dog after him on the end of a
string. His mother stared after him for a moment, with
an expression half puzzled, half exasperated. Then she
gave a smiling little shrug of the shoulders and went into
the hotel after the boy.
I picked my bag up and went downstairs for a drink.
STEWART, Mary. Madam, will you talk?. Hodder and
Stoughton: Coronet Books, 1977, p. 5-14 (Edited).
All adjectives below apply to the narrator’s friend Louise,
EXCEPT:
Ano: 2018
Banca:
FUNDEP (Gestão de Concursos)
Órgão:
Prefeitura de Pará de Minas - MG
Prova:
FUNDEP (Gestão de Concursos) - 2018 - Prefeitura de Pará de Minas - MG - Professor - Inglês |
Q1118360
Inglês
Texto associado
INSTRUCTIONS: This test comprises fifteen questions
taken from the text below. Read the text carefully and
then mark the alternatives that answer the questions or
complete the sentences presented after it.
The whole affair began so very quietly. When I wrote, that
summer, and asked my friend Louise if she would come
with me on a car trip to Provence, I had no idea that I
might be issuing an invitation to danger. And when we
arrived one afternoon, after a hot but leisurely journey, at
the enchanting little walled city of Avignon, we felt in that
mood of pleasant weariness mingled with anticipation
which marks, I believe, the beginning of every normal
holiday.
I even sang to myself as I put the car away, and when
I found they had given me a room with a balcony. And
when, later on, the cat jumped on to my balcony, there
was still nothing to indicate that this was the beginning of
the whole strange, uneasy, tangled business. Or rather,
not the beginning, but my own cue, the point where I
came in. And, though the part I was to play in the tragedy
was to break and re-form the pattern of my whole life, yet
it was a very minor part, little more than a walk on in the
last act. For most of the play had been played already;
there had been love and lust and revenge and fear and
murder – all the blood-tragedy – and now the killer, with
blood enough on his hands, was waiting in the wings for
the lights to go up again, on the last kill that would bring
the final curtain down.
Louise is tall and fair and plump, with long legs, a
pleasant voice, and beautiful hands. She is an artist,
has no temperament to speak of, and is unutterably and
incurably lazy. Before my marriage to Johnny Selbourne,
I had taught at the Alice Private School for Girls in the
West Midlands. Louise was still Art Mistress there, and
owed her continued health and sanity to the habit of
removing herself out of the trouble zone.
When Louise had gone to her own room, I washed,
changed into a white frock with a wide blue belt, and did
my face and hair very slowly. It was still hot, and the late
sun’s rays fell obliquely across the balcony, through the
half-opened shutter, in a shaft of copper-gold. Motionless,
the shadows of the thin leaves traced a pattern across it
as delicate and precise as a Chinese painting on silk, the
image of the tree, brushed in like that by the sun, had a
grace that the tree itself gave no hint of, for it was merely
one of the nameless spindly affairs, parched and dustladen, that struggled up towards the sky from their pots
in the hotel out below.
The courtyard was empty: people were still resting,
or changing, or, if they were the mad English, walking
out in the afternoon sun. A white-painted trellis wall
separated the court on one side from the street, and
beyond it people, mules, cars, occasionally even buses,
moved about their business up and down the narrow
thoroughfare. But inside the vine-covered trellis it was
very still and peaceful.
Then fate took a hand. The first cue I had of it was the
violent shaking of the shadows on the balcony. Then
the ginger cat shot on to my balcony and sent down on
her assailant the look to end all looks, and sat calmly
down to wash. From below a rush and a volley of barking
explained everything.
Then came a crash, and the sound of running feet.
The courtyard, formerly so empty and peaceful, seemed
all of a sudden remarkably full of a boy and a large,
nondescript dog. The latter, with his earnest gaze still on
the balcony, was leaping futilely up and down, pouring
out rage, hatred and excitement, while the boy tried with
one hand to catch and quell him and with the other to lift
one of the tables which had been knocked on to its side.
It was, luckily, not one of those which had been set for
dinner.
The boy looked up and saw me. He straightened, pushed
his hair back from his forehead, and grinned.
“My French isn’t terribly good,” I said. “Do you speak
English?”
He looked immensely pleased.
“Well, as a matter of fact, I am English,” he admitted. ”My
name’s David,” he said. “David Shelley.”
Well, I was into the play.
I judged him to be about thirteen – who was lucky enough
to be enjoying a holiday in the South of France.
Before I could speak again we were interrupted by a
woman who came in through the vine-trellis, from the
street. She was, I guessed, thirty-five. She was also
blonde, tall, and quite the most beautiful woman I had
ever seen. The simple cream dress she wore must have
been one of Dior’s favourite dreams, and the bill for it her
husband’s nightmare.
She did not see me at all, which again was perfectly
natural. She paused a moment when she saw the boy
and the dog, then came forward with a kind of eyecompelling glance which would have turned heads in
Piccadilly on a wet Monday morning.
She paused and spoke. Her voice was pleasant,
her English perfect, but her accent was that of a
Frenchwoman.
“David.”
No reply.
“Mon fils... “
Her son? He did not glance up. “Don’t you know what
time it is? Hurry up and change. It’s nearly dinner time.”
Without a word the boy went into the hotel, trailing
a somewhat subdued dog after him on the end of a
string. His mother stared after him for a moment, with
an expression half puzzled, half exasperated. Then she
gave a smiling little shrug of the shoulders and went into
the hotel after the boy.
I picked my bag up and went downstairs for a drink.
STEWART, Mary. Madam, will you talk?. Hodder and
Stoughton: Coronet Books, 1977, p. 5-14 (Edited).
The narrative shows that the narrator was expecting to:
Ano: 2018
Banca:
FUNDEP (Gestão de Concursos)
Órgão:
Prefeitura de Pará de Minas - MG
Prova:
FUNDEP (Gestão de Concursos) - 2018 - Prefeitura de Pará de Minas - MG - Professor - Inglês |
Q1118359
Inglês
Texto associado
INSTRUCTIONS: This test comprises fifteen questions
taken from the text below. Read the text carefully and
then mark the alternatives that answer the questions or
complete the sentences presented after it.
The whole affair began so very quietly. When I wrote, that
summer, and asked my friend Louise if she would come
with me on a car trip to Provence, I had no idea that I
might be issuing an invitation to danger. And when we
arrived one afternoon, after a hot but leisurely journey, at
the enchanting little walled city of Avignon, we felt in that
mood of pleasant weariness mingled with anticipation
which marks, I believe, the beginning of every normal
holiday.
I even sang to myself as I put the car away, and when
I found they had given me a room with a balcony. And
when, later on, the cat jumped on to my balcony, there
was still nothing to indicate that this was the beginning of
the whole strange, uneasy, tangled business. Or rather,
not the beginning, but my own cue, the point where I
came in. And, though the part I was to play in the tragedy
was to break and re-form the pattern of my whole life, yet
it was a very minor part, little more than a walk on in the
last act. For most of the play had been played already;
there had been love and lust and revenge and fear and
murder – all the blood-tragedy – and now the killer, with
blood enough on his hands, was waiting in the wings for
the lights to go up again, on the last kill that would bring
the final curtain down.
Louise is tall and fair and plump, with long legs, a
pleasant voice, and beautiful hands. She is an artist,
has no temperament to speak of, and is unutterably and
incurably lazy. Before my marriage to Johnny Selbourne,
I had taught at the Alice Private School for Girls in the
West Midlands. Louise was still Art Mistress there, and
owed her continued health and sanity to the habit of
removing herself out of the trouble zone.
When Louise had gone to her own room, I washed,
changed into a white frock with a wide blue belt, and did
my face and hair very slowly. It was still hot, and the late
sun’s rays fell obliquely across the balcony, through the
half-opened shutter, in a shaft of copper-gold. Motionless,
the shadows of the thin leaves traced a pattern across it
as delicate and precise as a Chinese painting on silk, the
image of the tree, brushed in like that by the sun, had a
grace that the tree itself gave no hint of, for it was merely
one of the nameless spindly affairs, parched and dustladen, that struggled up towards the sky from their pots
in the hotel out below.
The courtyard was empty: people were still resting,
or changing, or, if they were the mad English, walking
out in the afternoon sun. A white-painted trellis wall
separated the court on one side from the street, and
beyond it people, mules, cars, occasionally even buses,
moved about their business up and down the narrow
thoroughfare. But inside the vine-covered trellis it was
very still and peaceful.
Then fate took a hand. The first cue I had of it was the
violent shaking of the shadows on the balcony. Then
the ginger cat shot on to my balcony and sent down on
her assailant the look to end all looks, and sat calmly
down to wash. From below a rush and a volley of barking
explained everything.
Then came a crash, and the sound of running feet.
The courtyard, formerly so empty and peaceful, seemed
all of a sudden remarkably full of a boy and a large,
nondescript dog. The latter, with his earnest gaze still on
the balcony, was leaping futilely up and down, pouring
out rage, hatred and excitement, while the boy tried with
one hand to catch and quell him and with the other to lift
one of the tables which had been knocked on to its side.
It was, luckily, not one of those which had been set for
dinner.
The boy looked up and saw me. He straightened, pushed
his hair back from his forehead, and grinned.
“My French isn’t terribly good,” I said. “Do you speak
English?”
He looked immensely pleased.
“Well, as a matter of fact, I am English,” he admitted. ”My
name’s David,” he said. “David Shelley.”
Well, I was into the play.
I judged him to be about thirteen – who was lucky enough
to be enjoying a holiday in the South of France.
Before I could speak again we were interrupted by a
woman who came in through the vine-trellis, from the
street. She was, I guessed, thirty-five. She was also
blonde, tall, and quite the most beautiful woman I had
ever seen. The simple cream dress she wore must have
been one of Dior’s favourite dreams, and the bill for it her
husband’s nightmare.
She did not see me at all, which again was perfectly
natural. She paused a moment when she saw the boy
and the dog, then came forward with a kind of eyecompelling glance which would have turned heads in
Piccadilly on a wet Monday morning.
She paused and spoke. Her voice was pleasant,
her English perfect, but her accent was that of a
Frenchwoman.
“David.”
No reply.
“Mon fils... “
Her son? He did not glance up. “Don’t you know what
time it is? Hurry up and change. It’s nearly dinner time.”
Without a word the boy went into the hotel, trailing
a somewhat subdued dog after him on the end of a
string. His mother stared after him for a moment, with
an expression half puzzled, half exasperated. Then she
gave a smiling little shrug of the shoulders and went into
the hotel after the boy.
I picked my bag up and went downstairs for a drink.
STEWART, Mary. Madam, will you talk?. Hodder and
Stoughton: Coronet Books, 1977, p. 5-14 (Edited).
We, readers of the text, know that the narrator is a woman
because:
Ano: 2018
Banca:
FUNDEP (Gestão de Concursos)
Órgão:
Prefeitura de Pará de Minas - MG
Prova:
FUNDEP (Gestão de Concursos) - 2018 - Prefeitura de Pará de Minas - MG - Professor - Inglês |
Q1118358
Inglês
Texto associado
INSTRUCTIONS: This test comprises fifteen questions
taken from the text below. Read the text carefully and
then mark the alternatives that answer the questions or
complete the sentences presented after it.
The whole affair began so very quietly. When I wrote, that
summer, and asked my friend Louise if she would come
with me on a car trip to Provence, I had no idea that I
might be issuing an invitation to danger. And when we
arrived one afternoon, after a hot but leisurely journey, at
the enchanting little walled city of Avignon, we felt in that
mood of pleasant weariness mingled with anticipation
which marks, I believe, the beginning of every normal
holiday.
I even sang to myself as I put the car away, and when
I found they had given me a room with a balcony. And
when, later on, the cat jumped on to my balcony, there
was still nothing to indicate that this was the beginning of
the whole strange, uneasy, tangled business. Or rather,
not the beginning, but my own cue, the point where I
came in. And, though the part I was to play in the tragedy
was to break and re-form the pattern of my whole life, yet
it was a very minor part, little more than a walk on in the
last act. For most of the play had been played already;
there had been love and lust and revenge and fear and
murder – all the blood-tragedy – and now the killer, with
blood enough on his hands, was waiting in the wings for
the lights to go up again, on the last kill that would bring
the final curtain down.
Louise is tall and fair and plump, with long legs, a
pleasant voice, and beautiful hands. She is an artist,
has no temperament to speak of, and is unutterably and
incurably lazy. Before my marriage to Johnny Selbourne,
I had taught at the Alice Private School for Girls in the
West Midlands. Louise was still Art Mistress there, and
owed her continued health and sanity to the habit of
removing herself out of the trouble zone.
When Louise had gone to her own room, I washed,
changed into a white frock with a wide blue belt, and did
my face and hair very slowly. It was still hot, and the late
sun’s rays fell obliquely across the balcony, through the
half-opened shutter, in a shaft of copper-gold. Motionless,
the shadows of the thin leaves traced a pattern across it
as delicate and precise as a Chinese painting on silk, the
image of the tree, brushed in like that by the sun, had a
grace that the tree itself gave no hint of, for it was merely
one of the nameless spindly affairs, parched and dustladen, that struggled up towards the sky from their pots
in the hotel out below.
The courtyard was empty: people were still resting,
or changing, or, if they were the mad English, walking
out in the afternoon sun. A white-painted trellis wall
separated the court on one side from the street, and
beyond it people, mules, cars, occasionally even buses,
moved about their business up and down the narrow
thoroughfare. But inside the vine-covered trellis it was
very still and peaceful.
Then fate took a hand. The first cue I had of it was the
violent shaking of the shadows on the balcony. Then
the ginger cat shot on to my balcony and sent down on
her assailant the look to end all looks, and sat calmly
down to wash. From below a rush and a volley of barking
explained everything.
Then came a crash, and the sound of running feet.
The courtyard, formerly so empty and peaceful, seemed
all of a sudden remarkably full of a boy and a large,
nondescript dog. The latter, with his earnest gaze still on
the balcony, was leaping futilely up and down, pouring
out rage, hatred and excitement, while the boy tried with
one hand to catch and quell him and with the other to lift
one of the tables which had been knocked on to its side.
It was, luckily, not one of those which had been set for
dinner.
The boy looked up and saw me. He straightened, pushed
his hair back from his forehead, and grinned.
“My French isn’t terribly good,” I said. “Do you speak
English?”
He looked immensely pleased.
“Well, as a matter of fact, I am English,” he admitted. ”My
name’s David,” he said. “David Shelley.”
Well, I was into the play.
I judged him to be about thirteen – who was lucky enough
to be enjoying a holiday in the South of France.
Before I could speak again we were interrupted by a
woman who came in through the vine-trellis, from the
street. She was, I guessed, thirty-five. She was also
blonde, tall, and quite the most beautiful woman I had
ever seen. The simple cream dress she wore must have
been one of Dior’s favourite dreams, and the bill for it her
husband’s nightmare.
She did not see me at all, which again was perfectly
natural. She paused a moment when she saw the boy
and the dog, then came forward with a kind of eyecompelling glance which would have turned heads in
Piccadilly on a wet Monday morning.
She paused and spoke. Her voice was pleasant,
her English perfect, but her accent was that of a
Frenchwoman.
“David.”
No reply.
“Mon fils... “
Her son? He did not glance up. “Don’t you know what
time it is? Hurry up and change. It’s nearly dinner time.”
Without a word the boy went into the hotel, trailing
a somewhat subdued dog after him on the end of a
string. His mother stared after him for a moment, with
an expression half puzzled, half exasperated. Then she
gave a smiling little shrug of the shoulders and went into
the hotel after the boy.
I picked my bag up and went downstairs for a drink.
STEWART, Mary. Madam, will you talk?. Hodder and
Stoughton: Coronet Books, 1977, p. 5-14 (Edited).
The narrator is comparing the story she is about to tell to:
Ano: 2018
Banca:
FUNDEP (Gestão de Concursos)
Órgão:
Prefeitura de Pará de Minas - MG
Prova:
FUNDEP (Gestão de Concursos) - 2018 - Prefeitura de Pará de Minas - MG - Professor - Inglês |
Q1118357
Inglês
Texto associado
INSTRUCTIONS: This test comprises fifteen questions
taken from the text below. Read the text carefully and
then mark the alternatives that answer the questions or
complete the sentences presented after it.
The whole affair began so very quietly. When I wrote, that
summer, and asked my friend Louise if she would come
with me on a car trip to Provence, I had no idea that I
might be issuing an invitation to danger. And when we
arrived one afternoon, after a hot but leisurely journey, at
the enchanting little walled city of Avignon, we felt in that
mood of pleasant weariness mingled with anticipation
which marks, I believe, the beginning of every normal
holiday.
I even sang to myself as I put the car away, and when
I found they had given me a room with a balcony. And
when, later on, the cat jumped on to my balcony, there
was still nothing to indicate that this was the beginning of
the whole strange, uneasy, tangled business. Or rather,
not the beginning, but my own cue, the point where I
came in. And, though the part I was to play in the tragedy
was to break and re-form the pattern of my whole life, yet
it was a very minor part, little more than a walk on in the
last act. For most of the play had been played already;
there had been love and lust and revenge and fear and
murder – all the blood-tragedy – and now the killer, with
blood enough on his hands, was waiting in the wings for
the lights to go up again, on the last kill that would bring
the final curtain down.
Louise is tall and fair and plump, with long legs, a
pleasant voice, and beautiful hands. She is an artist,
has no temperament to speak of, and is unutterably and
incurably lazy. Before my marriage to Johnny Selbourne,
I had taught at the Alice Private School for Girls in the
West Midlands. Louise was still Art Mistress there, and
owed her continued health and sanity to the habit of
removing herself out of the trouble zone.
When Louise had gone to her own room, I washed,
changed into a white frock with a wide blue belt, and did
my face and hair very slowly. It was still hot, and the late
sun’s rays fell obliquely across the balcony, through the
half-opened shutter, in a shaft of copper-gold. Motionless,
the shadows of the thin leaves traced a pattern across it
as delicate and precise as a Chinese painting on silk, the
image of the tree, brushed in like that by the sun, had a
grace that the tree itself gave no hint of, for it was merely
one of the nameless spindly affairs, parched and dustladen, that struggled up towards the sky from their pots
in the hotel out below.
The courtyard was empty: people were still resting,
or changing, or, if they were the mad English, walking
out in the afternoon sun. A white-painted trellis wall
separated the court on one side from the street, and
beyond it people, mules, cars, occasionally even buses,
moved about their business up and down the narrow
thoroughfare. But inside the vine-covered trellis it was
very still and peaceful.
Then fate took a hand. The first cue I had of it was the
violent shaking of the shadows on the balcony. Then
the ginger cat shot on to my balcony and sent down on
her assailant the look to end all looks, and sat calmly
down to wash. From below a rush and a volley of barking
explained everything.
Then came a crash, and the sound of running feet.
The courtyard, formerly so empty and peaceful, seemed
all of a sudden remarkably full of a boy and a large,
nondescript dog. The latter, with his earnest gaze still on
the balcony, was leaping futilely up and down, pouring
out rage, hatred and excitement, while the boy tried with
one hand to catch and quell him and with the other to lift
one of the tables which had been knocked on to its side.
It was, luckily, not one of those which had been set for
dinner.
The boy looked up and saw me. He straightened, pushed
his hair back from his forehead, and grinned.
“My French isn’t terribly good,” I said. “Do you speak
English?”
He looked immensely pleased.
“Well, as a matter of fact, I am English,” he admitted. ”My
name’s David,” he said. “David Shelley.”
Well, I was into the play.
I judged him to be about thirteen – who was lucky enough
to be enjoying a holiday in the South of France.
Before I could speak again we were interrupted by a
woman who came in through the vine-trellis, from the
street. She was, I guessed, thirty-five. She was also
blonde, tall, and quite the most beautiful woman I had
ever seen. The simple cream dress she wore must have
been one of Dior’s favourite dreams, and the bill for it her
husband’s nightmare.
She did not see me at all, which again was perfectly
natural. She paused a moment when she saw the boy
and the dog, then came forward with a kind of eyecompelling glance which would have turned heads in
Piccadilly on a wet Monday morning.
She paused and spoke. Her voice was pleasant,
her English perfect, but her accent was that of a
Frenchwoman.
“David.”
No reply.
“Mon fils... “
Her son? He did not glance up. “Don’t you know what
time it is? Hurry up and change. It’s nearly dinner time.”
Without a word the boy went into the hotel, trailing
a somewhat subdued dog after him on the end of a
string. His mother stared after him for a moment, with
an expression half puzzled, half exasperated. Then she
gave a smiling little shrug of the shoulders and went into
the hotel after the boy.
I picked my bag up and went downstairs for a drink.
STEWART, Mary. Madam, will you talk?. Hodder and
Stoughton: Coronet Books, 1977, p. 5-14 (Edited).
The story is supposed to be about:
Ano: 2018
Banca:
FUNDEP (Gestão de Concursos)
Órgão:
Prefeitura de São João del Rei - MG
Prova:
FUNDEP (Gestão de Concursos) - 2018 - Prefeitura de São João del Rei - MG - Professor de Educação Básica - Língua Inglesa |
Q1109966
Inglês
Texto associado
INSTRUCTION: Now read carefully the next text; then mark the alternatives that answer the questions or complete the sentences in the question.
As it turned out, there were more than enough strawberries for supper. Julie didn’t come back.
The dinner, though delicious, could hardly be said to be festive. It was as if all the accumulated tensions of the last days had gathered that evening at the dining-table, building slowly up like the thunderheads that stood steadily on the horizon outside.
Con had come in early, rather quiet, with watchful eyes, and lines from nostril to chin that I hadn’t noticed before. Grandfather seemed to have recruited his energies with his afternoon rest: his eyes were bright and a little malicious as he glanced round the table, and marked the taut air of waiting that hung over the meal. It was his moment of power, and he knew it.
If it had needed anything to bring the tensions to snapping-point, Julie’s absence provided it. At first it was only assumed that she was late, but, as the meal wore through, and it became apparent that she wasn’t coming, Grandfather started making irritatingly frequent remarks about the forgetfulness and ingratitude of young people, that were intended to sound pathetic, but only managed to sound thoroughly bad-tempered.
Con ate more or less in silence, but a silence so unrelaxed as to be almost aggressive. It was apparent that Grandfather thought so, for he kept casting bright, hard looks under his brows, and once or twice seemed on the verge of the sort of edged and provocative remark with which he had been prodding his great-nephew for days.
I drew what fire I could, chattering shamelessly, and had
the dubious satisfaction of attracting most of the old man’s
attention to myself, some of it so obviously affectionate –
pointedly so – that I saw, once or twice, Con’s glance
cross mine like the flicker of blue steel. Afterwards, I
thought, when he knows, when that restless, torturing
ambition is settled at last, it will be all right …
As Grandfather had predicted, Donald’s presence saved
the day. He seconded my efforts with great gallantry,
making several remarks at least three sentences long;
but he, too, was unable to keep his eyes from the clock,
while Lisa, presiding over a magnificent pair of ducklings
à la Rouennaise, and the strawberries hastily assembled
into whipped cream Chantilly, merely sat unhelpfully
silent and worried, and, in consequence, looking sour.
The end of the meal came, and the coffee, and still no
Julie. We all left the dining-room together.
STEWART, Mary. The Ivy Tree.
Great Britain: Coronet Edition, 1987 (Adapted).
The sentence “The dinner, though delicious, could hardly
be said to be festive” cannot be rewritten as:
Ano: 2018
Banca:
FUNDEP (Gestão de Concursos)
Órgão:
Prefeitura de São João del Rei - MG
Prova:
FUNDEP (Gestão de Concursos) - 2018 - Prefeitura de São João del Rei - MG - Professor de Educação Básica - Língua Inglesa |
Q1109965
Inglês
Texto associado
INSTRUCTION: Now read carefully the next text; then mark the alternatives that answer the questions or complete the sentences in the question.
As it turned out, there were more than enough strawberries for supper. Julie didn’t come back.
The dinner, though delicious, could hardly be said to be festive. It was as if all the accumulated tensions of the last days had gathered that evening at the dining-table, building slowly up like the thunderheads that stood steadily on the horizon outside.
Con had come in early, rather quiet, with watchful eyes, and lines from nostril to chin that I hadn’t noticed before. Grandfather seemed to have recruited his energies with his afternoon rest: his eyes were bright and a little malicious as he glanced round the table, and marked the taut air of waiting that hung over the meal. It was his moment of power, and he knew it.
If it had needed anything to bring the tensions to snapping-point, Julie’s absence provided it. At first it was only assumed that she was late, but, as the meal wore through, and it became apparent that she wasn’t coming, Grandfather started making irritatingly frequent remarks about the forgetfulness and ingratitude of young people, that were intended to sound pathetic, but only managed to sound thoroughly bad-tempered.
Con ate more or less in silence, but a silence so unrelaxed as to be almost aggressive. It was apparent that Grandfather thought so, for he kept casting bright, hard looks under his brows, and once or twice seemed on the verge of the sort of edged and provocative remark with which he had been prodding his great-nephew for days.
I drew what fire I could, chattering shamelessly, and had
the dubious satisfaction of attracting most of the old man’s
attention to myself, some of it so obviously affectionate –
pointedly so – that I saw, once or twice, Con’s glance
cross mine like the flicker of blue steel. Afterwards, I
thought, when he knows, when that restless, torturing
ambition is settled at last, it will be all right …
As Grandfather had predicted, Donald’s presence saved
the day. He seconded my efforts with great gallantry,
making several remarks at least three sentences long;
but he, too, was unable to keep his eyes from the clock,
while Lisa, presiding over a magnificent pair of ducklings
à la Rouennaise, and the strawberries hastily assembled
into whipped cream Chantilly, merely sat unhelpfully
silent and worried, and, in consequence, looking sour.
The end of the meal came, and the coffee, and still no
Julie. We all left the dining-room together.
STEWART, Mary. The Ivy Tree.
Great Britain: Coronet Edition, 1987 (Adapted).
In the sentence “Grandfather started making irritatingly
frequent remarks about the forgetfulness and ingratitude
of young people, that were intended to sound pathetic…”,
the word that refers to
Ano: 2018
Banca:
FUNDEP (Gestão de Concursos)
Órgão:
Prefeitura de São João del Rei - MG
Prova:
FUNDEP (Gestão de Concursos) - 2018 - Prefeitura de São João del Rei - MG - Professor de Educação Básica - Língua Inglesa |
Q1109963
Inglês
Texto associado
INSTRUCTION: Now read carefully the next text; then mark the alternatives that answer the questions or complete the sentences in the question.
As it turned out, there were more than enough strawberries for supper. Julie didn’t come back.
The dinner, though delicious, could hardly be said to be festive. It was as if all the accumulated tensions of the last days had gathered that evening at the dining-table, building slowly up like the thunderheads that stood steadily on the horizon outside.
Con had come in early, rather quiet, with watchful eyes, and lines from nostril to chin that I hadn’t noticed before. Grandfather seemed to have recruited his energies with his afternoon rest: his eyes were bright and a little malicious as he glanced round the table, and marked the taut air of waiting that hung over the meal. It was his moment of power, and he knew it.
If it had needed anything to bring the tensions to snapping-point, Julie’s absence provided it. At first it was only assumed that she was late, but, as the meal wore through, and it became apparent that she wasn’t coming, Grandfather started making irritatingly frequent remarks about the forgetfulness and ingratitude of young people, that were intended to sound pathetic, but only managed to sound thoroughly bad-tempered.
Con ate more or less in silence, but a silence so unrelaxed as to be almost aggressive. It was apparent that Grandfather thought so, for he kept casting bright, hard looks under his brows, and once or twice seemed on the verge of the sort of edged and provocative remark with which he had been prodding his great-nephew for days.
I drew what fire I could, chattering shamelessly, and had
the dubious satisfaction of attracting most of the old man’s
attention to myself, some of it so obviously affectionate –
pointedly so – that I saw, once or twice, Con’s glance
cross mine like the flicker of blue steel. Afterwards, I
thought, when he knows, when that restless, torturing
ambition is settled at last, it will be all right …
As Grandfather had predicted, Donald’s presence saved
the day. He seconded my efforts with great gallantry,
making several remarks at least three sentences long;
but he, too, was unable to keep his eyes from the clock,
while Lisa, presiding over a magnificent pair of ducklings
à la Rouennaise, and the strawberries hastily assembled
into whipped cream Chantilly, merely sat unhelpfully
silent and worried, and, in consequence, looking sour.
The end of the meal came, and the coffee, and still no
Julie. We all left the dining-room together.
STEWART, Mary. The Ivy Tree.
Great Britain: Coronet Edition, 1987 (Adapted).
The sentence “At first it was only assumed that she was
late” in the 4th paragraph, has a verb in the passive
voice. The active sentence would be:
Ano: 2018
Banca:
FUNDEP (Gestão de Concursos)
Órgão:
Prefeitura de São João del Rei - MG
Prova:
FUNDEP (Gestão de Concursos) - 2018 - Prefeitura de São João del Rei - MG - Professor de Educação Básica - Língua Inglesa |
Q1109962
Inglês
Texto associado
INSTRUCTION: Now read carefully the next text; then mark the alternatives that answer the questions or complete the sentences in the question.
As it turned out, there were more than enough strawberries for supper. Julie didn’t come back.
The dinner, though delicious, could hardly be said to be festive. It was as if all the accumulated tensions of the last days had gathered that evening at the dining-table, building slowly up like the thunderheads that stood steadily on the horizon outside.
Con had come in early, rather quiet, with watchful eyes, and lines from nostril to chin that I hadn’t noticed before. Grandfather seemed to have recruited his energies with his afternoon rest: his eyes were bright and a little malicious as he glanced round the table, and marked the taut air of waiting that hung over the meal. It was his moment of power, and he knew it.
If it had needed anything to bring the tensions to snapping-point, Julie’s absence provided it. At first it was only assumed that she was late, but, as the meal wore through, and it became apparent that she wasn’t coming, Grandfather started making irritatingly frequent remarks about the forgetfulness and ingratitude of young people, that were intended to sound pathetic, but only managed to sound thoroughly bad-tempered.
Con ate more or less in silence, but a silence so unrelaxed as to be almost aggressive. It was apparent that Grandfather thought so, for he kept casting bright, hard looks under his brows, and once or twice seemed on the verge of the sort of edged and provocative remark with which he had been prodding his great-nephew for days.
I drew what fire I could, chattering shamelessly, and had
the dubious satisfaction of attracting most of the old man’s
attention to myself, some of it so obviously affectionate –
pointedly so – that I saw, once or twice, Con’s glance
cross mine like the flicker of blue steel. Afterwards, I
thought, when he knows, when that restless, torturing
ambition is settled at last, it will be all right …
As Grandfather had predicted, Donald’s presence saved
the day. He seconded my efforts with great gallantry,
making several remarks at least three sentences long;
but he, too, was unable to keep his eyes from the clock,
while Lisa, presiding over a magnificent pair of ducklings
à la Rouennaise, and the strawberries hastily assembled
into whipped cream Chantilly, merely sat unhelpfully
silent and worried, and, in consequence, looking sour.
The end of the meal came, and the coffee, and still no
Julie. We all left the dining-room together.
STEWART, Mary. The Ivy Tree.
Great Britain: Coronet Edition, 1987 (Adapted).
The excerpt of Mary Stewart’s novel depicts
Ano: 2018
Banca:
FUNDEP (Gestão de Concursos)
Órgão:
Prefeitura de São João del Rei - MG
Prova:
FUNDEP (Gestão de Concursos) - 2018 - Prefeitura de São João del Rei - MG - Professor de Educação Básica - Língua Inglesa |
Q1109961
Inglês
Texto associado
INSTRUCTION: Read carefully the next text; then mark
the alternatives that answer the questions or complete
the sentences in the question.
Four ways to give ELL students feedback on
their writing
Larry Ferlazzo
There does not seem to be clarity among researchers
about the best ways to assist ELLs in revising their
writing, but they all seem to agree that one of the
best things teachers can do is to give ELLs more time
- more time to write, more time to think, more time to
revise. This need is one of the major reasons why many
researchers recommend including an opportunity for
peer review and feedback - this process provides more
time, as well as providing social support.
One element that we have students use in this process:
1. After students have completed their draft on the
computer using Microsoft Word or Google Docs (taking
advantage of the spelling and grammar tools available on
each), they print out two copies of their essay - one is for
their peer reviewer. Each student also gets one copy of
the peer review sheet.
The first student who is getting their essay reviewed
reads the essay aloud and the reviewer follows along
on his/her copy. During this time, both the writer and the
reviewer make notes about mistakes and improvements,
primarily targeting grammar and sentence construction
issues. After the writer is done reading, both he/she and
the reviewer discuss the points they both noted. Then,
the reviewer goes through the Peer Review sheet one
section at a time taking a minute or so to silently read
that section of the essay and noting suggestions on
the sheet. After he/she is done with each section, the
reviewer shares comments with the writer, who makes
notes on his/her copy of the essay. This process is
repeated until the entire sheet is completed, and then the
roles are reversed.
Note that teachers will probably want to modify the Peer
Review Sheet to reflect the essay their students are
writing.
2. The teachers will then quickly review this “marked-up”
version of the essay with the student and, depending on
their English proficiency and overall confidence level, may
give specific feedback on one or two grammar issues by
pointing at the mistake and having students identify the
correction. More importantly, they’ll note to themselves
what specific skills they need to cover in future lessons.
3. Students will return to the electronic version of the
essay they saved and make the revisions identified in the
peer review process and in the follow-up conversation
teachers had with them.
Pointing
This is a simple way to provide feedback.
A number of studies suggest that correction -- either
through prompts that point out the error to a student and
require an immediate attempt at a “repair” or through
“recasts” when teachers rephrase correctly what the
student said -- can be a useful tool to assist language
acquisition. When teachers see a written mistake,
they commonly point to it - whether it be a word or a
punctuation issue. Students are typically then able to
correct it then and there.
Available at: <https://www.teachingenglish.org.uk/blogs/larryferlazzo/larry-ferlazzo-four-ways-give-ell-students-feedbacktheir-writing>. Acessed on: July 15th, 2018 (Adapted).
The process the article is recommending helps students to
Ano: 2018
Banca:
FUNDEP (Gestão de Concursos)
Órgão:
Prefeitura de São João del Rei - MG
Prova:
FUNDEP (Gestão de Concursos) - 2018 - Prefeitura de São João del Rei - MG - Professor de Educação Básica - Língua Inglesa |
Q1109960
Inglês
Texto associado
INSTRUCTION: Read carefully the next text; then mark
the alternatives that answer the questions or complete
the sentences in the question.
Four ways to give ELL students feedback on
their writing
Larry Ferlazzo
There does not seem to be clarity among researchers
about the best ways to assist ELLs in revising their
writing, but they all seem to agree that one of the
best things teachers can do is to give ELLs more time
- more time to write, more time to think, more time to
revise. This need is one of the major reasons why many
researchers recommend including an opportunity for
peer review and feedback - this process provides more
time, as well as providing social support.
One element that we have students use in this process:
1. After students have completed their draft on the
computer using Microsoft Word or Google Docs (taking
advantage of the spelling and grammar tools available on
each), they print out two copies of their essay - one is for
their peer reviewer. Each student also gets one copy of
the peer review sheet.
The first student who is getting their essay reviewed
reads the essay aloud and the reviewer follows along
on his/her copy. During this time, both the writer and the
reviewer make notes about mistakes and improvements,
primarily targeting grammar and sentence construction
issues. After the writer is done reading, both he/she and
the reviewer discuss the points they both noted. Then,
the reviewer goes through the Peer Review sheet one
section at a time taking a minute or so to silently read
that section of the essay and noting suggestions on
the sheet. After he/she is done with each section, the
reviewer shares comments with the writer, who makes
notes on his/her copy of the essay. This process is
repeated until the entire sheet is completed, and then the
roles are reversed.
Note that teachers will probably want to modify the Peer
Review Sheet to reflect the essay their students are
writing.
2. The teachers will then quickly review this “marked-up”
version of the essay with the student and, depending on
their English proficiency and overall confidence level, may
give specific feedback on one or two grammar issues by
pointing at the mistake and having students identify the
correction. More importantly, they’ll note to themselves
what specific skills they need to cover in future lessons.
3. Students will return to the electronic version of the
essay they saved and make the revisions identified in the
peer review process and in the follow-up conversation
teachers had with them.
Pointing
This is a simple way to provide feedback.
A number of studies suggest that correction -- either
through prompts that point out the error to a student and
require an immediate attempt at a “repair” or through
“recasts” when teachers rephrase correctly what the
student said -- can be a useful tool to assist language
acquisition. When teachers see a written mistake,
they commonly point to it - whether it be a word or a
punctuation issue. Students are typically then able to
correct it then and there.
Available at: <https://www.teachingenglish.org.uk/blogs/larryferlazzo/larry-ferlazzo-four-ways-give-ell-students-feedbacktheir-writing>. Acessed on: July 15th, 2018 (Adapted).
The main thing the text is recommending for the
development of students’ writing process is
Ano: 2018
Banca:
FUNDEP (Gestão de Concursos)
Órgão:
Prefeitura de São João del Rei - MG
Prova:
FUNDEP (Gestão de Concursos) - 2018 - Prefeitura de São João del Rei - MG - Professor de Educação Básica - Língua Inglesa |
Q1109959
Inglês
Texto associado
INSTRUCTION: Read carefully the next text; then mark
the alternatives that answer the questions or complete
the sentences in the question.
Four ways to give ELL students feedback on
their writing
Larry Ferlazzo
There does not seem to be clarity among researchers
about the best ways to assist ELLs in revising their
writing, but they all seem to agree that one of the
best things teachers can do is to give ELLs more time
- more time to write, more time to think, more time to
revise. This need is one of the major reasons why many
researchers recommend including an opportunity for
peer review and feedback - this process provides more
time, as well as providing social support.
One element that we have students use in this process:
1. After students have completed their draft on the
computer using Microsoft Word or Google Docs (taking
advantage of the spelling and grammar tools available on
each), they print out two copies of their essay - one is for
their peer reviewer. Each student also gets one copy of
the peer review sheet.
The first student who is getting their essay reviewed
reads the essay aloud and the reviewer follows along
on his/her copy. During this time, both the writer and the
reviewer make notes about mistakes and improvements,
primarily targeting grammar and sentence construction
issues. After the writer is done reading, both he/she and
the reviewer discuss the points they both noted. Then,
the reviewer goes through the Peer Review sheet one
section at a time taking a minute or so to silently read
that section of the essay and noting suggestions on
the sheet. After he/she is done with each section, the
reviewer shares comments with the writer, who makes
notes on his/her copy of the essay. This process is
repeated until the entire sheet is completed, and then the
roles are reversed.
Note that teachers will probably want to modify the Peer
Review Sheet to reflect the essay their students are
writing.
2. The teachers will then quickly review this “marked-up”
version of the essay with the student and, depending on
their English proficiency and overall confidence level, may
give specific feedback on one or two grammar issues by
pointing at the mistake and having students identify the
correction. More importantly, they’ll note to themselves
what specific skills they need to cover in future lessons.
3. Students will return to the electronic version of the
essay they saved and make the revisions identified in the
peer review process and in the follow-up conversation
teachers had with them.
Pointing
This is a simple way to provide feedback.
A number of studies suggest that correction -- either
through prompts that point out the error to a student and
require an immediate attempt at a “repair” or through
“recasts” when teachers rephrase correctly what the
student said -- can be a useful tool to assist language
acquisition. When teachers see a written mistake,
they commonly point to it - whether it be a word or a
punctuation issue. Students are typically then able to
correct it then and there.
Available at: <https://www.teachingenglish.org.uk/blogs/larryferlazzo/larry-ferlazzo-four-ways-give-ell-students-feedbacktheir-writing>. Acessed on: July 15th, 2018 (Adapted).
According to the text, what ELLs students should not
have from their teachers is more time to
Ano: 2018
Banca:
FUNDEP (Gestão de Concursos)
Órgão:
Prefeitura de São João del Rei - MG
Prova:
FUNDEP (Gestão de Concursos) - 2018 - Prefeitura de São João del Rei - MG - Professor de Educação Básica - Língua Inglesa |
Q1109958
Inglês
Texto associado
INSTRUCTION: Now read carefully the text below;
then mark the alternatives that answer the questions or
complete the sentences in the question.
Amy watched six taxis avoid her and go deliberately
towards other people. Then she began to realise she
was suffering from advanced paranoia and that she had
better cut her losses and take the tube home. She was
already so late and angry, that the lurching crowded
journey couldn’t make her much worse. And there was
the danger that if she stood much longer on the side of
the street being ignored by rush hour taxi drivers she
might lose her small remaining ration of sanity. And she
needed to hold on to what she had for tonight.
Tonight Ed’s sister and her husband were coming to
dinner. Tonight, for the first time, she would meet the
Big Mama figure in Ed’s American family, the one they
all bowed to, the one Ed had practically written to for
permission to marry Amy. At the time Amy had thought
it funny; she had even suggested that her dental reports
and Photostats of her GCE certificates be sent to New
York. But three years later, after a period of watching Ed
write his monthly letter to his big sister Bella, she found
it less funny. She was never shown those letters and in
pique she had opened one before posting it. It was an
infantile report on how their life had been progressing
since last month: childish details about the floor covering
they had bought for the kitchen, aspirations that Ed’s
salary would be reviewed and upped. Praise for a new
dress that Amy had bought, minutiae about a picnic they
had had with another couple. It had made Amy uneasy,
because it had made Ed seem retarded. It was the kind
of letter that a mother might expect from a small son
who had gone off to summer camp, not something that a
sister in far away America should need or want.
Ed had been euphoric about the visit. It had been
planned for over three months. Bella and her husband
Blair were coming to London for three days as part of
a European tour. They would arrive in the morning;
they did not want to be met, they preferred to recover
from their jet lag alone in the privacy of a good
hotel with a comfortable bedroom and bathroom.
Fully refreshed, at seven p.m. they would come and see
their beloved Ed and welcome their new sister Amy to the
family. Next day there would be a tour to Windsor and an
evening at the theatre, with a dinner for the four of them.
And on the Saturday morning, Amy might kindly take her
new sister Bella shopping, and point out the best places,
introduce her to the heads of departments in the better
stores. They would have a super girly lunch, and then
Bella and Blair should fly out of their lives to Paris.
Normally, on any ordinary Thursday, Amy came home
from Harley Street, where she worked as a doctor’s
receptionist, took off her shoes, put on her slippers,
unpacked her shopping, organized a meal, lit the fire and
then Ed would arrive home. Their evenings had begun to
have a regular pattern. Ed came home tense and tired.
Little by little, in front of the fire, he would unwind; little
by little he relaxed his grip on the file of papers he had
brought back from the office. He would have a sherry, his
face would lose its lines; and then he would agree really
that there was no point in trying to do too much work in
the evening.
And afterwards, he would carve away happily at the table
he was making, or watch television, or do the crossword
with Amy; and she realized happily that she was
essential to him, because only her kind of understanding
could make him uncoil and regard his life as a happy,
unworrying thing.
That was all before the threatened visit of Bella.
In: BINCHY, Maeve. Victoria Line, Central Line. Hodder and
Stoughton: Coronet Books, 1982, p.11-12.
In the sentence “And she needed to hold on to what she
had for tonight.”, the word what stands for
Ano: 2018
Banca:
FUNDEP (Gestão de Concursos)
Órgão:
Prefeitura de São João del Rei - MG
Prova:
FUNDEP (Gestão de Concursos) - 2018 - Prefeitura de São João del Rei - MG - Professor de Educação Básica - Língua Inglesa |
Q1109957
Inglês
Texto associado
INSTRUCTION: Now read carefully the text below;
then mark the alternatives that answer the questions or
complete the sentences in the question.
Amy watched six taxis avoid her and go deliberately
towards other people. Then she began to realise she
was suffering from advanced paranoia and that she had
better cut her losses and take the tube home. She was
already so late and angry, that the lurching crowded
journey couldn’t make her much worse. And there was
the danger that if she stood much longer on the side of
the street being ignored by rush hour taxi drivers she
might lose her small remaining ration of sanity. And she
needed to hold on to what she had for tonight.
Tonight Ed’s sister and her husband were coming to
dinner. Tonight, for the first time, she would meet the
Big Mama figure in Ed’s American family, the one they
all bowed to, the one Ed had practically written to for
permission to marry Amy. At the time Amy had thought
it funny; she had even suggested that her dental reports
and Photostats of her GCE certificates be sent to New
York. But three years later, after a period of watching Ed
write his monthly letter to his big sister Bella, she found
it less funny. She was never shown those letters and in
pique she had opened one before posting it. It was an
infantile report on how their life had been progressing
since last month: childish details about the floor covering
they had bought for the kitchen, aspirations that Ed’s
salary would be reviewed and upped. Praise for a new
dress that Amy had bought, minutiae about a picnic they
had had with another couple. It had made Amy uneasy,
because it had made Ed seem retarded. It was the kind
of letter that a mother might expect from a small son
who had gone off to summer camp, not something that a
sister in far away America should need or want.
Ed had been euphoric about the visit. It had been
planned for over three months. Bella and her husband
Blair were coming to London for three days as part of
a European tour. They would arrive in the morning;
they did not want to be met, they preferred to recover
from their jet lag alone in the privacy of a good
hotel with a comfortable bedroom and bathroom.
Fully refreshed, at seven p.m. they would come and see
their beloved Ed and welcome their new sister Amy to the
family. Next day there would be a tour to Windsor and an
evening at the theatre, with a dinner for the four of them.
And on the Saturday morning, Amy might kindly take her
new sister Bella shopping, and point out the best places,
introduce her to the heads of departments in the better
stores. They would have a super girly lunch, and then
Bella and Blair should fly out of their lives to Paris.
Normally, on any ordinary Thursday, Amy came home
from Harley Street, where she worked as a doctor’s
receptionist, took off her shoes, put on her slippers,
unpacked her shopping, organized a meal, lit the fire and
then Ed would arrive home. Their evenings had begun to
have a regular pattern. Ed came home tense and tired.
Little by little, in front of the fire, he would unwind; little
by little he relaxed his grip on the file of papers he had
brought back from the office. He would have a sherry, his
face would lose its lines; and then he would agree really
that there was no point in trying to do too much work in
the evening.
And afterwards, he would carve away happily at the table
he was making, or watch television, or do the crossword
with Amy; and she realized happily that she was
essential to him, because only her kind of understanding
could make him uncoil and regard his life as a happy,
unworrying thing.
That was all before the threatened visit of Bella.
In: BINCHY, Maeve. Victoria Line, Central Line. Hodder and
Stoughton: Coronet Books, 1982, p.11-12.
On paragraph 4, In the sentence “ … he would agree
really that there was no point in trying to do too much
work in the evening”, Ed’s exact words would be:
Ano: 2018
Banca:
FUNDEP (Gestão de Concursos)
Órgão:
Prefeitura de São João del Rei - MG
Prova:
FUNDEP (Gestão de Concursos) - 2018 - Prefeitura de São João del Rei - MG - Professor de Educação Básica - Língua Inglesa |
Q1109956
Inglês
Texto associado
INSTRUCTION: Now read carefully the text below;
then mark the alternatives that answer the questions or
complete the sentences in the question.
Amy watched six taxis avoid her and go deliberately
towards other people. Then she began to realise she
was suffering from advanced paranoia and that she had
better cut her losses and take the tube home. She was
already so late and angry, that the lurching crowded
journey couldn’t make her much worse. And there was
the danger that if she stood much longer on the side of
the street being ignored by rush hour taxi drivers she
might lose her small remaining ration of sanity. And she
needed to hold on to what she had for tonight.
Tonight Ed’s sister and her husband were coming to
dinner. Tonight, for the first time, she would meet the
Big Mama figure in Ed’s American family, the one they
all bowed to, the one Ed had practically written to for
permission to marry Amy. At the time Amy had thought
it funny; she had even suggested that her dental reports
and Photostats of her GCE certificates be sent to New
York. But three years later, after a period of watching Ed
write his monthly letter to his big sister Bella, she found
it less funny. She was never shown those letters and in
pique she had opened one before posting it. It was an
infantile report on how their life had been progressing
since last month: childish details about the floor covering
they had bought for the kitchen, aspirations that Ed’s
salary would be reviewed and upped. Praise for a new
dress that Amy had bought, minutiae about a picnic they
had had with another couple. It had made Amy uneasy,
because it had made Ed seem retarded. It was the kind
of letter that a mother might expect from a small son
who had gone off to summer camp, not something that a
sister in far away America should need or want.
Ed had been euphoric about the visit. It had been
planned for over three months. Bella and her husband
Blair were coming to London for three days as part of
a European tour. They would arrive in the morning;
they did not want to be met, they preferred to recover
from their jet lag alone in the privacy of a good
hotel with a comfortable bedroom and bathroom.
Fully refreshed, at seven p.m. they would come and see
their beloved Ed and welcome their new sister Amy to the
family. Next day there would be a tour to Windsor and an
evening at the theatre, with a dinner for the four of them.
And on the Saturday morning, Amy might kindly take her
new sister Bella shopping, and point out the best places,
introduce her to the heads of departments in the better
stores. They would have a super girly lunch, and then
Bella and Blair should fly out of their lives to Paris.
Normally, on any ordinary Thursday, Amy came home
from Harley Street, where she worked as a doctor’s
receptionist, took off her shoes, put on her slippers,
unpacked her shopping, organized a meal, lit the fire and
then Ed would arrive home. Their evenings had begun to
have a regular pattern. Ed came home tense and tired.
Little by little, in front of the fire, he would unwind; little
by little he relaxed his grip on the file of papers he had
brought back from the office. He would have a sherry, his
face would lose its lines; and then he would agree really
that there was no point in trying to do too much work in
the evening.
And afterwards, he would carve away happily at the table
he was making, or watch television, or do the crossword
with Amy; and she realized happily that she was
essential to him, because only her kind of understanding
could make him uncoil and regard his life as a happy,
unworrying thing.
That was all before the threatened visit of Bella.
In: BINCHY, Maeve. Victoria Line, Central Line. Hodder and
Stoughton: Coronet Books, 1982, p.11-12.
In the third paragraph of the text, the pronoun their
appears 4 times. In the first three times, in the sentences
“they preferred to recover from their jet lag alone (…) they
would come and see their beloved Ed and welcome their
new sister Amy to the family…” the pronoun refers to
Ano: 2018
Banca:
FUNDEP (Gestão de Concursos)
Órgão:
Prefeitura de São João del Rei - MG
Prova:
FUNDEP (Gestão de Concursos) - 2018 - Prefeitura de São João del Rei - MG - Professor de Educação Básica - Língua Inglesa |
Q1109955
Inglês
Texto associado
INSTRUCTION: Now read carefully the text below;
then mark the alternatives that answer the questions or
complete the sentences in the question.
Amy watched six taxis avoid her and go deliberately
towards other people. Then she began to realise she
was suffering from advanced paranoia and that she had
better cut her losses and take the tube home. She was
already so late and angry, that the lurching crowded
journey couldn’t make her much worse. And there was
the danger that if she stood much longer on the side of
the street being ignored by rush hour taxi drivers she
might lose her small remaining ration of sanity. And she
needed to hold on to what she had for tonight.
Tonight Ed’s sister and her husband were coming to
dinner. Tonight, for the first time, she would meet the
Big Mama figure in Ed’s American family, the one they
all bowed to, the one Ed had practically written to for
permission to marry Amy. At the time Amy had thought
it funny; she had even suggested that her dental reports
and Photostats of her GCE certificates be sent to New
York. But three years later, after a period of watching Ed
write his monthly letter to his big sister Bella, she found
it less funny. She was never shown those letters and in
pique she had opened one before posting it. It was an
infantile report on how their life had been progressing
since last month: childish details about the floor covering
they had bought for the kitchen, aspirations that Ed’s
salary would be reviewed and upped. Praise for a new
dress that Amy had bought, minutiae about a picnic they
had had with another couple. It had made Amy uneasy,
because it had made Ed seem retarded. It was the kind
of letter that a mother might expect from a small son
who had gone off to summer camp, not something that a
sister in far away America should need or want.
Ed had been euphoric about the visit. It had been
planned for over three months. Bella and her husband
Blair were coming to London for three days as part of
a European tour. They would arrive in the morning;
they did not want to be met, they preferred to recover
from their jet lag alone in the privacy of a good
hotel with a comfortable bedroom and bathroom.
Fully refreshed, at seven p.m. they would come and see
their beloved Ed and welcome their new sister Amy to the
family. Next day there would be a tour to Windsor and an
evening at the theatre, with a dinner for the four of them.
And on the Saturday morning, Amy might kindly take her
new sister Bella shopping, and point out the best places,
introduce her to the heads of departments in the better
stores. They would have a super girly lunch, and then
Bella and Blair should fly out of their lives to Paris.
Normally, on any ordinary Thursday, Amy came home
from Harley Street, where she worked as a doctor’s
receptionist, took off her shoes, put on her slippers,
unpacked her shopping, organized a meal, lit the fire and
then Ed would arrive home. Their evenings had begun to
have a regular pattern. Ed came home tense and tired.
Little by little, in front of the fire, he would unwind; little
by little he relaxed his grip on the file of papers he had
brought back from the office. He would have a sherry, his
face would lose its lines; and then he would agree really
that there was no point in trying to do too much work in
the evening.
And afterwards, he would carve away happily at the table
he was making, or watch television, or do the crossword
with Amy; and she realized happily that she was
essential to him, because only her kind of understanding
could make him uncoil and regard his life as a happy,
unworrying thing.
That was all before the threatened visit of Bella.
In: BINCHY, Maeve. Victoria Line, Central Line. Hodder and
Stoughton: Coronet Books, 1982, p.11-12.
Amy was worried because
Ano: 2018
Banca:
FUNDEP (Gestão de Concursos)
Órgão:
Prefeitura de São João del Rei - MG
Prova:
FUNDEP (Gestão de Concursos) - 2018 - Prefeitura de São João del Rei - MG - Professor de Educação Básica - Língua Inglesa |
Q1109954
Inglês
Texto associado
INSTRUCTION: Now read carefully the text below;
then mark the alternatives that answer the questions or
complete the sentences in the question.
Amy watched six taxis avoid her and go deliberately
towards other people. Then she began to realise she
was suffering from advanced paranoia and that she had
better cut her losses and take the tube home. She was
already so late and angry, that the lurching crowded
journey couldn’t make her much worse. And there was
the danger that if she stood much longer on the side of
the street being ignored by rush hour taxi drivers she
might lose her small remaining ration of sanity. And she
needed to hold on to what she had for tonight.
Tonight Ed’s sister and her husband were coming to
dinner. Tonight, for the first time, she would meet the
Big Mama figure in Ed’s American family, the one they
all bowed to, the one Ed had practically written to for
permission to marry Amy. At the time Amy had thought
it funny; she had even suggested that her dental reports
and Photostats of her GCE certificates be sent to New
York. But three years later, after a period of watching Ed
write his monthly letter to his big sister Bella, she found
it less funny. She was never shown those letters and in
pique she had opened one before posting it. It was an
infantile report on how their life had been progressing
since last month: childish details about the floor covering
they had bought for the kitchen, aspirations that Ed’s
salary would be reviewed and upped. Praise for a new
dress that Amy had bought, minutiae about a picnic they
had had with another couple. It had made Amy uneasy,
because it had made Ed seem retarded. It was the kind
of letter that a mother might expect from a small son
who had gone off to summer camp, not something that a
sister in far away America should need or want.
Ed had been euphoric about the visit. It had been
planned for over three months. Bella and her husband
Blair were coming to London for three days as part of
a European tour. They would arrive in the morning;
they did not want to be met, they preferred to recover
from their jet lag alone in the privacy of a good
hotel with a comfortable bedroom and bathroom.
Fully refreshed, at seven p.m. they would come and see
their beloved Ed and welcome their new sister Amy to the
family. Next day there would be a tour to Windsor and an
evening at the theatre, with a dinner for the four of them.
And on the Saturday morning, Amy might kindly take her
new sister Bella shopping, and point out the best places,
introduce her to the heads of departments in the better
stores. They would have a super girly lunch, and then
Bella and Blair should fly out of their lives to Paris.
Normally, on any ordinary Thursday, Amy came home
from Harley Street, where she worked as a doctor’s
receptionist, took off her shoes, put on her slippers,
unpacked her shopping, organized a meal, lit the fire and
then Ed would arrive home. Their evenings had begun to
have a regular pattern. Ed came home tense and tired.
Little by little, in front of the fire, he would unwind; little
by little he relaxed his grip on the file of papers he had
brought back from the office. He would have a sherry, his
face would lose its lines; and then he would agree really
that there was no point in trying to do too much work in
the evening.
And afterwards, he would carve away happily at the table
he was making, or watch television, or do the crossword
with Amy; and she realized happily that she was
essential to him, because only her kind of understanding
could make him uncoil and regard his life as a happy,
unworrying thing.
That was all before the threatened visit of Bella.
In: BINCHY, Maeve. Victoria Line, Central Line. Hodder and
Stoughton: Coronet Books, 1982, p.11-12.
Amy’s husband Ed’s sister and brother in law
Ano: 2018
Banca:
FUNDEP (Gestão de Concursos)
Órgão:
Prefeitura de São João del Rei - MG
Prova:
FUNDEP (Gestão de Concursos) - 2018 - Prefeitura de São João del Rei - MG - Professor de Educação Básica - Língua Inglesa |
Q1109953
Inglês
Texto associado
INSTRUCTION: Now read carefully the text below;
then mark the alternatives that answer the questions or
complete the sentences in the question.
Amy watched six taxis avoid her and go deliberately
towards other people. Then she began to realise she
was suffering from advanced paranoia and that she had
better cut her losses and take the tube home. She was
already so late and angry, that the lurching crowded
journey couldn’t make her much worse. And there was
the danger that if she stood much longer on the side of
the street being ignored by rush hour taxi drivers she
might lose her small remaining ration of sanity. And she
needed to hold on to what she had for tonight.
Tonight Ed’s sister and her husband were coming to
dinner. Tonight, for the first time, she would meet the
Big Mama figure in Ed’s American family, the one they
all bowed to, the one Ed had practically written to for
permission to marry Amy. At the time Amy had thought
it funny; she had even suggested that her dental reports
and Photostats of her GCE certificates be sent to New
York. But three years later, after a period of watching Ed
write his monthly letter to his big sister Bella, she found
it less funny. She was never shown those letters and in
pique she had opened one before posting it. It was an
infantile report on how their life had been progressing
since last month: childish details about the floor covering
they had bought for the kitchen, aspirations that Ed’s
salary would be reviewed and upped. Praise for a new
dress that Amy had bought, minutiae about a picnic they
had had with another couple. It had made Amy uneasy,
because it had made Ed seem retarded. It was the kind
of letter that a mother might expect from a small son
who had gone off to summer camp, not something that a
sister in far away America should need or want.
Ed had been euphoric about the visit. It had been
planned for over three months. Bella and her husband
Blair were coming to London for three days as part of
a European tour. They would arrive in the morning;
they did not want to be met, they preferred to recover
from their jet lag alone in the privacy of a good
hotel with a comfortable bedroom and bathroom.
Fully refreshed, at seven p.m. they would come and see
their beloved Ed and welcome their new sister Amy to the
family. Next day there would be a tour to Windsor and an
evening at the theatre, with a dinner for the four of them.
And on the Saturday morning, Amy might kindly take her
new sister Bella shopping, and point out the best places,
introduce her to the heads of departments in the better
stores. They would have a super girly lunch, and then
Bella and Blair should fly out of their lives to Paris.
Normally, on any ordinary Thursday, Amy came home
from Harley Street, where she worked as a doctor’s
receptionist, took off her shoes, put on her slippers,
unpacked her shopping, organized a meal, lit the fire and
then Ed would arrive home. Their evenings had begun to
have a regular pattern. Ed came home tense and tired.
Little by little, in front of the fire, he would unwind; little
by little he relaxed his grip on the file of papers he had
brought back from the office. He would have a sherry, his
face would lose its lines; and then he would agree really
that there was no point in trying to do too much work in
the evening.
And afterwards, he would carve away happily at the table
he was making, or watch television, or do the crossword
with Amy; and she realized happily that she was
essential to him, because only her kind of understanding
could make him uncoil and regard his life as a happy,
unworrying thing.
That was all before the threatened visit of Bella.
In: BINCHY, Maeve. Victoria Line, Central Line. Hodder and
Stoughton: Coronet Books, 1982, p.11-12.
Reading the text, it becomes clear that Amy
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