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Mostrando entradas con la etiqueta Cataluña. Mostrar todas las entradas
Esperanto and universal communication - PAU 2015 Cataluña
>Exámenes selectividad inglés Cataluña resueltos
Today, English has no rival as an international lingua franca. However, things could have been different if Esperanto, an artificial language invented in 1887 by Ludwig Lazarus Zamenhof, a Jewish doctor from Bialystok (modern-day Poland but then part of the Russian Empire), had become a common language. Esperanto is made up of key structures from different linguistic families (Latinate, Germanic, Slavic and Semitic). The word Esperanto derives from Doktoro Esperanto (“Esperanto” translates as “one who hopes”), the pseudonym under which Zamenhof published the first grammar of Esperanto. Zamenhof’s goal was to create an easy-to-learn, politically neutral language that would transcend nationality and encourage peace and international understanding between people with different languages.
In a letter to a friend, Zamenhof explained why he was worried about human communication: “The place where I was born and spent my childhood gave direction to all my future struggles. In Bialystok the inhabitants were divided into four distinct elements: Russians, Poles, Germans and Jews; each of these spoke their own language and looked on all the others as enemies. Living in such a town made me feel the misery caused by language division. The diversity of languages is the first, or at least the most influential, basis for the separation of the human family into groups of enemies. I was brought up as an idealist. I was taught that all people were brothers, while outside in the street at every step I felt that there were no people, only Russians, Poles, Germans and Jews.”
In 1905, Esperanto’s first international congress took place in Boulogne-sur-Mer, in France. Then, in 1920, the League of Nations (the precursor of the United Nations) recommended that its member states incorporate the language, despite misgivings in France, as at that time French was the dominant international tongue. However, the advent of the Second World War and Nazi expansion put an end to the possibility of the language, which was invented by a Jew, from becoming the new international lingua franca. Nevertheless, more than a century since Zamenhof published his first grammar enthusiasts of Esperanto continue to promote the usefulness of the tongue. “Esperanto is much easier to learn than English,” says Ramon Perera, a member of the Associació Catalana d’Esperanto and a teacher of the language for the past 20 years. “Esperanto,” he says, “is a fairer language because none of its speakers have an advantage over the others.” Perera says that up to two years are needed to learn the language, “depending on the capabilities of each person, the hours dedicated to it and the level they want to reach.”
Perera began learning the language some 38 years ago when a friend lent him a book written in Esperanto. He took a four-week intensive course, which left him captivated by the language’s “simple and logical” grammar. From that moment on, he became a dedicated “Esperantist” and has since met speakers from all over Europe, something that has been aided by the advent of the Internet. “It is a language that works and that could solve the world’s communication problems,” he says. In fact, the French economist François Grin, in 2005, presented a report to the European Parliament that proposed adopting Esperanto as a common language in the European Union, which would save the Union 25 million euros every year. For the moment, that report has been filed away somewhere, but according to estimates by the World Esperanto Association, there are as many as two million Esperanto speakers who hope that one day their adopted language will take root and a new era of universal communication will begin.
Text adapted from Catalonia Today (October 31, 2013)
Are love-locks on bridges romantic or a menace? PAU Cataluña 2015
>Exámenes selectividad inglés Cataluña resueltos
Beautiful bridges in Paris are being ruined by an epidemic of padlocks. But is the growing trend for love-locks a thoughtless act of vandalism, or just a harmless expression of love?
It seemed romantic when Carolyn Barnabo and Clive Roberts attached a padlock to the Pont des Arts and symbolically threw the key into the Seine. Five years later they are married and their love is still strong, but Carolyn’s fondness for love-locks certainly isn’t. “It’s just out of control and I feel so bad that we contributed to it,” says Carolyn. “This beautiful bridge is ruined.” There were just a few love-locks on the bridge when she attached hers and posted photos on her blog. Now there are thousands on bridges all over Paris.
The locks first started appearing on bridges in Paris around 2006, shortly after young couples in Italy had begun attaching padlocks to the Ponte Milvio over Rome’s river Tiber, mimicking the protagonists of a popular Italian novel. In 2007 the mayor of Rome introduced fines for anyone leaving a padlock on this bridge. “After Rome started forbidding the locks, couples from all over Europe came to Paris,” Lorna Taylor explains. She and friend Lisa Anselmo started the No Love-Locks campaign in January 2014. “The delicate Pont des Arts, which has become a freakish mass of indistinguishable metal pieces, is now in mortal danger,” Lisa Anselmo adds. They say the City of Love has now become the City of Locks, and they have counted at least eight bridges over the Seine and three over the Canal Saint Martin where padlocks have spread “like fungus.” Anselmo thinks that this trend “defaces and damages historic structures, and it is already imposing itself on other cities around Europe, where some of the bridges involved are hundreds of years old.”
The padlock supposedly symbolises a bond between two people in love—but local authorities are now removing some padlocks from time to time. It was only after a wall on the Pont des Arts collapsed under the weight of the locks that the Paris authorities got serious about putting an end to the practice. “Some of the railings have 500 kilograms of locks by the time they are removed. The one that collapsed weighed 700 kilograms. They’re a costly problem for the city and also a safety one,” Lorna Taylor says. Now, city officials in Paris are experimenting with panels of thick glass to protect the bridges from the damage caused by padlocks.
Described as an “epidemic” by the No Love-Locks campaign, padlocks are spreading around the world, and they are no longer restricted to bridges. Love-locks have appeared on the top of the Eiffel Tower and others can be found on fences in London. And they are not restricted to tourist destinations either—four have already appeared on St Botolph’s Bridge in Boston, Lincolnshire, which only opened in February 2014. Many businesses have benefitted from this trend: some offer engraved padlocks in heart shapes and even one website suggests locations to attach them in Amsterdam, Chicago, Prague, Rome or Sydney. Lisa Anselmo says: “If a city wants to designate a space uniquely for love-locks, and restrict the practice on non-designated areas, that’s not a bad idea. The question is how to find a way for love-locks and heritage to co-exist.”
Despite attaching her own love lock in Paris five years ago, Carolyn now regrets that she contributed to this horrendous sight. “I would hate to see any beautiful bridges in England get like that. It was a nice idea, but I hope it dies out soon.”
Text adapted from BBC News (May 5, 2014)
Ma vie de prof en ZEP - PAU 2015
>Exámenes selectividad francés Cataluña resueltos
Cela fait dix-huit ans qu’Agnès Dibot, 45 ans, enseigne au collège George-Sand, un établissement de très mauvaise réputation qui compte 460 élèves, situé dans une ZEP* à Châtellerault, où, malgré les opérations de rénovation, la pauvreté persiste. 83 % de sa population est classée « défavorisée ». Ici, quelques pères Courage partent encore travailler la semaine, à Paris, à 300 km. Mais la plupart de ses habitants subsistent avec de petits boulots* ou des aides sociales. Et leurs adolescents sont scolarisés au collège George-Sand, dont les pourcentages de réussite sont parmi les plus faibles de la zone de Poitiers.
Benoît Bassereau enseigne à George-Sand depuis dix ans : « C’était une volonté de ma part ». D’où un engagement à plein temps : en plus d’être professeur principal des élèves de la section sport-études, il organise le cross annuel et le tournoi de foot. « Je donne beaucoup, parce que ce sont eux qui en ont le plus besoin », dit-il brièvement, avec un mélange de bienveillance et d’autorité.
« Est-ce qu’on a été efficace ? » La demande angoisse Benoît Santa-Cruz depuis quelque temps. « Quand le boulanger goûte son pain, il sait s’il est bon. Nous, on ne sait pas », précise ce professeur de français, 29 ans, à George-Sand depuis 2011. Il comptait y rester un an. Il est encore là. « Il y a un côté sacerdoce. On est en mission, ici », assure-t-il. « En ZEP,* c’est là qu’on apprend tout. » Benoît Santa-Cruz est présent dès 7 h 45. Il prépare sa salle, dépose les documents sur les tables pour « éviter les temps morts » : « Mon métier est un sport qui nécessite un entraînement. Pour que le savoir passe, il faut une autorité ferme sur le groupe. Si je ne prends pas l’ascendant sur eux, je n’arrive pas à faire mon cours. Mais ils demandent aussi beaucoup d’affects et de contact ». Face aux adolescents, Benoît Santa-Cruz joue un personnage, qui séduit. Il fait un show. Il parcourt à grands pas la salle, lance des « OK, c’est parti ! », claque des doigts. « On a des élèves qui ne s’intéressent pas au savoir qu’on leur propose », précise-t-il. « Le claquement des doigts, c’est pour instaurer un rituel, leur signifier qu’il faut travailler. »
« C’est un sport de combat », précise Jules Aimé, 29 ans, qui enseigne l’histoire et la géographie dans la salle d’à côté depuis 2012. Comme pour illustrer sa difficulté à transmettre son savoir, il dit : « On est face à des élèves qui sont dans un monde qu’ils ne comprennent pas ou qu’ils ne veulent pas comprendre. Ils n’ont aucun contrôle sur eux-mêmes ». En début d’année, Jules Aimé ne leur demande pas le métier de leurs parents, ce qui est inutile et stigmatisant. Certains ne le savent pas, les autres sont au chômage. « Ce qui est dur », ajoute-t-il, « c’est le désert culturel de nos gamins.* Ils ne lisent pas. Chez certains, il n’y a que la télé. Pas de livre ». Pendant le cours, lui n’utilise que l’ordinateur qui projette la leçon sur le mur : « Écrire au tableau et leur tourner le dos, en ZEP,* ce n’est pas possible », justifie-t-il. « Leur attention se relâche immédiatement. Avec le numérique, ils sont plus réactifs. » Le prof déambule dans la classe avec son clavier, le tend à l’un ou l’autre, pour qu’ils s’en servent eux-mêmes : « Ils n’ont pas forcément accès à ces outils chez eux. Ça les valorise. Ma vie de prof en ZEP,* c’est une vocation et beaucoup d’implication ».
D’après Marianne (12-18 décembre 2014)
Alerte aux « big mothers » - PAU 2015
>Exámenes selectividad francés Cataluña resueltos
Aline, 30 ans, a opté pour une caméra infrarouge afin de superviser le sommeil de Céleste, 3 ans. « Quand je travaille, parfois j’ouvre une fenêtre avec l’image transmise par la caméra sur mon fond d’écran », explique la jeune maman. « Je l’utiliserai jusqu’à ses 6-7 ans, après je lui laisserai son intimité. » Ces cordons ombilicaux high-tech laissent pourtant les pédopsychiatres* stupéfaits. « Cette hyperattention empêche l’enfant de grandir », estime le psychanalyste Michael Stora. « Les périodes d’absence du parent permettent au bébé de s’autonomiser en développant sa pensée. Si, à cause de ces objets, sa maman vient trop vite quand il pleure, elle ne lui laisse pas le temps de vivre l’expérience du manque et, ainsi, de s’individualiser. »
Pour les parents inquiets, ces appareils les inciteraient au contraire à donner plus de liberté à leur enfant. « S’ils n’avaient pas le GPS, je ne les laisserais pas rentrer à la maison à pied à midi, ils iraient à la cantine », explique Grégory, papa de Jules et Rose, 9 et 8 ans. Les géniteurs n’ont qu’une peur : la mauvaise rencontre. Pour la psychanalyste Claudia Fliess, « il faut que l’enfant apprenne qu’il est capable de se défendre par lui-même ». De son côté, Michael Stora précise : « Ces objets provoquent un paradoxe. Les parents disent à leur enfant : “ Je te fais confiance, mais parce que je te surveille ” ». Et ils créent de nouvelles angoisses. « Une fois j’ai appelé ma femme car mon fils de 5 ans n’était pas à l’école », reconnaît Max. « En fait, il était au sport. »
Le risque est grand de se perdre dans cette dynamique. Agnès, malgré les meilleures intentions du monde, l’a expérimenté. Déconcertée par la soudaine hostilité de son adolescente de 17 ans, elle a cédé à la tentation il y a quelques mois. « Elle était devenue insupportable. Un jour, je lui ai pris son téléphone. J’ai tout lu et je suis tombée des nues.* » Marie prend des drogues. Cette nuit-là, avec son mari, Agnès décide d’installer une application espionne sur le portable de Marie, qu’elle emmène par ailleurs chez un psychiatre. Dès le réveil, à la moindre minute libre, la maman inquiète se connecte pour voir si la demoiselle reste clean.* Des heures à dévorer des SMS. « Partout, j’allumais mon portable pour ne pas perdre le fil. Je lisais, je pleurais. Je suis rentrée dans sa tête. J’étais presque devenue elle. » C’est sa soeur qui va lui imposer d’arrêter. Agnès a fini par supprimer l’application. En deux secondes, elle était libérée. Et le cordon ombilical, enfin coupé. « Jamais, même sur mon lit de mort, je ne lui dirai que je l’ai espionnée. »
D’après Le Nouvel Observateur (9 octobre 2014)
Stage de survie dans les beaux quartiers - PAU francés 2015
>Exámenes selectividad francés Cataluña resueltos
À quelques stations de métro, un autre monde. En s’aventurant un peu plus loin qu’à l’habitude sur leur ligne de métro, la 13, qui part de Saint-Denis, au nord de Paris, jusque dans le fameux triangle d’or parisien, ou bien aux alentours du parc Monceau ou de la Madeleine, Loubna, Hicham, Myriam, Nora ont éprouvé le dépaysement* du navigateur débarquant en terre inconnue. « J’étais complètement stupéfaite. C’était la première fois que j’allais dans un quartier aussi riche de la capitale. Les couleurs ne sont pas du tout les mêmes que chez nous », raconte Loubna. Ainsi, tout étonne Hicham, même les oiseaux : « Les pigeons étaient vraiment différents de ceux que j’avais vus auparavant. Ils paraissaient propres, et j’avais l’impression qu’ils vivaient sans peur dans ce milieu parisien ». Même impression pour Myriam : « Tout paraît différent, l’architecture, les rues, les commerces, les bâtiments. Les lieux sont beaux ».
« La distance sociale se mesure difficilement, mais elle s’éprouve…* », résume Nicolas Jounin, professeur à l’Université de Paris-VIII, qui raconte cette expérience dans son livre Voyage de classes : entraîner ses étudiants — en grande majorité des jeunes filles de la banlieue, de familles immigrées, ouvrières, « rarement blanches » — à s’initier à l’observation sociologique des quartiers les plus riches de la capitale.
« En sociologie, ce sont des jeunes de la bourgeoisie qui étudient les milieux défavorisés, j’ai voulu renverser les rôles… » Nicolas Jounin a donc emmené ses étudiants en exploration dans ces zones du 8e arrondissement de Paris peu fréquentées. « J’ai voulu créer un dépaysement* pour mes étudiants, mais surtout leur apprendre à mener leur propre enquête. »
Avant chaque déplacement hebdomadaire sur le terrain, Nicolas Jounin leur a donné à lire des livres et des fiches. Après, les étudiants ont dû construire une méthodologie pour décrire de façon précise ce milieu qui leur était étranger. Ils ont choisi des enquêtes par questionnaires, des entretiens avec des habitants, avec des commerçants du quartier, ou même auprès des passants.
Ainsi, Laetitia a conduit un entretien avec un ancien responsable d’un grand groupe industriel dans son imposant hôtel particulier, près du parc Monceau. Parfois aimable et éloquent, parfois offensé, celui-ci, oubliant qu’il a accepté de se soumettre à une enquête universitaire, lui a reproché la « sottise » de ses questions, son ignorance du monde des affaires, sa façon de s’asseoir, etc. « J’ai tenu bon* parce que je voulais produire un travail intéressant, mais il n’a pas cessé de nous humilier. » Mais, pour Laetitia comme pour bien d’autres participants à ce cours, le plus frappant a surtout été l’ignorance des conditions de vie des autres manifestée par les habitants du 8e. « Au fond, le plus incroyable pour nous, c’était de voir que, pour lui, tout ça, cette vie de château, c’était juste banal. » Décidément, un autre monde.
D’après Le Nouvel Observateur (9 octobre 2014)
The last of the noblest generation - PAU Cataluña 2015
>Exámenes selectividad inglés Cataluña resueltos
Harry Patch, the last survivor of the First World War, and the man who reminded the modern world of its obscene massacre, died at the age of 111. His life ended on a fine summer morning in his native Somerset, many miles from the Belgian land of Ypres where so many of his comrades fell, and where he so nearly joined them. For decades he kept the sights and sounds of that terrible experience to himself. But then, at the age of 100, he began to talk…
Born in the village of Coombe Down, Harry left school at 14 for an apprenticeship with a plumber, and would, no doubt, have lived a life of peaceful anonymity if the war hadn’t been declared. Being too young at first, at the age of 17 Harry was conscripted. “I didn’t want to go and fight anyone, but it was a case of having to,” he said. He was in charge of a machine gun, and, by his 19th birthday, was in a trench in the middle of one of the most famous and bloodiest battles of the First World War: the Battle of Ypres. “Anyone who tells you he wasn’t scared is a damned liar,” Harry would later say. “We lived by the hour… You saw the sun rise; hopefully, you’d see it set. If you saw it set, you hoped you’d see it rise.”
Many didn’t. One of them was a young soldier whom Patch and his comrades found in the battlefield, badly wounded by shrapnel. “Shoot me,” he said, and then, before Harry could react, he died with the words “Mother!” on his lips. It was but one of the phantoms from the trenches that Harry carried with him until his death. Later on, in September 1917, came the German projectile which would hit Harry. It burst among his mates with such force that three of them were never found again. Harry, some metres away, was seriously wounded, his stomach pierced by shrapnel. He was taken to a CCS (casualty clearing station), where he lay, untreated in maddening pain, for one day and a half. Finally, a doctor came, and, with no anaesthetic, took out the metal while four men held him down. Although he would not be demobbed for another year, that was the end of Harry’s war. He returned home, to plumbing, marriage, two sons, and an old age that saw him survive both sons and his wife.
All this time, he had kept those memories of war to himself, telling no one. But then, as he passed his 100th birthday, a journalist called Richard Emden asked Harry if he would talk of war. He agreed and he wrote, with Richard’s help, his life story, and became a witness for those comrades who had been killed so many years before. When Richard Emden went to see him, Harry sat at a table in the morning room of his house. The conversation went mainly one-way. Harry’s mind was sharp, and his sight good, but his voice was soft and delicate, and he was practically speechless. The journalist ended the interview before he had intended, afraid to be more of an inconvenience than he had already been.
His voice and body may have died, but his words on war should live on, resonating strongly. Harry Patch had words for all his experiences. They were spoken with an anger that lasted all his adult life. “War,” he said, “is organised murder, and nothing else.”
Text adapted from The Independent (July 26, 2009)
Génération tout à l'ego - PAU 2014
>Exámenes selectividad francés Cataluña resueltos
C’est devenu une manie. Presque une obsession. Une à deux fois par semaine, Lola, 13 ans, change la photo de son profil Facebook. Sur la dernière en date, cette brunette montre son nouveau chapeau. Bingo ! Quarante-deux amis ont « liké » et seize ont fait des commentaires. Lola est sur le réseau social depuis six mois, et elle adore s’y exposer. « Facebook est comme un livre où je me raconte », dit-elle.
« Je montre ma vie, ce que je fais, les derniers vêtements que j’ai eus. » Elle n’est pas un cas isolé, les adolescents envahissent le réseau. D’après le baromètre 2012 « Enfants et Internet », 80 % des 13-15 ans et 92 % des 15-17 ans y sont inscrits et, comme Lola, 86 % de ces derniers y publient des photos. On les y voit entre copains, en vacances, en soirée. Regard droit dans l’objectif, tête de côté, poses provocantes… Ils sont totalement narcissiques, nos adolescents numériques ?* « Oui, mais c’était déjà le cas avant », estime la philosophe Anne Dalsuet. « Les réseaux sociaux donnent juste une nouvelle résonance à cette tendance. Avant, on faisait des albums photos, maintenant, on les met sur Facebook, car tout le monde a intégré le principe selon lequel ‘‘ pour exister, il faut être vu. ’’ Les jeunes aussi ».
Ils y sont même particulièrement sensibles. « C’est un âge où l’on aime être admiré, rassuré* sur son corps et sur son apparence », estime Jacques Henno, spécialiste du numérique. « Pour eux, les ‘‘ Like ’’ prouvent leur valeur », affirme le psychiatre Xavier Pommereau. Car être « liké », c’est être populaire, une notion clé pour les adolescents, un élément indispensable à la construction de leur identité.
Mais se raconter sur Internet peut être risqué car les plus jeunes postent parfois la photo ou le message de trop. « Quand ils sont derrière leur écran, ils ne mesurent pas toujours le poids des mots », dit Jacques Henno. « Mais s’ils ont écrit n’importe quoi, la ‘‘ vraie vie ’’ les rattrape le lendemain sous la forme d’une dispute à la sortie de l’école. Ils comprennent vite la leçon. »
Le temps porte aussi ses fruits. À la longue, les jeunes se lasseraient* de ce « tout à l’ego ». « Des adolescents commencent à quitter Facebook », remarque Pascal Lardellier, professeur en sciences de la communication. « Ils sont saturés d’auto-narration continue. » Julie, 15 ans, trois ans de réseau social derrière elle et 355 amis, se connecte pour écrire à ses copains qui vivent loin et retrouver des camarades de maternelle ou de primaire. « Au début, je faisais surtout attention à mon image », dit-elle, « je mettais plus de jolies photos de moi. Aujourd’hui, je trouve que ce n’est pas si intéressant de faire ça. » La jeune fille est sur Twitter depuis un an. « On s’y prend moins au sérieux. » Des adolescents utilisent aussi Instagram, un réseau social d’images, qu’ils jugent plus créatif. Comme sur Facebook, on y met des photos, mais l’idée est de donner à voir le monde. Pas seulement son nombril.
D’après Le Nouvel Observateur (17 octobre 2013)
The teacher who changed my life - PAU 2014 inglés Cataluña
>Exámenes selectividad inglés Cataluña resueltos
A fortnight ago I heard that the English master who taught me at school, the great Frank Miles, had died, aged 92. Although he was a teaching giant and recognised as such by former pupils and colleagues, there is just a brief mention of him on the Internet. That is exactly as he would have wanted it: modern communication methods were not for him. He only just tolerated the telephone; a telephone which rang at an inopportune moment, such as when he was marking essays or exam papers, could easily be thrown out of the window.
But when he was teaching, Frank made his inflexible views extremely plain. The classroom was his theatre. In physical presence he was quite slight. But to a boy of my age his reputation made him seem several times life-size. That reputation alone was enough to cause fear into the lazy and quell the uncontrollable. He didn’t have to do anything to keep order. Lessons would begin with what a friend has described as a “ferocious, almost neurotic intensity.” They could also be very funny, as long as the class was performing to the highest level.
Frank’s critical remarks were annihilating. After the first homework our class ever did for him, Frank judged the standard so poor throughout the entire class that he tore up every incorrect composition and threw it in the bin. All except one, and I blush to write that the piece saved was mine. It would have been much better for me if someone else’s homework had been picked.
He was highly intolerant of those who disagreed with him. By today’s standards he was deeply politically incorrect and had little time for rules and regulations. In fact, in the modern bureaucratic world he would be considered a problematic teacher.
Yet he was a truly inspirational teacher who held his class in focused attention. Because, above all, he had a complete passion not only for his subject but also for education. What was most important to him was his pupils’ intellectual understanding of English, and he was not afraid to reprimand them when they were failing to reach his high standards. Frank would have taught anyone who showed a spark of aptitude for his subject as he was determined to raise standards. He was particularly pleased when a boy who had previously had a low level could achieve spectacular results.
He was quite a peculiar man. His mannerisms and language lent themselves so well to imitation that the image of boys pretending to be Frank is sometimes more vivid than the memory of Frank himself.
In the restaurant, after the funeral service, we discussed the never-ending question: who was Frank? He once told me how lucky I was to come from a loving family. He had not got on with his father. Other than that, his childhood was to us a complete blank, as was his emotional life.
He lived for his pupils; if other relationships had once existed, nobody knew about them. Although he detested snobbery and money, he could be considered an elitist—but only in the sense that he expected the best from every boy he taught, whatever their background or potential.
I was lucky to come under the eyes of a classroom colossus. Sadly, Frank did not find relationships outside the classroom easy. He became a recluse in his last decade and died in a basic flat. And the tragedy is that I never told him how much he had influenced my life—and that of many others.
Text adapted from the Daily Mail (July 16, 2013)
The right to vote - PAU Cataluña 2014
>Exámenes selectividad inglés Cataluña resueltos
“Votes for women? What a ridiculous idea!” Some of the arguments that male voters used in the past to prevent women the right to vote would seem unacceptable to most of us nowadays. However, many people would be surprised to read that the women of Switzerland received the right to vote in 1971, and yet canton Appenzell Innerrhoden resisted until 1991. Most male and female residents in that part of the country saw the law preventing women’s suffrage as one of their cultural traditions, along with voting by assembly in the town square. Only after two women filed suit with the Swiss Federal Court was the canton forced to extend suffrage to its female residents.
Some argued that women were less intelligent than men, that their brains were smaller than men’s. Others feared women would go out to campaign without asking their husbands’ permission. The point was also raised for equality because, they said, “women’s natural modesty would stop them going out to vote when pregnant, and since rural women have more babies than those in towns, this would give an unfair advantage to the latter.” “And if women were actually elected, that would be a source of humiliation for their husbands!”
Such were the arguments that convinced Switzerland’s male population to turn down every proposal to allow women the vote. In New Zealand women had the right to vote since 1893 and in most European countries since the end of World War I. Even though both chambers of the Swiss parliament finally gave the green light to women’s suffrage in 1958, more than 50 years after Europe’s pioneer Finland, when proposed to the people, two thirds of the male citizens turned parliament’s recommendation down.
But it wasn’t as if Swiss women had stood idly waiting for their rights to be given to them. Emilie Kempin-Spyri (1853-1901), Switzerland’s first woman lawyer, had claimed that the article of the Federal Constitution which stated “All Swiss are equal before the law” meant that men and women had equal rights. However, this assertion was rejected by the Swiss Federal Court.
The first feminist association was established in 1868, calling for civil rights, and the right to attend university. There had been proposals to include women’s suffrage in the 1874 constitution. In 1929 a petition for voting rights managed to collect a quarter of a million signatures—but it was ignored.
Switzerland’s system of direct democracy, which gave voters the final say on legislation, ironically kept women out. However, the extensive autonomy of even the smallest administrative units gave them their chance to break in to political life. It was a tiny commune in Canton Valais that, in 1957, was the first to allow its women members to vote. Several cantons gradually followed and in the 1960s women started occupying more and more important positions in local parliaments and governments. In 1968 Geneva, then the country’s third largest city, had a woman mayor—but she still couldn’t vote in federal elections.
When the human rights convention of the Council of Europe was signed, Switzerland remained out of those parts that call for sexual equality. The protest this provoked forced the government to revise its position and a new referendum was put to the country.
The result: on February 7th 1971 Swiss males finally gave their female compatriots the full federal voting rights by a two thirds majority. The official results showed 621,403 of the all-male electorate supported the vote for women and 323,596 were against.
Text adapted from Swissworld.org
Why bilinguals are smarter - PAU Cataluña inglés 2014
>Exámenes selectividad inglés Cataluña resueltos
Speaking two languages has obvious practical benefits in an increasingly globalized world. But in recent years, scientists have begun to show that the advantages of bilingualism are even more fundamental than being able to converse with a wider range of people. Being bilingual, it turns out, makes you smarter. It can have a profound effect on your brain, improving cognitive skills not related to language and even protecting against dementia in old age.
This view of bilingualism is remarkably different from the one through much of the 20th century. Researchers and educators used to consider that a second language was an interference that hindered a child’s academic and intellectual development. They were not wrong: there is ample evidence that in a bilingual’s brain both language systems are active even when only one language is being used, therefore creating situations in which one system obstructs the other. But this interference, researchers are finding out, isn’t so much a handicap as an advantage. It forces the brain to resolve internal conflict, making the mind strengthen its cognitive muscles.
Bilinguals, for instance, seem to be better than monolinguals at solving certain kinds of mental puzzles. In a 2004 study by the psychologists Ellen Bialystok and Michelle Martin-Rhee, bilingual and monolingual preschoolers were asked to sort blue circles and red squares presented on a computer screen into two digital boxes—one marked with a blue square and the other marked with a red circle. In the first task, the children had to sort the shapes by colour, placing blue circles in the box marked with the blue square and red squares in the box marked with the red circle. Both groups did this with similar easiness. Next, the children were asked to sort by shape, which was more challenging because it required placing the images in a box marked with a different colour. The bilinguals were quicker at performing this task.
The evidence from such studies suggests that the bilingual experience improves the brain’s executive function—a command system that directs the processes that we use for planning, solving problems and doing other mentally demanding tasks. These processes include avoiding distractions, switching attention from one thing to another and holding information in mind—like remembering a sequence of directions while driving.
The main difference between bilinguals and monolinguals may be more basic: an increased ability to monitor the environment. “Bilinguals have to switch languages quite often—you may talk to your father in one language and to your mother in another,” says Albert Costa, a researcher at the Pompeu Fabra University in Spain. “This requires observing changes around you in the same way that we monitor our surroundings when driving.” In a study comparing German-Italian bilinguals with Italian monolinguals on monitoring tasks, Mr Costa found that the bilingual speakers did them better and needed less brain activity, indicating that they were more efficient.
The bilingual experience appears to influence the brain from infancy to old age. In a recent study of 44 elderly Spanish-English bilinguals, scientists directed by the neuropsychologist Tamar Gollan of the University of California, San Diego, found that individuals with a higher degree of bilingualism were more resistant than others to the onset of dementia and other symptoms of Alzheimer’s disease and developed them later.
Nobody ever doubted the power of language. But who could imagine that the words we hear and the sentences we speak might have such a big influence?
Text adapted from The New York Times (March 17, 2012)
Death sites: How to log in your afterlife - PAU inglés Cataluña 2012
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Lately a lot of websites (legacylocker.com, gonetoosoon.org, Deathswitch.com…) have sprung up offering to help users to solve a particular modern problem: what happens to your web presence when you die? In the past, a person’s legacy used to include a collection of letters and other personal papers; now it is more likely to include thousands of e-mails, tweets, blogs and online records.
The average internet user, with online banking facilities, Facebook and Twitter profiles, and internet based photos, blogs and e-mail accounts can now receive help in order to prepare “their posthumous online footprint”. The new sites promise to store safely data such as e-mail account passwords, online banking codes and “goodbye videos” to be sent only to nominated friends or relatives in the event of a death.
These websites require that customers either pay an annual fee or buy a “lifetime membership” to keep the information, which is stored in new online legacy depositories. After a death, the online archive is opened by beneficiaries exclusively. These websites have many ways of certifying the death of their users: The Deathswitch website sends out regular e-mails to check that users are still alive. If a series of messages receive no response, the site contracts qualified people (or experts) called “verifiers” that make sure that the missing person is dead, before making his/her stored information available.
Facebook website now offers a “memorial status” where deceased former users have their profiles free from features such as accepting new friend’s requests, and only previously accepted friends can see the profile. But it remains open to posts from mourning friends.
Neither Facebook nor e-mail providers such as Microsoft Hotmail and Google Gmail will give out the passwords of deceased former users. But Microsoft will provide authentic relatives with a CD of the late user’s e-mails; and Gmail allows close relatives access only to specific messages in a deceased person’s account. For that matter, relatives must provide copies of a death certificate, details of the content of the e-mails required and proof of legal right to access.
The American businessman Jeremy Toeman set up Legacy Locker, which is a website that promises to pass on “digital property” after death. Mr Toeman defines his website as a safe depository for vital digital property that allows access to online accounts for accepted friends and close relatives in the event of death. The idea occurred to him after his grandmother died. “I tried to get into her Hotmail account, as I wanted to contact people to let them know” said Mr Toeman. “But I couldn’t gain access”.
Responses to the new “death sites” are split. John Kay, 68, is a Facebook user but confesses that he wouldn’t sign up to a death service because he doesn’t keep anything confidential online. However, Stephen Marcus, 23, said: “I don’t mind people looking through my e-mails or Facebook when I die. And I’m seriously thinking about the idea of a posthumous video. It could be a nice gesture.”
In the end, all these sites are just trying to do us a pretty good favour, that is, they are likely to solve one of the most important mysteries in the history of humanity: how to be eternal.
Text adapted from The Times
Teen spirit: The secret life of Britain's teenage boys - PAU Cataluña 2010
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Nasif Mugisha lives in South London. He is full of life, seems kind, likes to run, and looks a little scary in his cadet’s uniform. Actually, Nas wants to join the Air Forces. He has wanted to be a pilot ever since he was four and first flew in a plane. At 15, he is already thinking ahead to a degree and career when all his friends talk of the pressure of exams. In the early evening, after Nas’s mum, Sophia, has made some delicious noodles, Nas and his friends go to the park.Adults move out of the way, often giving them hostile looks. The boys feel empowered, but also annoyed at the adults’ reaction.
At 7.30 am every Sunday, whether sunny or cold, Nas stacks his newspaper trolley with copies of the local paper. “It can be very depressing when the weather is bad, delivering all those papers through the wind and the rain. But at times it’s really good.” Two years ago when he started he was paid £20 for delivering the papers, now it’s just £10 or £15 on a good day. “They don’t call us newspaper boys any more,” says Nas, “we’re called walkers. I call myself a newspaper distribution expert.”
Nas’s mother was born in Uganda, his father in Rwanda. They divorced when he was three, and yet he considers himself fortunate—both parents remarried and now he’s got two great sets of families. “My mum confides in me. When I was a child, certain things happened and mum would say, ‘Ah, you’re too young to know.’ Now that I’m older, she tells me everything.” Nas talks more formally than most of his friends; he uses full sentences and only a little slang. “There are expectations of how a teenage boy will talk and act—especially a black teenage boy,” he says.
And he adds, “African parents want you to do well and they always push you to speak properly.”
Nas is more confident than he was at primary school. “It all changed when I joined the cadets.” He learned practical skills such as map-reading and ironing. “At school, the older you get, the more fixed groups become,” he says. Because he is so busy with extracurricular activities, Nas feels left out at times. “At school there is the cool group, and then lots of other groups. The cool kids are really the ones who never make progress at school. Many of them drink and take drugs. I’d say a third of them either smoke or drink.” Nas says he doesn’t drink or smoke at all.
Why doesn’t he? “First of all, I’m Muslim. But also, I don’t see the point. I think if you’re an interesting enough person you can be interesting at a party without alcohol.”
On Monday evening Nas goes to Air Cadets; he has to take two buses and then walk. He is pleased because his group finished third out of 15 in last week’s athletics competition. They put in so much time and effort that tonight, as a reward, they don’t have to wear their uniform. Nas will give a map-reading lesson to the junior cadets, some of whom are actually older than him, and they are all extremely disciplined. The group is racially mixed, and yet the kids appear to be colour blind, as they line up orderly to salute the picture of the Queen. Nas appears to be more mature and prepared for adult life than earlier generations of teenagers. In a strange way, maybe society’s demonisation of teen boys has made them grow up more quickly.
Text adapted from The Guardian
How China is winning the school race - PAU Cataluña inglés 2013
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China’s education performance—at least in cities such as Shanghai and Hong Kong—is as spectacular as the country’s rapid economic expansion, surpassing many more advanced countries. But what is behind this success?
Surprise came when the results of the OECD’s international maths, science and reading tests —the 2009 PISA tests—were published. Shanghai, taking part for the first time, came top in all three subjects. Meanwhile, Hong Kong, which did well in the last decade, has gone from good to great. In this global ranking, it came fourth in reading, second in maths and third in science. These two Chinese cities outstripped leading education systems around the world. The results for Beijing are not quite as spectacular. “But they are still high,” says Andreas Schleicher, the OECD’s head of education statistics.
Cheng Kai-Ming, Professor of Education at Hong Kong University, attributes the results to “a devotion to education not shared by other cultures.” More than 80 % of Shanghai’s older secondary students attend after-school tutoring. They may spend another three to four hours each day on homework under close parental supervision. Such dedication also reflects the ferociously competitive university entrance examinations. Prof. Cheng says Chinese parents are definitely devoted to their children’s education.
Certainly these two open and dynamic cities regard as valuable to adopt the best educational practices from around the world to ensure success. Under the slogan “First class city, first class education”, Shanghai re-equipped classrooms, upgraded schools and revised the curriculum in the last decade. Teachers were trained in more interactive methodology and computers were brought in. The city’s schools are now a model for the country. About 80 % of Shanghai school leavers go to university compared to an average of 24 % in China.
Last year Shanghai claimed to be the first Chinese city to provide free schooling for all migrant children. Shanghai controls who lives and works in the city, allowing only the best and the brightest students to become residents with access to jobs and schools. “For over 50 years Shanghai has been accumulating talent, the cream of the cream in China. That gives it an incredible advantage,” says Ruth Heyhoe, former head of the Chinese Institute of Education.
Meanwhile, Hong Kong was forced into educational improvements when its industries moved to cheaper Chinese areas in the 1990s. To continue being a service centre for China, the city had to upgrade knowledge and skills. In the last decade Hong Kong has concentrated on raising the level for all students, and today Hong Kong’s education system is rated among the best in the world. “If we want to have high achievement, we need experts in secondary schools,” said Catherine Chan, secretary for education in the Hong Kong government. Teachers are selected from the top 30 % of the university graduates. By contrast, according to the OECD, the US selects from the bottom third. In Hong Kong, over one-fifth of government money is spent on education every year.
Both Hong Kong and Shanghai are changing their educational models and no-one knows how this will result in terms of quality. However, they believe they are moving in the right direction. Their societies are changing rapidly and for both cities, reaching the top might be easier than staying there.
Text adapted from BBC News
Familien - PAU Cataluña 2013
Urgroßmutter Emma heiratete schon mit 17 Jahren, bekam mit 18 ihr erstes Kind und hatte mit 32 schon sieben Kinder. „Haushalt und Kinder, das war ganz allein meine Aufgabe. Mein Mann hat sich darum nie gekümmert. Aber trotzdem war er der Herr im Haus“, sagt sie.
„Mein Vater war sehr streng, wir Kinder haben ihn mehr gefürchtet als geliebt“, sagt ihre Tochter Magdalene. Auch sie heiratete ziemlich früh und hatte fünf Kinder.
Elisabeth ist ihr zweites Kind: „Ich habe nur gute Erinnerungen an meine Kindheit. Meine Eltern waren zwar oft streng, aber es gab nie Schläge oder Ohrfeigen.“ Sie machte das Abitur und wurde Fremdsprachensekretärin. Heute, zwei Jahre nach der Scheidung von ihrem Mann, arbeitet sie wieder. Aber es ist nicht leicht für sie, allein und unabhängig zu leben. Ihre Tochter Sabine kann das nur schwer verstehen. Sie hat einen Sohn, Kevin. „Kevins Vater und ich leben zusammen, aber wir wollen nicht heiraten. Ich verdiene mein eigenes Geld und wir teilen uns die Arbeit im Haushalt.
Wir sind auch eine Familie, aber eben etwas anders als früher!“ Und Kevin? Er findet es gut, dass er so viele Omas hat!
Sabines Freundin Corinna hat eine sehr originelle Familie. Corinna dachte, dass eine Scheidung nicht das Ende ihrer Familie sein durfte. Jetzt lebt sie mit ihrer Großfamilie, und das ist eine ganz besondere Familie: zu ihr gehören ihre beiden Ex-Männer und die neue Freundin von Corinnas erstem Mann, die Kinder von Corinnas zwei ersten Ehen sowie auch ihr dritter Mann und die zwei Kinder, die sie mit ihm hat. „Warum soll ich den Kindern die Väter nehmen, die ich doch mal geliebt habe?“ fragt die dreißigjährige Schauspielerin Corinna. Wenn sie zum Filmen muss, kümmern sich die Väter um die Kinder.
Aber es gibt auch viele Menschen, die auf eine Familie verzichten. Die Zahlen zeigen, dass immer mehr Menschen allein leben. Im Jahre 1900 waren es sieben Prozent, heute sind es fünfmal so viele. Das sind zum größten Teil alte Menschen und Singles. Aber auch viele berufstätigen jungen Menschen wollen nicht mehr als Kinder bei den Eltern wohnen.
Die Stadt Freiburg und die Straßenmusik
Ist die Stadt Freiburg das Mekka der Straβenmusikanten? Im Frühling sah es so aus. Aber jetzt im Winter ist die Situation etwas ruhiger.
Im Frühling sah man an allen Ecken und Enden der Stadt Musikanten: Späthippies, 12-Mann-Big-Bands aus dem peruanischen Hochgebirge und klassisch ausgebildete Konservatoriumsstudenten teilten sich die Straβen und Gassen der Altstadt.
Das Brot der Straβenmusikanten ist meistens hart verdient. Während des Nachmittags und Abends singt ein Trio aus Ecuador nacheinander in allen Cafés der Fußgängerzone. Sie fangen auf dem Münsterplatz an und singen dann in allen anderen Cafés. Die drei Musiker aus Ecuador sind drei Brüder, sie waren in Amsterdam und sind dann über Deutschland in die Schweiz gefahren. Jetzt sind sie wieder in Deutschland, in Freiburg, und hoffen, andere Ecuatorianer zu treffen und eine grössere Band machen zu können. Mit dieser Band möchten sie weiterreisen.
Das verdiente Geld reicht gerade aus, um zu leben, sagen sie. Aber nicht mehr.
Doch nicht alle Musikanten kommen von so weit her: ein junger Mann aus Bern spielt Violine am Bahnhof. Er sagt, dass er versucht hat, in der Fuβgängerzone zu spielen, es aber nicht funktioniert hat. Warum? Sein Instrument ist zu leise: eine Violine hört man nicht, wenn viele Menschen herumlaufen und wenn auch andere Musiker spielen. Er hat nur wenige Münzen bekommen, deshalb versucht er es jetzt am Bahnhof, wo auch viele Menschen aber keine anderen Musiker sind. „Ich glaube, es ist das erste und letzte Mal, dass ich das probiere“, sagt er ein wenig frustriert.
Die Freiburger finden, dass es zu viele Straβenmusikanten gibt. Deshalb hat die Stadt jetzt die Straβenmusik streng reglementiert.
Wie ist die Straβenmusik reglementiert?
Musik und auch alle anderen künstlerischen Aktivitäten auf der Straβe müssen von der Polizei autorisiert werden, die Autorisierung kostet nichts.
Die Musiker dürfen unter der Woche von 11 bis 12.30 und von 16.30 bis 21 Uhr auf den Straβen spielen, am Samstag von 9 bis 21 Uhr und am Sonntag von 11 bis 20 Uhr. Straβenmusik ist nur in der
Fuβgängerzone erlaubt, und die Fuβgängerzone ist in vier Sektoren aufgeteilt. Die Künstler dürfen nicht länger als eine halbe Stunde in einer Zone sein, dann müssen sie in eine andere Zone gehen.
Am selben Tag darf in einer Zone nur einmal musiziert werden. Lautsprecher sind verboten und die Füβgänger dürfen nicht behindert werden. Straβenmusiker haben wirklich ein hartes Leben.
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