Questões de Inglês - Discurso direto e indireto | Reported speech para Concurso
Foram encontradas 48 questões
Ano: 2019
Banca:
CONSULPAM
Órgão:
Prefeitura de Viana - ES
Prova:
CONSULPAM - 2019 - Prefeitura de Viana - ES - Professor de Educação Básica - Língua Inglesa |
Q1139132
Inglês
Texto associado
“Once a week, we had a family time called “Book
club”. My mom would stop everything she was doing
to go to my bedroom and read a book. Sometimes she
liked to pretend she was actually inside the book and
started making some funny voices, to best suit each
character. Once I started get sleepy, she always
kissed me in my forehead and said “I love you so
much. You are the light of my life.” before she went
to her bed. This is by far the best memory I have from
my childhood.”
The sentence “I love you, baby girl. You are the light
of my life” can be correctly reported as:
Ano: 2019
Banca:
CONSULPAM
Órgão:
Prefeitura de Viana - ES
Prova:
CONSULPAM - 2019 - Prefeitura de Viana - ES - Professor de Educação Básica - Língua Inglesa |
Q1139130
Inglês
Texto associado
“She was always reclaiming that nobody recognized
her skills. She never admitted any deception but we
all knew our coordinator had a comprehensive list of
sources and several reasons not to promote her. I
pretend not to be aware and I’m very adept to make
myself invisible when I need to.”
Choose the option in which the underlined word is
wrongly classified:
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 |
Q1118371
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).
Mark the correct form for the reported speech of the
sentence found in the text: “Well, as a matter of fact, I am
English,” he admitted.
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 |
Q1118370
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).
When I wrote, that summer, and asked my friend Louise if she would come with me on a car trip to Provence, [...]
To reproduce the dialogue shown in the sentence above, found in the beginning of the text, we will have:
Q1023876
Inglês
Texto associado
Text I
CLT or a task-based approach is not a panacea to language teaching. There are numerous challenges to making communicative language teaching happen. These issues have to do with the choice of content, context, specific skill areas (e.g., vocabulary, grammar, etc.), and particular learning tasks that determine a curriculum.
These choices are tightly linked to questions about what it means to ―know‖ a language, to be proficient in a language, and what communicative abilities entail. While the literature on language teaching has attempted to provide answers to such questions, there are no universally accepted standards. The proficiency and standards movements have attempted to provide some guidelines, but they often remain broad in learner performance descriptions. This ultimately makes assessment of individual learners‘ communicative ability challenging, and it essentially leaves judgment of learner progress up to the teachers.
Communicative abilities cannot be simply categorized as speaking, listening, reading, or writing skills, as it was done in a traditional four skills approach. For example, when two people talk to each other, the process normally involves speaking and listening skills as well as active communicative strategies such as asking for clarification and adjusting language to make each other understood. The endeavor to teach languages in a way that encompasses all skills, based on an interactive view of language behavior, has posed many challenges on how to go about integrating the four skills effectively in a daily and long-term curriculum.
The teaching of proficiency and communicative-based skills raises the question not only about content but also about the choice of learning tasks or best teaching practices. CLT does not promote one standardized method or curriculum, but is eclectic in its approach. Being eclectic means it promotes the best or most effective techniques or methodologies. At the same time, the choice of techniques and learning tasks is not an arbitrary decision, but is firmly grounded in principles of learning as they are motivated by research in second language acquisition (SLA) and educational psychology. Learning what constitutes effective ways of learning and teaching initially requires intensive training and in the long run staying in touch with current SLA research findings.
As a last point, the quality of CLT also often depends on the quality of teaching materials. Unfortunately, only in the most commonly taught languages—such as English, Spanish, French, and German—does an abundance of materials exist to support the development of communicative language abilities over a wide range of skills.
(Source: <http://www.pearsonhighered.com/samplechapter/0131579061.pdf>
The sentence "These choices are tightly linked to questions about what it means to 'know' a language"
(L.5) contains an indirect question. The direct form of this question is:
Conheça nossos planos