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Teaching with mental health challenges

Sewell, A. (2024, December 9). Supporting teachers with anxiety and depression. Edutopia. https://www.edutopia.org/article/teachermental-health-challenges/

Brazil floods: 'I saw people trapped in their

Read the text and the quote below to answer question

Obama’s Speech- 2008

For when we have faced down impossible odds, when we've been told we're not ready or that we shouldn't try or that we can't, generations of Americans have responded with a simple creed that sums up the spirit of a people: Yes, we can. Yes, we can. Yes, we can. 

It was a creed written into the founding documents that declared the destiny of a nation: Yes, we can.

It was whispered by slaves and abolitionists as they blazed a trail towards freedom through the darkest of nights: Yes, we can.

It was sung by immigrants as they struck out from distant shores and pioneers who pushed westward against an unforgiving wilderness: Yes, we can.

It was the call of workers who organized, women who reached for the ballot, a president who chose the moon as our new frontier, and a king who took us to the mountaintop and pointed the way to the promised land: Yes, we can, to justice and equality.

Yes, we can, to opportunity and prosperity. Yes, we can heal this nation. Yes, we can repair this world. Yes, we can.

https://www.vpro.nl/zomergasten/artikelen/new-hampshire-primary-2008. Acesso em 04 fev.2026.

“Meanings are not in words; they are in people, situated in social contexts.”

KRAMSCH, Claire. Language and Culture. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1998

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At around 6:30 p.m., I decide I’m not going to sleep at the hospital tonight. I need to shower and eat real food. I call my best friend, Yara, and tell her I’m on my way to her house. Everything in Gaza is within walking distance, but I’m absolutely exhausted. I realize with dread that, if I’m not mistaken, I’ve left my wallet in mama’s bag, and I don’t have any money at all. So I do something embarrassing, and ask a taxi driver if he can drive me to Yara’s for free. He agrees on one condition: ‘When I get killed’, he says, ‘post a nice picture of me online, and ask people to pray for me.’

Everyone in Gaza knows that they’ll eventually die, and that it’s only a matter of time. I smile at the taxi driver and assent.

ALAQAD, Plestia. The Eyes of Gaza: A Diary of Resilience. New York: Little, Brown and Company, 2025.

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The notion of Multiliteracies supplements traditional literacy pedagogy by addressing these two related aspects of textual multiplicity. What we might term ‘mere literacy’ remains centred on language only, and usually on a singular national form of language at that, being conceived as a stable system based on rules such as mastering sound-letter correspondence. This is based on the assumption that we can actually discern and describe correct usage. Such a view of language must characteristically translate into a more or less authoritarian kind of pedagogy. A pedagogy of Multi-literacies, by contrast, focuses on modes of representation much broader than language alone. These differ according to culture and context, and have specific cognitive, cultural, and social effects. In some cultural contexts – in an Aboriginal community or in a multimedia environment, for instance – the visual mode of representation may be much more powerful and closely related to language than ‘mere literacy’ would ever be able to allow. Multiliteracies also creates a different kind of pedagogy: one in which language and other modes of meaning are dynamic representational resources, constantly being remade by their users as they work to achieve their various cultural purposes. 

COPE, Bill; KALANTZIS, Mary (org.). Multiliteracies: literacy learning and the design of social futures. Londres: Routledge, 2000.

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I believe that on the first night I went to Gatsby’s house I was one of the few guests who had actually been invited. People were not invited – they went there. They got into automobiles which bore them out to Long Island, and somehow they ended up at Gatsby’s door. Once there they were introduced by somebody who knew Gatsby, and after that they conducted themselves according to the rules of behavior associated with amusement parks. Sometimes they came and went without having met Gatsby at all, came for the party with a simplicity of heart that was its own ticket of admission.

I had been actually invited. A chauffeur in a uniform of robin’s-egg blue crossed my lawn early that Saturday morning with a surprisingly formal note from his employer: the honor would be entirely Gatsby’s, it said, if I would attend his “little party” that night. He had seen me several times, and had intended to call on me long before, but a peculiar combination of circumstances had prevented it – signed Jay Gatsby, in a majestic hand. 

Dressed up in white flannels I went over to his lawn a little after seven, and wandered around rather ill at ease among swirls and eddies of people I didn’t know – though here and there was a face I had noticed on the commuting train. I was immediately struck by the number of young Englishmen dotted about; all well dressed, all looking a little hungry, and all talking in low, earnest voices to solid and prosperous Americans. I was sure that they were selling something: bonds or insurance or automobiles. They were at least agonizingly aware of the easy money in the vicinity and convinced that it was theirs for a few words in the right key. 

FITZGERALD, F. S. The Great Gatsby. Charles Scribner's Sons, 1925. p. 41-42