dimanche 14 avril 2013


Young fellows,
here is your job while I'll be away
I'd like you to work on two documents.






lundi 11 février 2013

Suite Spaces and Exchanges

Correction du travail précédent:

Language:
Il faut différencier Had + pp (le past perfect ou le pluperfect) et V-ed (preterit). Le preterit pose une action passée qui est un peu un repère. Les actions au had + pp sont posées comme antérieures à celle-ci.

La nominalisation: fait de transformer un verbe afin de pouvoir l'utiliser en position soit sujet, soit complément (c'est à dire à la position d'un GN)
V-ing / Génitif + V-ing ou pronom + V-ing
To + V

To + V va bien après want ou intend car TO indique un but ou une intention. Cela va donc bien avec l'idée d'une volonté ou d'une planification. C'est du 'à faire'.

Avec V-ing, l'action est envisagée comme réalisée. C'est pour cela qu'avec des verbes de goût ou de dégoût V-ing est plus logique. En effet, pour détester qqch ou en avoir marre, il faut que l'action soit réalisée.

Suite du Chapitre



Listen to these two documents and present what you understood in French.
Then, explain what their common theme is and what they both aim at showing.

Send this by mail. Thanks

A correction will appear here when I have received your works.

Until that, I give you a text to read. I will post some questions for you to answer 




Multiculturalism in its controversial glory: Is Canada a ‘country without a core culture’?

Joe O'Connor | Oct 24, 2012 9:31 PM ET | Last Updated: Oct 24, 2012 9:32 PM ET
 Dean Bicknell/Postmedia News

 Just name it, and we have it here, in Canada, the land of 200 languages — including the two official ones. No matter where people are originally from, nearly 90% of us primarily speak English or French at home.


Canada is a multicultural country. We know that. We are taught it in school and, for Canadians, especially those living in big cities, we see and hear it around us everyday; written on restaurant signs, advertising delectable ethnic cuisine, and on crowded subway cars and buses where chatter abounds in a multiplicity of tongues.
English. French. Chinese. Russian. Spanish. Tagalog. Creole. Just name it, and we have it here, in Canada, the land of 200 languages — including the two official ones. No matter where people are originally from, nearly 90% of us primarily speak English or French at home. It is a robust number, and yet, beneath it, is a head-scratcher of a figure: more than two million speak neither English or French at home, while some 6.6 million people, more than the number of people in greater Toronto, most often speak something other than French or English at home.
Salim Mansur is a political scientist at the University of Western Ontario. He has been described, including in the pages of this newspaper, as Canada’s “angriest moderate.” And what makes him so angry is that nobody, he says, not the media elite, politicians or even the academics, is willing to have a frank and open dialogue about multiculturalism in this country.
“Numerous languages spoken inside a country is only a problem, and a lethal problem, when the core identity of that country comes to be increasingly disputed — as is happening in Canada,” Professor Mansur, an Indo-Canadian Muslim originally from Calcutta wrote in an email. “A multicultural country, and officially so designated, has basically indicated it is a country without a core culture, or the core culture that once gave it cohesion, identity, framework, anchor, has been jettisoned to embrace a multiplicity of identities — and thereby the unintended consequence is that there is a void in the centre.”
He argues that Canada, before it became beholden to a Kumbayah notion that everybody should get along and be free to do so in whatever language they choose to speak was, at its core, a liberal democracy. Previous generations of immigrants — Irish, Italians and Greeks, Germans, Russians and Poles, to list a few — who arrived before multiculturalism became enshrined as federal policy in October, 1971, were forced, not by fiat, but out of necessity, to embrace English and/or French because speaking the official languages was key to being a part of the greater Canadian tribe.
“Whatever their particularities immigrants put them aside, because there was a core identity with Canada, and the United States, and it was clearly a liberal democracy,” the professor says. “But we trashed our core value system.”
Or else we simply expanded the definition. Language retention rates of immigrant populations offer a telling story, and, in some ways, tell a similar story to Professor Mansur’s. Italian, Portuguese, Greek, Polish, German — older stock immigrant groups — fully retain their mother tongues at rates far below newer arrivals to Canada.
For example, only 39% of Italians, a group that came to Canada in two great waves at the beginning of the twentieth century and again after the Second World War, are fully fluent in Italian, whereas Punjabi-speaking Indians have an 81.4% language retention rate. That may change for subsequent generations, or it may not.
Professor Mansur claims that we aren’t on our way to becoming “Balkanized” as a nation, but that we are already there. Maybe, in some sad instances, he is right. The other day I sat through a murder trial of an Afghan immigrant, a man allegedly unable and unwilling to adjust to life in Canada and to accept that his wife was accepting of Western ways. So he killed her. It is brutal story.
But there are others to tell.
Parminder Singh is 31-years-old, an immigrant, a Sikh, a medical student and, back when there actually was hockey to watch, a play-by-play man for Hockey Night in Canada’s Punjabi-language broadcasts. Lanky, and with a big beard, Mr. Singh was raised in a multi-generational home where English was effectively his first language but Punjabi was the ‘official’ language, a language he needed to master, by necessity, if he wanted to speak to his grandparents.
Mr. Singh’s father drove a truck. His mother worked in a bottling factory. On Saturdays the three generations gathered around the television to watch hockey.
“I would translate the games for them,” Mr. Singh told me in an interview a while back. “It was the one thing we all enjoyed — me in English — and them as a sport.”
We had this discussion at a Tim Horton’s in Brampton, where other men in turbans sat drinking coffee, presumably sharing the news of the day, chattering away in their native tongue. Mr. Singh and I chattered away in English.
It was a snapshot of multiculturalism, in all its glory. It didn’t feel like a failure to me, as Mr. Mansur suggests.
National Post
• Email: joconnor@nationalpost.com | Twitter: oconnorwrites

dimanche 3 février 2013

Absence de lundi 4 à mardi 5

Sunday, February 3rd 2013.

So, here is the text you had to read:

Sunny Spells with only patchy cloud
Updated 1:47pm 6 August 2011:
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Jaci Stephen: I've left Facebook

Jaci Stephen
The unthinkable has happened. On Sunday night, I uttered[1] the three little words I had never thought I would. They had been coming for a while, but it was having the courage to say them and mean them that had so far proven the final obstacle. Then, suddenly, there they were, spilling out of my mouth like a baby’s dribble: I’ve left Facebook.
It’s something I had tried to do in the past but had lasted no more than 30 minutes. Without Facebook, my life fell apart[2]. People whose business cards I once would have taken (how quaint[3] that social nicety now seemed) had communicated only with the phrase “I’ll Facebook you”; I quickly realised that extricating myself from the social networking site meant they would be out of my life forever.
Then there was my family, for whom, when I was on my travels, Facebook was a comforting record of what I was doing on a daily basis. They were distraught[4] the instant I left.
More to the point: so was I. Often 6000 miles away in Los Angeles, I relied on Facebook to keep me up to date with friends and family; it created the sense of emotional closeness in the absence of physical closeness and instilled in me the feeling that I was next door, as opposed to the other side of the Atlantic.
But my relationship with Facebook and some of its members had been going wrong for some time. I resented[5] “friends” adding me to groups I had not asked to join (Facebook’s new policy means that anyone on your list can add you without your permission). I was not happy having photos posted – again, without my permission and often in situations that compromised my privacy. I was especially not happy about the increasingly snide[6] and nasty comments people made about things they knew nothing about.
The last reason is the one that made me finally say: Enough’s enough.
When I saw the news about Amy Winehouse’s death at the weekend, I felt nothing but sorrow[7]: sorrow for a young life, in the grip of addiction, so tragically lost; sorrow for her grieving parents, brother and friends; sorrow that the music world had lost a genius who had already, in her short life, contributed more than so many others manage to[8] do in a lifetime three times as long.
Then the torrent of abuse poured forth on Facebook: judgmental, nasty, heartless comments, totally devoid of compassion. It was disgusting and made me ashamed that I was enabling these people to have a platform for their abuse on my Facebook page. I would not tolerate them in my local pub, so why would I invite them into my home to spout their vile tirades?
I could not, would not, read any more; it was too distressing[9]. So, since that incident, I have left Facebook and, despite friends’ attempts to lure me back, I intend to stay off it for the foreseeable[10] future.
Amy’s music lives on, as will her memory. With one click of the mouse, the comments of her detractors will not.
Adapted from: http://www.walesonline.co.uk/news/columnists/2011/07/29/jaci-stephen-i-ve-left-facebook-91466-29141612/



[1] Utter : say
[2] Fall apart : fall into pieces
[3] Quaint : old-fashioned (antonym : modern)
[4] Distraught : distressed / out of my mind
[5] Resent : have hard feelings towards
[6] Snide : mean / sarcastic / unpleasant
[7] Sorrow : sadness
[8] Manage to + V : succeed in + V-ing
[9] Distressing : upsetting, worrying, painful
[10] Foresee : predict, forecast, anticipate, announce