Ready to travel without taking a plane? Read this summer!

Summer is a good time to take a break from just reading  to learn and start reading in English for fun.  Here is a list of some suggestions of some books that may be worth reading on your time off.

Julian Stout

Lower intermediate

Charlotte's Web- E B White

The story of a pig named Wilbur and his friendship with a spider named Charlotte. 

Animal Farm- George Orwell

Animals rebel against their farmer in the hope of creating a more equal society.

Intermediate

The Fantastic Mr Fox- Roald Dahl

Mr. and Mrs Fox and their family outwit the horrible farmers. 

The Curious Incident of the Dog in the NIght Time- Mark Haddon

An autistic protagonist investigates what happened to his dog.

The Old Man and the Sea- Ernest Hemingway

The struggle between an aging fisherman and the biggest catch of his life.

Upper Intermediate- Advanced

Of Mice and Men- John Steinbeck 

The story of two displayed ranch workers looking for work during the Great Depression

The Catcher in the Rye- J.D. Salinger

A coming-of-age story that discusses angst, alienation, and the superficiality of society.

The Great Gatsby- F Scott Fitzgerald

A story about wealth, excess and obsession

Bonus:

The Little Prince- Antoine de Saint-Exupéry

This book is fun to read, but slo translated from French  into many different difficulties of English,so you can probably find a translation that meets your comfort level!

Read More

The Secret Life of Walter Mitty (Part III)

 And today we can find out about the end of the short story. Ready?

Julian Stout

They’re so damn cocky, thought Walter Mitty, walking along Main Street; they think they know everything. Once he had tried to take his chains off, outside New Milford, and he had got them wound around the axles. A man had had to come out in a wrecking car and unwind them, a young, grinning garageman. Since then Mrs. Mitty always made him drive to a garage to have the chains taken off. The next time, he thought, I’ll wear my right arm in a sling; they won’t grin at me then. I’ll have my right arm in a sling and they’ll see I couldn’t possibly take the chains off myself. He kicked at the slush on the sidewalk. “Overshoes,” he said to himself, and he began looking for a shoe store.

When he came out into the street again, with the overshoes in a box under his arm, Walter Mitty began to wonder what the other thing was his wife had told him to get. She had told him, twice, before they set out from their house for Waterbury. In a way he hated these weekly trips to town—he was always getting something wrong. Kleenex, he thought, Squibb’s, razor blades? No. Toothpaste, toothbrush, bicarbonate, carborundum, initiative and referendum? He gave it up. But she would remember it. “Where’s the what’s-its-name?” she would ask. “Don’t tell me you forgot the what’s-its-name.” A newsboy went by shouting something about the Waterbury trial.

. . . “Perhaps this will refresh your memory.” The District Attorney suddenly thrust a heavy automatic at the quiet figure on the witness stand. “Have you ever seen this before?” Walter Mitty took the gun and examined it expertly. “This is my Webley-Vickers 50.80,” he said calmly. An excited buzz ran around the courtroom. The Judge rapped for order. “You are a crack shot with any sort of firearms, I believe?” said the District Attorney, insinuatingly. “Objection!” shouted Mitty’s attorney. “We have shown that the defendant could not have fired the shot. We have shown that he wore his right arm in a sling on the night of the fourteenth of July.” Walter Mitty raised his hand briefly and the bickering attorneys were stilled. “With any known make of gun,” he said evenly, “I could have killed Gregory Fitzhurst at three hundred meters with my left hand.” Pandemonium broke loose in the courtroom. A woman’s scream rose above the bedlam and suddenly a lovely, dark-haired girl was in Walter Mitty’s arms. The District Attorney struck at her savagely. Without rising from his chair, Mitty let the man have it on the point of the chin. “You miserable cur!” . . .

“Puppy biscuit,” said Walter Mitty. He stopped walking and the buildings of Waterbury rose up out of the misty courtroom and surrounded him again. A woman who was passing laughed. “He said ‘Puppy biscuit,’ ” she said to her companion. “That man said ‘Puppy biscuit’ to himself.” Walter Mitty hurried on. He went into an A. & P., not the first one he came to but a smaller one farther up the street. “I want some biscuit for small, young dogs,” he said to the clerk. “Any special brand, sir?” The greatest pistol shot in the world thought a moment. “It says ‘Puppies Bark for It’ on the box,” said Walter Mitty.

His wife would be through at the hairdresser’s in fifteen minutes, Mitty saw in looking at his watch, unless they had trouble drying it; sometimes they had trouble drying it. She didn’t like to get to the hotel first; she would want him to be there waiting for her as usual. He found a big leather chair in the lobby, facing a window, and he put the overshoes and the puppy biscuit on the floor beside it. He picked up an old copy of Liberty and sank down into the chair. “Can Germany Conquer the World Through the Air?” Walter Mitty looked at the pictures of bombing planes and of ruined streets.

. . . “The cannonading has got the wind up in young Raleigh, sir,” said the sergeant. Captain Mitty looked up at him through touselled hair. “Get him to bed,” he said wearily. “With the others. I’ll fly alone.” “But you can’t, sir,” said the sergeant anxiously. “It takes two men to handle that bomber and the Archies are pounding hell out of the air. Von Richtman’s circus is between here and Saulier.” “Somebody’s got to get that ammunition dump,” said Mitty. “I’m going over. Spot of brandy?” He poured a drink for the sergeant and one for himself. War thundered and whined around the dugout and battered at the door. There was a rending of wood and splinters flew through the room. “A bit of a near thing,” said Captain Mitty carelessly. “The box barrage is closing in,” said the sergeant. “We only live once, Sergeant,” said Mitty, with his faint, fleeting smile. “Or do we?” He poured another brandy and tossed it off. “I never see a man could hold his brandy like you, sir,” said the sergeant. “Begging your pardon, sir.” Captain Mitty stood up and strapped on his huge Webley-Vickers automatic. “It’s forty kilometres through hell, sir,” said the sergeant. Mitty finished one last brandy. “After all,” he said softly, “what isn’t?” The pounding of the cannon increased; there was the rat-tat-tatting of machine guns, and from somewhere came the menacing pocketa-pocketa-pocketa of the new flame-throwers. Walter Mitty walked to the door of the dugout humming “Auprès de Ma Blonde.” He turned and waved to the sergeant. “Cheerio!” he said. . . .

Something struck his shoulder. “I’ve been looking all over this hotel for you,” said Mrs. Mitty. “Why do you have to hide in this old chair? How did you expect me to find you?” “Things close in,” said Walter Mitty vaguely. “What?” Mrs. Mitty said. “Did you get the what’s-its-name? The puppy biscuit? What’s in that box?” “Overshoes,” said Mitty. “Couldn’t you have put them on in the store?” “I was thinking,” said Walter Mitty. “Does it ever occur to you that I am sometimes thinking?” She looked at him. “I’m going to take your temperature when I get you home,” she said.

They went out through the revolving doors that made a faintly derisive whistling sound when you pushed them. It was two blocks to the parking lot. At the drugstore on the corner she said, “Wait here for me. I forgot something. I won’t be a minute.” She was more than a minute. Walter Mitty lighted a cigarette. It began to rain, rain with sleet in it. He stood up against the wall of the drugstore, smoking. . . . He put his shoulders back and his heels together. “To hell with the handkerchief,” said Walter Mitty scornfully. He took one last drag on his cigarette and snapped it away. Then, with that faint, fleeting smile playing about his lips, he faced the firing squad; erect and motionless, proud and disdainful, Walter Mitty the Undefeated, inscrutable to the last.

Questions:

List the details which connect Walter's fantasies and his reality together. Talk about the significance of these details.

Consider stereotypes of masculinity in society today. How are these stereotypes enacted in Walter Mitty's dreams? How do these stereotypes differ from his everyday behavior?

Read More

Our students recommend

Ready to practise your English? Take a look at what our students recommend to do...

Read More

Resources to prepare B2 FIRST and beyond

Are you planning to take the B2 FIRST or beyond soon? Here we are posting some materials from Cambridge to help you practising...

1. Take a look at these resources: (click on the picture to access the full document)

2. Watch this webinar for more tips:

BON COURAGE!!

Read More

The Secret Life of Walter Mitty (Part II)

We keep reading the story with our assistant Julian Stout. Here is Part II:

Walters day continues and he slips into another adventurous daydream:

. . . “It’s the millionaire banker, Wellington McMillan,” said the pretty nurse. “Yes?” said Walter Mitty, removing his gloves slowly. “Who has the case?” “Dr. Renshaw and Dr. Benbow, but there are two specialists here, Dr. Remington from New York and Dr. Pritchard-Mitford from London. He flew over.” A door opened down a long, cool corridor and Dr. Renshaw came out. He looked distraught and haggard. “Hello, Mitty,” he said. “We’re having the devil’s own time with McMillan, the millionaire banker and close personal friend of Roosevelt. Obstreosis of the ductal tract. Tertiary. Wish you’d take a look at him.” “Glad to,” said Mitty.

In the operating room there were whispered introductions: “Dr. Remington, Dr. Mitty. Dr. Pritchard-Mitford, Dr. Mitty.” “I’ve read your book on streptothricosis,” said Pritchard-Mitford, shaking hands. “A brilliant performance, sir.” “Thank you,” said Walter Mitty. “Didn’t know you were in the States, Mitty,” grumbled Remington. “Coals to Newcastle, bringing Mitford and me up here for a tertiary.” “You are very kind,” said Mitty. A huge, complicated machine, connected to the operating table, with many tubes and wires, began at this moment to go pocketa-pocketa-pocketa. “The new anaesthetizer is giving way!” shouted an interne. “There is no one in the East who knows how to fix it!” “Quiet, man!” said Mitty, in a low, cool voice. He sprang to the machine, which was now going pocketa-pocketa-queep-pocketa-queep. He began fingering delicately a row of glistening dials. “Give me a fountain pen!” he snapped. Someone handed him a fountain pen. He pulled a faulty piston out of the machine and inserted the pen in its place. “That will hold for ten minutes,” he said. “Get on with the operation.” A nurse hurried over and whispered to Renshaw, and Mitty saw the man turn pale. “Coreopsis has set in,” said Renshaw nervously. “If you would take over, Mitty?” Mitty looked at him and at the craven figure of Benbow, who drank, and at the grave, uncertain faces of the two great specialists. “If you wish,” he said. They slipped a white gown on him; he adjusted a mask and drew on thin gloves; nurses handed him shining . . .

“Back it up, Mac! Look out for that Buick!” Walter Mitty jammed on the brakes. “Wrong lane, Mac,” said the parking-lot attendant, looking at Mitty closely. “Gee. Yeh,” muttered Mitty. He began cautiously to back out of the lane marked “Exit Only.” “Leave her sit there,” said the attendant. “I’ll put her away.” Mitty got out of the car. “Hey, better leave the key.” “Oh,” said Mitty, handing the man the ignition key. The attendant vaulted into the car, backed it up with insolent skill, and put it where it belonged.

Discussion Questions:

So far in the story, what do you think the significance of the title is? What is so "secret" about Walter Mitty's life?

Do you think there are a lot of people in the world who have real lives like Walter Mitty, and imagine alternative lives like he does?

Read More

EUROPEAN UNION DAY 2021

This upcoming Sunday, May 9th is the European Union Day. Because of this we are challenging you to do one of these tests to see how much you know about the European Union.

In this day and age, it is important to know what we are part of, because it obviously affects our present, has marked our past and is going to affect our future.

Here you have links to the four tests available in the European Union website:

1. What is the European Union?

2. How does the European Union work?

3. How is the European Union relevant to your daily life?

4. What’s on the European Union agenda?

Good luck!

Read More

The Secret Life of Walter Mitty (Part I)

In our English Corner we will be presenting examples of short stories to introduce students to literature in English beyond the abridged and shortened excerpts we are used to in our English classes and textbooks. We will bring you different readings to choose from based on your level and comfort. Read whichever you like, or feel like you would most enjoy.  Feel free to challenge yourself as well, and participate in the discussion questions! Check back for the next reading soon.

Julian Stout (Language Assistant)

Our first story is part one of "The Secret Life of Walter Mitty," a classic American short story about a man with a very ordinary life who escapes into daydreams where he feels more important and heroic. 

The Secret Life of Walter Mitty (1939) is a short story by James Thurber. The most famous of Thurber's stories, it first appeared in The New Yorker on March 18, 1939. The story begins in the middle of one of Walter Mitty’s daydreams. Everything that Mitty sees and hears in his ordinary, boring life causes him to daydream about himself in glamorous, exciting situations.

The name Walter Mitty a has entered the English language, meaning a person who spends more time in heroic daydreams than paying attention to the real world.

“We’re going through!” The Commander’s voice was like thin ice breaking. He wore his full-dress uniform, with the heavily braided white cap pulled down rakishly over one cold gray eye. “We can’t make it, sir. It’s spoiling for a hurricane, if you ask me.” “I’m not asking you, Lieutenant Berg,” said the Commander. “Throw on the power lights! Rev her up to 8,500! We’re going through!” The pounding of the cylinders increased: ta-pocketa-pocketa-pocketa-pocketa-pocketa. The Commander stared at the ice forming on the pilot window. He walked over and twisted a row of complicated dials. “Switch on No. 8 auxiliary!” he shouted. “Switch on No. 8 auxiliary!” repeated Lieutenant Berg. “Full strength in No. 3 turret!” shouted the Commander. “Full strength in No. 3 turret!” The crew, bending to their various tasks in the huge, hurtling eight-engined Navy hydroplane, looked at each other and grinned. “The Old Man’ll get us through,” they said to one another. “The Old Man ain’t afraid of Hell!” . . .

“Not so fast! You’re driving too fast!” said Mrs. Mitty. “What are you driving so fast for?”

“Hmm?” said Walter Mitty. He looked at his wife, in the seat beside him, with shocked astonishment. She seemed grossly unfamiliar, like a strange woman who had yelled at him in a crowd. “You were up to fifty-five,” she said. “You know I don’t like to go more than forty. You were up to fifty-five.” Walter Mitty drove on toward Waterbury in silence, the roaring of the SN202 through the worst storm in twenty years of Navy flying fading in the remote, intimate airways of his mind. “You’re tensed up again,” said Mrs. Mitty. “It’s one of your days. I wish you’d let Dr. Renshaw look you over.”

Walter Mitty stopped the car in front of the building where his wife went to have her hair done. “Remember to get those overshoes while I’m having my hair done,” she said. “I don’t need overshoes,” said Mitty. She put her mirror back into her bag. “We’ve been all through that,” she said, getting out of the car. “You’re not a young man any longer.” He raced the engine a little. “Why don’t you wear your gloves? Have you lost your gloves?” Walter Mitty reached in a pocket and brought out the gloves. He put them on, but after she had turned and gone into the building and he had driven on to a red light, he took them off again. “Pick it up, brother!” snapped a cop as the light changed, and Mitty hastily pulled on his gloves and lurched ahead. He drove around the streets aimlessly for a time, and then he drove past the hospital on his way to the parking lot.

Questions:  

What is a daydream?  Do you daydream? If so, how do you imagine yourself?

How is Walter Mitty in reality different from Walter Mitty in his fantasies? 

How does the author describe sounds in the story?

Read More

ERASMUS 2021-2022

In case you don't know, we are right in the middle of a global pandemic, and eventhough we are starting to see the light with the vaccine, this school year was a great risk to send some of our students on an Erasmus experience.

However, we are not giving up and are already planning to start the selection process for the upcoming school year! 

2021-2022, are you ready for us?

Read More

Cambridge Exams 2021

In the Escuela Profesional Javeriana, we think certifying your English level will help you in your career. Cambridge Exams are one of the best options, since they are recognised internationally.

If you are interested in taking a Cambridge Exam and would like to learn about it, join one of our information meetings on-line next week. Interested friends or relatives are also welcome.

 

           Wednesday 3 February 

                      11:15            

                      15:15

If you are interested in assisting, fill in this form and we will send you the meeting link:

https://forms.gle/szQD5GCsjPNNzDug7

 Cambridge Information:

Test your English level if you are not sure about it.

Take a real test to check your performance. Are you ready?

 

Read More

Who's ready for a great year?

 

We are!!

Are you?

We invite you to think about the things you can improve in your life, and set up reachable goals for the New Year. 

Do you need some ideas? Watch this video and remember #YourCommitmentStartsNow

Read More