Unit-11-What-time-do-you-go-to-school精选教学优质PPT课件.ppt（无音视频）

1、 Unit 11What time do you go to school? (Section A)1. Learning the words: go to school /get up / run / eat breakfast / take a shower2. Listening practice3. Language Goals: Talk about routines ; Ask about times A: What time do you usually get up, Rick? B: I usually get up at five oclock .Look at the p

2、ictures and learn the new wordsruneat breakfasttake a showergo to schoolUnit 11Section AWhat time do you go to school ?Match the words and the pictures.1. go to school _2. get up _3. run _4. eat breakfast _5. take a shower_1aadbec1bListen and match the times and actions. Draw lines from the clocks t

3、o the pictures. get up, Rick? run?- What time do you usually take a shower? have breakfast? go to school? get up at 5:00a.m. run at - I usually take a shower at have breakfast at go to school at 1cPairworkOne student is Rick. The other is the interviewer. Ask and answer questions about Ricks day.6:0

4、07:008:009:00 get up? run?-What time does Rick take a shower? have breakfast? go to school? gets up at 5 :00. runs at -He takes a shower at has breakfast at goes to school at 6:007:008:009:00What time does Wang Hai usually ? Listen to the dialogue: Davids daily routineActivity Time gets up6:00a.m.ha

5、s breakfast7:00a.m.7:30a.m.gets to school11:30a.m.goes home4:30p.m.gets homehas dinner10:00p.m.goes to school8:00a.m.has lunch5:00p.m.7:00p.m.goes to bed2aListen to the conversation. Complete Listen to the conversation. Complete these sentences with words from the these sentences with words from the

6、 box.box. two one two Rick has _ brothers (1)and _ sisters. Ricks (2)Family has _ (3)Shower.twotwoone2bListen again and complete this shower schedule for Ricks family. TimeNameBobMaryJerryAlicia5:005:006:006:007:007:008:008:00 Time(yourself)Activities Time (your partner)get up have breakfast go to s

7、chool have lunch do homework take a shower have dinner go to bed6:006:20Look at the chart below. Write a short passage about your day. 7:0012:0016:3017:4018:0022:00Reader, I married him. A quiet wedding we had: he and I, thmore or less Constance Chatterleys position. The war had brought the roof dow

8、n over her head. And she had realized that one must live and learn.She married Clifford Chatterley in 1917, when he was home for a month on leave. They had a months honeymoon6. Then he went back to Flanders: to be shipped over to England again six months later, more or less in bits. Constance, his w

9、ife, was then twenty-three years old, and he was twenty-nine.His hold on life was marvellous. He didnt die, and the bits seemed to grow together again. For two years he remained in the doctors hands. Then he was pronounced a cure, and could return to life again, with the lower half of his body, from

10、 the hips7 down, paralysed for ever.This was in 1920. They returned, Clifford and Constance, to his home, Wragby Hall, the family seat. His father had died, Clifford was now a baronet, Sir Clifford, and Constance was Lady Chatterley. They came to start housekeeping and married life in the rather for

11、lorn home of the Chatterleys on a rather inadequate9 income. Clifford had a sister, but she had departed. Otherwise there were no near relatives. The elder brother was dead in the war. Crippled for ever, knowing he could never have any children, Clifford came home to the smoky Midlands to keep the C

12、hatterley name alive while he could.He was not really downcast. He could wheel himself about in a wheeled chair, and he had a bath-chair with a small motor attachment10, so he could drive himself slowly round the garden and into the line melancholy11 park, of which he was really so proud, though he

13、pretended to be flippant about it.Having suffered so much, the capacity for suffering had to some extent left him. He remained strange and bright and cheerful, almost, one might say, chirpy, with his ruddy, healthy-looking face, arid12 his pale-blue, challenging bright eyes. His shoulders were broad

14、 and strong, his hands were very strong. He was expensively dressed, and wore handsome neckties from Bond Street. Yet still in his face one saw the watchful13 look, the slight vacancy14 of a cripple.He had so very nearly lost his life, that what remained was wonderfully precious to him. It was obvio

15、us in the anxious brightness of his eyes, how proud he was, after the great shock, of being alive. But he had been so much hurt that something inside him had perished, some of his feelings had gone. There was a blank of insentience.Constance, his wife, was a ruddy, country-looking girl with soft bro

16、wn hair and sturdy body, and slow movements, full of unusual energy. She had big, wondering eyes, and a soft mild voice, and seemed just to have come from her native village. It was not so at all. Her father was the once well-known R. A., old Sir Malcolm Reid. Her mother had been one of the cultivat

17、ed Fabians in the palmy, rather pre-Raphaelite days. Between artists and cultured socialists16, Constance and her sister Hilda had had what might be called an aesthetically17 unconventional upbringing. They had been taken to Paris and Florence and Rome to breathe in art, and they had been taken also

18、 in the other direction, to the Hague and Berlin, to great Socialist15 conventions, where the speakers spoke18 in every civilized19 tongue, and no one was abashed20.The two girls, therefore, were from an early age not the least daunted21 by either art or ideal politics. It was their natural atmosphe

19、re. They were at once cosmopolitan22 and provincial23, with the cosmopolitan provincialism of art that goes with pure social ideals.They had been sent to Dresden at the age of fifteen, for music among other things. And they had had a good time there. They lived freely among the students, they argued

20、 with the men over philosophical24, sociological and artistic25 matters, they were just as good as the men themselves: only better, since they were women. And they tramped off to the forests with sturdy youths bearing guitars, twang-twang! They sang the Wandervogel songs, and they were free. Free! T

21、hat was the great word. Out in the open world, out in the forests of the morning, with lusty and splendid-throated young fellows, free to do as they liked, and-above all-to say what they liked. It was the talk that mattered supremely26: the impassioned interchange of talk. Love was only a minor27 ac

22、companiment.Both Hilda and Constance had had their tentative love-affairs by the time they were eighteen. The young men with whom they talked so passionately28 and sang so lustily and camped under the trees in such freedom wanted, of course, the love connexion. The girls were doubtful, but then the

23、thing was so much talked about, it was supposed to be so important. And the men were so humble29 and craving30. Why couldnt a girl be queenly, and give the gift of herself?So they had given the gift of themselves, each to the youth with whom she had the most subtle and intimate arguments. The argume

24、nts, the discussions were the great thing: the love-making and connexion were only a sort of primitive31 reversion and a bit of an anti-climax. One was less in love with the boy afterwards, and a little inclined to hate him, as if he had trespassed32 on ones privacy and inner freedom. For, of course

25、, being a girl, ones whole dignity and meaning in life consisted in the achievement of an absolute, a perfect, a pure and noble freedom. What else did a girls life mean? To shake off the old and sordid33 connexions and subjections.And however one might sentimentalize it, this sex business was one of

26、 the most ancient, sordid connexions and subjections. Poets who glorified34 it were mostly men. Women had always known there was something better, something higher. And now they knew it more definitely than ever. The beautiful pure freedom of a woman was infinitely35 more wonderful than any sexual l

27、ove. The only unfortunate thing was that men lagged so far behind women in the matter. They insisted on the sex thing like dogs.And a woman had to yield. A man was like a child with his appetites. A woman had to yield him what he wanted, or like a child he would probably turn nasty and flounce away

28、and spoil what was a very pleasant connexion. But a woman could yield to a man without yielding her inner, free self. That the poets and talkers about sex did not seem to have taken sufficiently36 into account. A woman could take a man without really giving herself away. Certainly she could take him

29、 without giving herself into his power. Rather she could use this sex thing to have power over him. For she only had to hold herself back in sexual intercourse37, and let him finish and expend38 himself without herself coming to the crisis: and then she coulde parson and clerk, were alone present. W

30、hen we got back from church, I went into the kitchen of the manor-house, where Mary was cooking the dinner and John cleaning the knives, and I said -Mary, I have been married to Mr. Rochester this morning. The housekeeper2 and her husband were both of that decent phlegmatic3 order of people, to whom

31、 one may at any time safely communicate a remarkable4 piece of news without incurring5 the danger of having ones ears pierced by some shrill6 ejaculation, and subsequently stunned7 by a torrent8 of wordy wonderment. Mary did look up, and she did stare at me: the ladle with which she was basting9 a p

32、air of chickens roasting at the fire, did for some three minutes hang suspended in air; and for the same space of time Johns knives also had rest from the polishing process: but Mary, bending again over the roast, said only -Have you, Miss? Well, for sure!A short time after she pursued-I seed you go

33、 out with the master, but I didnt know you were gone to church to be wed1; and she basted10 away. John, when I turned to him, was grinning from ear to ear.I telled Mary how it would be, he said: I knew what Mr. Edward (John was an old servant, and had known his master when he was the cadet of the ho

34、use, therefore, he often gave him his Christian11 name)-I knew what Mr. Edward would do; and I was certain he would not wait long neither: and hes done right, for aught I know. I wish you joy, Miss! and he politely pulled his forelock.Thank you, John. Mr. Rochester told me to give you and Mary this.

35、 I put into his hand a five-pound note. Without waiting to hear more, I left the kitchen. In passing the door of that sanctum some time after, I caught the words -Shell happen do better for him nor ony ot grand ladies. And again, If she bent one o th handsomest, shes noan faal and varry good-natured

36、; and i his een shes fair beautiful, onybody may see that.I wrote to Moor12 House and to Cambridge immediately, to say what I had done: fully13 explaining also why I had thus acted. Diana and Mary approved the step unreservedly. Diana announced that she would just give me time to get over the honeym

37、oon14, and then she would come and see me.She had better not wait till then, Jane, said Mr. Rochester, when I read her letter to him; if she does, she will be too late, for our honeymoon will shine our life long: its beams will only fade over your grave or mine.How St. John received the news, I dont

38、 know: he never answered the letter in which I communicated it: yet six months after he wrote to me, without, however, mentioning Mr. Rochesters name or alluding15 to my marriage. His letter was then calm, and, though very serious, kind. He has maintained a regular, though not frequent, corresponden

39、ce ever since: he hopes I am happy, and trusts I am not of those who live without God in the world, and only mind earthly things.You have not quite forgotten little Adele, have you, reader? I had not; I soon asked and obtained leave of Mr. Rochester, to go and see her at the school where he had plac

40、ed her. Her frantic16 joy at beholding17 me again moved me much. She looked pale and thin: she said she was not happy. I found the rules of the establishment were too strict, its course of study too severe for a child of her age: I took her home with me. I meant to become her governess once more, bu

41、t I soon found this impracticable; my time and cares were now required by another-my husband needed them all. So I sought out a school conducted on a more indulgent system, and near enough to permit of my visiting her often, and bringing her home sometimes. I took care she should never want for anyt

42、hing that could contribute to her comfort: she soon settled in her new abode18, became very happy there, and made fair progress in her studies. As she grew up, a sound English education corrected in a great measure her French defects; and when she left school, I found in her a pleasing and obliging

43、companion: docile19, good-tempered, and well-principled. By her grateful attention to me and mine, she has long since well repaid any little kindness I ever had it in my power to offer her.My tale draws to its close: one word respecting my experience of married life, and one brief glance at the fort

44、unes of those whose names have most frequently recurred20 in this narrative21, and I have done.I have now been married ten years. I know what it is to live entirely22 for and with what I love best on earth. I hold myself supremely23 blest-blest beyond what language can express; because I am my husba

45、nds life as fully is he is mine. No woman was ever nearer to her mate than I am: ever more absolutely bone of his bone and flesh of his flesh. I know no weariness of my Edwards society: he knows none of mine, any more than we each do of the pulsation24 of the heart that beats in our separate bosoms2

46、5; consequently, we are ever together. To be together is for us to be at once as free as in solitude26, as gay as in company. We talk, I believe, all day long: to talk to each other is but a more animated27 and an audible thinking. All my confidence is bestowed28 on him, all his confidence is devote

47、d29 to me; we are precisely30 suited in character-perfect concord31 is the result.Mr. Rochester continued blind the first two years of our union; perhaps it was that circumstance that drew us so very near-that knit us so very close: for I was then his vision, as I am still his right hand. Literally3

48、2, I was (what he often called me) the apple of his eye. He saw nature-he saw books through me; and never did I weary of gazing for his behalf, and of putting into words the effect of field, tree, town, river, cloud, sunbeam-of the landscape before us; of the weather round us-and impressing by sound

49、 on his ear what light could no longer stamp on his eye. Never did I weary of reading to him; never did I weary of conducting him where he wished to go: of doing for him what he wished to be done. And there was a pleasure in my services, most full, most exquisite33, even though sad- -because he clai

50、med these services without painful shame or damping humiliation34. He loved me so truly, that he knew no reluctance35 in profiting by my attendance: he felt I loved him so fondly, that to yield that attendance was to indulge my sweetest wishes.One morning at the end of the two years, as I was writin