At what age do children go to school in Britain?

 Children in Britain must attend school from the age of 5 (in Northern Ireland) until they are 16. Before the start of formal schooling, many children attend nursery schools or nursery classes attached to primary schools. In addition, some parents elect to send their children to private (fee-paying) nursery schools or kindergartens. In England and Wales, many primary schools also operate an early admission policy where they admit children under 5 into what are called reception classes.

 Children first attend the infants' school or department. At 7 they move to the junior school and the usual age for transfer from junior to secondary school is 11 (12 in Scotland). In some areas, however, 'first' schools take pupils aged 5 to 8, 9 or 10, and pupils within the 8 to 14 age range go to 'middle' schools.

What are the different types of secondary school?

 Over 85 per cent of secondary school pupils go to comprehensive schools. These take children of all abilities, and provide a wide range of secondary education for all or most of the children in a district from the age of 11 to 16 or 16.

 There are also other types of secondary school. Grammar schools offer a mainly academic education for the 11 to 18-year age group. Children enter grammar schools on the basis of their abilities, first sitting the ‘11’ plus or entrance examination. Grammar schools cater for four per cent of children in secondary education.

 A small minority of children attend secondary modern schools (around four per cent). These schools provide a more general and technical education for children aged 11-16.

 City Technology Colleges (CTCs) aim to give boys and girls a broad secondary education with a strong technological and business slant. They are non-fee-paying independent schools, set up by the Government with the help of business sponsors who finance a large proportion of the initial capital costs and develop links with the schools. There are now 15 such colleges, in operation in England and Wales.

 Specialist schools, which only operate in England, give pupils a broad secondary education with a strong emphasis on technology, languages, arts or sports. There are over 250 specialist schools. They charge no fees and any secondary school can apply for specialist school status.

Why are ‘public’ schools so called?

 The independent school sector is separate from the state educational system, and caters for some seven per cent of all schoolchildren in England and four per cent in Scotland.

 Parents of pupils attending independent schools pay for their education, and in some cases fees can amount to several thousand pounds a year. Some pupils gain scholarships and their expenses are covered by the schools.

 About 250 of the larger independent schools are known for historical reasons as public schools. Eton, which was founded in 1440, is said to have been the first grammar school to be called a ‘public school’ because scholars could come to it from any part of England and not, as was generally the case, just from the immediate neighbourhood.

 Originally, many public schools stressed a classical education, character training and sports, but the curriculum is now closely allied to state education.

 In Northern Ireland there are a few independent fee paying schools catering for a very small proportion of the school population; they do not receive any support from public funds.

 Schools in Scotland supported by public funds are also called 'public schools' but they are not fee-paying, independent schools.

BBC News, November, 2015.

UNIT III

Anita Brookner (born 16 July 1928) is a British award-winning novelist and art historian. She was Slade Professor of Fine Art at the University of Cambridge from 1967 to 1968 and was the first woman to hold this visiting professorship. She was awarded the 1984 Man Booker Prize for her novel “Hotel du Lac.”

Brookner was born in Herne Hill, a suburb of London. Brookner has not married, but took care of her parents as they aged.

In 1967 she became the first woman to hold the Slade Professorship of Fine Art at Cambridge University. She was promoted to Reader at the Courtauld Institute of Art in 1977, where she worked until her retirement in 1988.

Brookner published her first novel, “A Start in Life” in 1981, at the age of 53. Since then she has published a novel approximately every year. In USA the book is published as The Debut.

A Start in Life

The protagonist is Dr. Ruth Weiss, a 40-year-old professor of French literature. Scenes from her current life bracket the rest of the novel, which is the story of her youth and her struggle to escape her family. Her mother, a beautiful and famous actress, slowly deteriorates.

Ruth's father owned a small bookstore, which never made much money, and when he sold it he continued to go there and eventually got engaged in a sort of platonic affair with the new owner. The woman's nephew, who helps out at the bookstore, is another self-engaged character with little patience for other people and their wants or needs. Ruth doesn't like him but she is thrown into his company as he and his aunt visit Ruth's ageing father. Eventually he asked her to marry him. In this he showed sense. It is best to marry for purely selfish reasons.

Complicating and aggravating the problems at home, Ruth's parents hire a housekeeper who controls everyone in the household. She does little housework and their apartment slowly deteriorates into dusty disarray. Her father also is focused only on himself and he too drains the energy from Ruth, blighting her chances for independence, calling her home from Paris just as she seems about to make a satisfying life for herself.

Ruth visits France to study Balzac, following the paths of his characters around Paris and she makes a trip to three towns in which he has set his novels. She is particularly interested in Balzac's Eugenie Grandet. Ruth identifies with Eugenie, another character who became entangled by her demanding family and was unable to move away. Ruth sees her own similarity to Balzac's heroine.

Ruth at College

The main advantage of being at college was that she could work in the library until nine o’clock. She was now able to feed and clothe herself. She had, for the moment, no worries about money. In her own eyes she was rich, and it was known, how, she did not understand, that she was not on a grant, did not share a flat with five others, did not live in a hall of residence, and took abundant baths, hot water being the one element of life at home.

There was also the extreme pleasure of working in a real library, with access to the stacks. The greed for books was still with her, although sharing them with others was not as pleasant as taking them to the table and reading through her meals. But in the library she came as close to a sense of belonging as she was ever likely to encounter.

 She was never happier than when taking notes, rather elaborate notes in different coloured ball- point pens, for the need to be doing something while reading, or with reading, was beginning to assert itself. Her essays, which she approached as many women approach a meeting with a potential lover, were well received. She was heartbroken when one came back with the words “I cannot read your writing” on the bottom.

She bought herself a couple of pleated skirts, like those worn by Miss Parker; she bought cardigans and saddle shoes and thus found a style to which she would adhere for the rest of her life.

The days were not long enough. Ruth rose early, went out for a newspaper and some rolls, made coffee, and washed up, all before anybody was stirring. She was the neatest person in the house. As she opened the front door to leave, she could hear the others greeting the day from their beds with a variety of complaining noises, and escaped quickly before their blurred faces and slippered feet could spoil her morning. She was at one with the commuters at the bus stop. There would be lectures until lunch time, tutorials in the afternoon. In the Common Room there was an electric kettle and she took to supplying the milk and sugar. It was more of a home than home had been for a very long time. There was always someone to talk to after the seminar, and she would take a walk in the evening streets before sitting down for her meal in a sandwich bar at about six thirty. Then there was work in the library until nine, and she would reach home at about ten.

“But don’t you ever go out?” asked her friend Anthea. For she was surprised to find that she made friends easily. Needing a foil or acolyte for her flirtatious popularity, she had found her way to Ruth unerringly; Ruth, needing the social protection of a glamorous friend, was grateful. Both were satisfied with the friendship although each was secretly bored by the other. Anthea’s conversation consisted either of triumphant reminiscences – how she had spurned this one, accepted that one, how she had got the last pair of boots in Harrod’s sale, how she had shed five pounds in a fortnight – or recommendations beginning “Why don’t you?” Why don’t you get rid of those ghastly skirts and buy yourself some trousers? You’re thin enough to wear them. Why don’t you have your hair properly cut? Why don’t you find a flat of your own? You can’t stay at home all your life.

These questions would be followed rapidly by variants beginning “Why haven’t you?” Found a flat, had your hair cut, bought some trousers. It was as if her exigent temperament required immediate results. Her insistent yet curiously uneasy physical presence inspired conflicting feelings in Ruth, who was not used to the idea that friends do not always please.

By the end of the second year restlessness came over Ruth, impelling her to spend most of the day walking. The work seemed to her too easy and she had already chosen the subject for her dissertation: “Vice and Virtue in Balzac’s Novels.” Balzac teaches the supreme effectiveness of bad behavior, a matter which Ruth was beginning to perceive. The evenings in the library now oppressed her; she longed to break the silence. She seemed to have been eating the same food, tracing the same steps for far too long. And she was lonely. Anthea, formally engaged to Brian, no longer needed her company.

Ruth took some of Anthea’s advice, had her hair cut, won a scholarship from the British Council which entitled her to a year in France working on her thesis, and fell in love. Only the last fact mattered to her, although she would anxiously examine her hair to see if it made her look any better. Had she but known it, her looks were beside the point; she was attractive enough for a clever woman, but it was principally as a clever woman that she was attractive. She remained in ignorance of this; for she believed herself to be dim and unworldly and had frequently been warned by Anthea to be on her guard. “Sometimes I wonder if you’re all there,” said Anthea, striking her own brow in disbelief.

She did this when Ruth confessed that she was in love with Richard Hirst, who had stopped her in the corridor to congratulate her on winning the scholarship and had insisted on taking her down to the refectory for lunch. Anthea,s  gesture was prompted by the fact that Richard was a prize beyond the expectations of most women and certainly beyond those of Ruth. He was one of those exceptionally beautiful men whose violent presence makes other men, however superior, look makeshift. Richard was famous on at least three counts. He had the unblemished blond good looks of his Scandinavian mother; he was a resolute Christian; and he had an ulcer. Women who had no success with him assumed that the ulcer was a result of the Christianity, for Richard, a psychologist by training, was a student counselor, and would devote three days a week to answering the telephone and persuading anxious undergraduates.

Then Richard would wing home to his parish and stay up for two whole nights answering the telephone to teenage dropouts, battered wives, and alcoholics. There seemed to be no end to the amount of bad news he could absorb.

Richard had been known to race off on his bicycle to the scene of a domestic drama and there wrestle with the conscience of an abusive husband, wife, mother, father, brother, sister.

He was rarely at home. He rarely slept. He never seemed to eat. His ulcer was the concern of every woman he had ever met in his adult life. His dark golden hair streamed and his dark blue eyes were clear and obdurate as he pedaled off to the next crisis.

Into Ruth’s dazed and grateful ear he spoke deprecatingly of his unmarried mothers and his battered wives. She thought him exemplary and regretted having no good works to report back. The race for virtue, which she had always read about, was on.

So, Ruth took more of Anthea’s advice and found a flat for herself. Brookner, Anita, The Debut,(A Start In Life) Vintage, 1990.

Notes.

Harrods sale – an upmarket department store located in the center of London. The Harrods motto is “All Things for All People”.

Honore de Balzac (1799-1850) – a French novelist and playwright.

British Council - the UK’s international organisation for cultural relations and educational opportunities.

Ø TRANSLATION TIPS

A). Translate comparative constructions.

1. I wish him good night, and walked out of the shop, the richer by that sum, and the poorer by a waistcoat.2.    I could not argue with that. She knew the position as well as I did, and the House of Commons much better.3. She felt herself in the presence of a very genuine grief, the more real for its absence of outward sign. 4. In a rich, very audible voice Mrs. Ape led the singing. Soon they were all at it, singing like blazes, and it was undoubtedly true they felt the better for it. 5. He seemed to be very fond of my mother – I am afraid I

B). Translate concessive constructions.

C). Translate sentences into Russian, paying attention to the word BEYOND.

1. It's been explored to a depth of 292 meters and beyond that nobody knows anything. 2. And just beyond it you can see features that have vanished, things that have disappeared. 3. Can you move beyond my veil and see me for who I truly am inside? 4. Now we can fast forward many thousands of years into the Bronze Age and beyond. 5. By this stage the project had taken on a viral dimension of its own, which got completely beyond us. 6. And he begins to move beyond his self-concern into the broader concern for others. 7. And beyond this, they have the moral skill to

JMEDIA LOG

Why Do I Like School

Many adults like to say that school years were the best years in their lives. But I suspect that most of them have just forgotten the details, and kept only pleasant recollection in their minds. As for me, I study at school now, and I can see many aspects of school life from inside. And I want to express my point of view on the problems, which most pupils have to face sooner or later. Maybe you’ll be surprised, but schoolchildren’s life often turns out to be not much easier and even harder than their parents’ life.

.The first problem in my personal rating is absence of freedom of choice. What does it mean? For example, if an adult person doesn’t want to work as a teacher, he can try hand in something else. If he doesn’t like working in this particular company, nobody will make him to. Yes, sometimes adult people have to do boring and unpleasant work, but, firstly, it’s their own choice, and, secondly, they get money for this. As for pupils at school, they cannot choose what subjects to study. They cannot choose teachers as well. They just have to do what everyone does. And that is not fair. For instance, I know for sure that I will never need Geometry in my life. I am going to be an interpreter or a tour guide, and dedicate my life to travelling and communicating with people. I don’t consider myself to be stupid, but I really can’t cope with all these figures, theorems and integrals – I just have no gift for Mathematics. And I don’t understand why on earth I should waste time and efforts on this useless stuff! It is commonly believed that schoolchildren are too small to choose, because they don’t know what subjects they will need in future. Yes, I agree that they are too small in primary school, but we, tenth-graders are old enough to make a choice. However, I will have to pass a Unified State Exam on Math, which is a compulsory subject, and it’s more than likely that I will spoil my school-leaving certificate with a bad mark.

The second big problem for me is a constant lack of time due to excessive homework. Every teacher thinks that his subject is the most important one, and tries to give us a full load of homework. On the average, I need an hour to do the lessons on one subject. And we have at least five or six lessons a day. Just imagine: after school I have to learn by heart two poems on Literature, do several sums on Math, fill a chart on Biology, get prepared for a test on English, and learn several pages on History. All in all, it takes me about five hours. So, I study six hours at school and five hours at home, having, as a result, an eleven-hour working day. Do you know many adults, who are involved in intellectual activity for eleven hours a day? I think, no. Most adults, when they come home from their work, either have a rest, or just change the type of activity. And we have to study all day long, from morning till night. Don’t think that I am lazy, but I think that secondary school pupils today are really overloaded. It’s no surprise that many of them have poor health, suffer from obesity, scoliosis and weak sight.

The third problem for me is an attitude of some teachers to their pupils. For example, my English teacher is really great. Apart from being a born teacher, she is very gentle, polite and intelligent. She respects every pupil regardless of his academic progress and achievements. And we respect her too. Unfortunately, there are other teachers, who can be very rude towards us. For example, our teacher of Biology can easily humiliate a pupil who is not ready for the lesson. Once I said something wrong, and she turned me into ridicule publicly, driving me to tears. After that I even didn’t want to go to school. However, we cannot choose teachers.

Of course, school life consists not only of problems. There are many positive moments: friends, favourite teachers, school holidays and vacations, sports events and games, and so on. Maybe when I grow up, I’ll forget all negative things, and will recall my school years with a sense of nostalgia, like my parents. Who knows?

The Guardian, Tuesday 26 July 2016 00.01 BST

UNIT IV

Erich Wolf Segal (June 16, 1937 – January 17, 2010) was an American author, screenwriter, and educator. He was best known for writing the novel “Love Story” (1970), a best-seller, and writing the motion picture of the same name, which was a major hit. In 1967, from the story by Lee Minoff, he wrote the screenplay for “ The Beatles” 1968 motion picture,” Yellow Submarine”. Segal went on to write more novels and screenplays, including the 1977 sequel to “Love Story”, called “Oliver's Story”. His novel “The Class” (1985), a saga based on the Harvard Class of 1958, was also a bestseller, and won literary honour in France and Italy.

LOVE STORY.

The plot of the novel revolves around the lives of two young college lads, whose love for each other was immortal. Oliver Barrett, heir to the Barrett fortune and legacy and Jennifer Cavilleri, daughter of a poor baker who does not own a huge bank account but has lots of love. Oliver was expected to follow in his father's huge footsteps, while Jennifer, music major, was to go on and study in Paris. But when they meet, the sparks flow, and we get involved with them as their love grows deep and strong. Oliver turns his back on his family and fortune to marry Jenny. Jenny gives up her dreams of Paris and being a musician. They are happy with each other in their lives and the stable flow of income that is enough to sustain them. But life can be cruel and Jenny is diagnosed with leukemia. With just a few days to live, the novel speaks about the emotional pain they both go through. The novel portrays that love has no language but feelings. “Love Story” moves the compassion of love.

Chapter 1.

Stupid and rich, clever and poor.

What can you say about a twenty-five-year-old girl who died?
That she was beautiful. And brilliant. That she loved Mozart and Bach. And the Beatles. And me. Once, when she specifically jumped me with those musical types, I asked her what the order was, and she replied, smiling, 'Alphabetical.' At the time I smiled too. But now I sit and wonder whether she was listing me by my first name — in which case I would trail Mozart — or by my last name, in which case I would edge in there between Bach and the Beatles. Either way I don't come first, which for some stupid reason bothers hell out of me, having grown up with the notion that I always had to be number one. Family heritage, don't you know?

In the fall of my senior year, I got into the habit of studying at the Radcliffe library. Not just to eye the cheese, although I admit that I liked to look. The place was quiet, nobody knew me, and the reserve books were less in demand. The day before one of my history exams, I still hadn't gotten around to reading the first book on the list, an endemic Harvard disease. I ambled over to the reserve desk to get one of the tomes that would bail me out on the morrow. There were two girls working there. One a tall tennis-anyone type, the other a bespectacled mouse type. I opted for Minnie Four-Eyes.

'Do you have The Waning of the Middle Ages?'

She shot a glance up at me.

'Do you have your own library?' she asked.

'Listen, Harvard is allowed to use the Radcliffe library.'

'I'm not talking legality, Preppie, I'm talking ethics. You guys have five million books. We have a few lousy thousand.'

Christ, a superior-being type! The kind who thinks since the ratio of Radcliffe to Harvard is five to one, the girls must be five times as smart. I normally cut these types to ribbons, but just then I badly needed that goddamn book.

'Listen, I need that goddamn book.'

'Would you please watch your profanity, Preppie?'

'What makes you so sure I went to prep school?'

'You look stupid and rich,' she said, removing her glasses.

'You're wrong,' I protested. 'I'm actually smart and poor.'

'Oh, no, Preppie. I'm smart and poor.'

She was staring straight at me. Her eyes were brown. Okay, maybe I look rich, but I wouldn't let some 'Cliffie — even one with pretty eyes — call me dumb.

'What the hell makes you so smart?' I asked.

'I wouldn't go for coffee with you,' she answered.

'Listen — I wouldn't ask you.'

'That,' she replied, 'is what makes you stupid.'

Let me explain why I took her for coffee. By shrewdly capitulating at the crucial moment — i.e., by pretending that I suddenly wanted to — I got my book. And since she couldn't leave until the library closed, I had plenty of time to absorb some pithy phrases about the shift of royal dependence from cleric to lawyer in the late eleventh century. I got an A minus on the exam, coincidentally the same grade I assigned to Jenny's legs when she first walked from behind that desk. I can't say I gave her costume an honor grade, however; it was a bit too Boho for my taste. I especially loathed that Indian thing she carried for a handbag. Fortunately I didn't mention this, as I later discovered it was of her own design.

We went to the Midget Restaurant, a nearby sandwich joint which, despite its name, is not restricted to people of small stature. I ordered two coffees and a brownie with ice cream (for her).

'I'm Jennifer Cavilleri,' she said, 'an American of Italian descent.'
As if I wouldn't have known. 'And a music major,' she added.

'My name is Oliver,' I said.

'First or last?' she asked.

'First,' I answered, and then confessed that my entire name was Oliver Barrett. (I mean, that's most of it.)

'Oh,' she said. 'Barrett, like the poet?'

'Yes,' I said. 'No relation.'

In the pause that ensued, I gave inward thanks that she hadn't come up with the usual distressing question: 'Barrett, like the hall?' For it is my special albatross to be related to the guy that built Barrett Hall, the largest and ugliest structure in Harvard Yard, a colossal monument to my family's money, vanity — and flagrant Harvardism.

After that, she was pretty quiet. Could we have run out of conversation so quickly? Had I turned her off by not being related to the poet? What? She simply sat there, semi-smiling at me. For something to do, I checked out her notebooks. Her handwriting was curious — small sharp little letters with no capitals (who did she think she was, e. e. cummings?). And she was taking some pretty snowy courses: Comp. Lit. 105, Music 150, Music 201 —

'Music 201? Isn't that a graduate course?'

She nodded yes, and was not very good at masking her pride.

'Renaissance polyphony.'

'What's polyphony?'

'Nothing sexual, Preppie.'

Why was I putting up with this? Doesn't she read the Crimson? Doesn't she know who I am?

'Hey, don't you know who I am?'

'Yeah,' she answered with kind of disdain. 'You're the guy that owns Barrett Hall.'

She didn't know who I was.

'I don't own Barrett Hall,' I quibbled. 'My great-grandfather happened to give it to Harvard.

'So his not-so-great grandson would be sure to get in!'That was the limit.

'Jenny, if you're so convinced I'm a loser, why did you bulldoze me into buying you coffee?'

She looked me straight in the eye and smiled. 'I like your body,' she said. Part of being a big winner is the ability to be a good loser. There's no paradox involved. It's a distinctly Harvard thing to be able to turn any defeat into victory.

'Tough luck, Barrett. You played a helluva game.'

'Really, I'm so glad you fellows took it, I mean, you people need to win so badly'

Of course, an out-and-out triumph is better. I mean, if you have the option, the last-minute score is preferable. And as I walked Jenny back to her dorm, I had not despaired of ultimate victory over this snotty Radcliffe bitch.

'Listen, you snotty Radcliffe bitch, Friday night is the Dartmouth hockey game.'

'So?'

'So I'd like you to come.'

She replied with the usual Radcliffe reverence for sport: 'Why the hell should I come to a lousy hockey game?'

I answered casually: 'Because I'm playing.'

There was a brief silence. I think I heard snow falling. 'For which side?' she asked.

Сhapter 22

Phil Cavilleri was in the solarium, smoking his ninth cigarette, when I appeared.

'Phil? 'I said softly.

'Yeah?' He looked up and I think he already knew.

He obviously needed some kind of physical comforting. I walked over and placed my hand on his shoulder. I was afraid he might cry. I was pretty sure I wouldn't. Couldn't. I mean, I was past all that.

He put his hand on mine.

'I wish,' he muttered, 'I wished I hadn't …' He paused there, and I waited. What was the hurry, after all?

'I wish I hadn't promised Jenny to be strong for you.'

And, to honor his pledge, he patted my hand very gently. But I had to be alone. To breathe air. To take a walk, maybe.

Downstairs, the hospital lobby was absolutely still. All I could hear was the click of my own heels on the linoleum.

'Oliver.'

I stopped.

It was my father. Except for the woman at the reception desk we were all by ourselves there. In fact, we were among the few people in New York awake at that hour.

I couldn't face him. I went straight for the revolving door. But in an instant he was out there standing next to me.

'Oliver,' he said, 'you should have told me.'

It was very cold, which in a way was good because I was numb and wanted to feel something. My father continued to address me, and I continued to stand still and let the cold wind slap my face.

'As soon as I found out, I jumped into the car.'

I had forgotten my coat; the chill was starting to make me ache. Good. Good.

'Oliver,' said my father urgently, 'I want to help.'

'Jenny's dead,' I told him.

'I'm sorry,' he said in a stunned whisper.

Not knowing why, I repeated what I had long ago learned from the beautiful girl now dead.

'Love means not ever having to say you're sorry.'

And then I did what I had never done in his presence, much less in his arms. I cried.

Notes.

1.Renaissance – is a period in Europe from the 14^th to the 17^th century, considered as bridge between the Middle Ages and Modern History. Started as cultural movement in Italy.

2.Harvard University – a private Ivy League research university in Cambridge, Massachusetts, USA. Established in 1636.

3.Redcliff College – a women’s liberal arts college in Cambridge, USA. One of the Seven Sisters colleges. Today is a part of Harvard University.

4.The Seven Sisters – 7 highly prestigious women’s private arts colleges in USA.

5.Ivy League – refers to a group of 8 private, east-coast colleges and universities, renowned for providing an excellent education. They are; Harvard, Yale, Pennsylvania, Princeton, Columbia, Brown, Dartmouth, Cornell.

6.Edward Estlin Cummings (1894-1962)- an American poet, painter, essayist, author, playwright. He used to write his name with non-capital letters – e.e.cummings.

7.Polyphony – a type of musical texture.

8. Elizabeth Barret – English poetess of the Victoria era.

9.”The Crimson” – daily students paper at Harvard.

10. Grading at universities. Generally grades are assigned as letters. To compare with Russian school: A – 5, A* - 5+, B – 4, C – 3, D – 3-, F – 2.

Ø TRANSLATION TIPS

A). Translate the following sentences with if.

1. Tell me if anything strikes you. 2. But be careful tomorrow because if anything should go wrong... 3.He said if anything went wrong, they'd kill Barbara. 4. Well, keep me posted if anything does pop up. 5. Let me know if anything acts pissy. 6. Listen to me, if anything is missing or broken it comes out of your paycheck.7.We'll contact you if anything comes up. 8. And if anything were to happen to you, we will name our firstborn son Howard. 9. Let me know if anything seems familiar. 10. And I really believe... You would make an effort to protect me if anything happened. 11. Keep

attention to words in italics.

1. No sooner were they in office than they proceeded upon the fundamental misreading of the mood of the people. 2. Since he has been in the White House, the President's Office has been radically reorganized. 3. The leader of the victorious party was offered the office of Prime Minister. 4. Turkey's pattern of development since 1948 cannot be explained only as a drive for self-sufficiency. 5. Key to the destruction of the old colonial pattern is industrialization. 6. The important task of preserving peace lies mainly with the great powers. 7. They have

the words BADLY, LOUSY.

1. Why do you think so badly of me? 2. I have a feeling this will turn out badly.  3. Things were going badly for him in Germany. 4. The kids were tired and behaved badly. 5. He hurt her badly, she will never forgive him. 6. I want it badly. 7. His car was badly damaged in an accident. 8. She chose her friends badly. 9. My throat hurt badly when I coughed. 10. I miss her so badly, I can't wait to see her again. 11. I feel lousy today. 12. They did a lousy job. 13. It's a lousy, rainy day. 14. I like the work, but the pay is lousy. 15. He is still stuck with that lousy car. 16. He plunged his lousy head in the pillows. 17. I'm lousy at tennis. 18. The town was lousy with tourists. 19. He left me a lousy fifty cent tip. 20. That's a lousy way to treat a friend. 21. He drank too much and felt lousy the next morning. 22. A great actor who lavished his talent in lousy movies.  

JMEDIA LOG

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