2016上半年教师资格证考试《英语学科知识与教学能力》（高级中学）真题

Which of the following activities may be more appropriate to help students practice a newstructure immediately after presentation in class

Which of the following is a typical feature of informal writing

Excellent novels are those which ____ national and cultural barriers.

As Alice believed him to be a man of integrity, she refused to consider the possibility that his statement was＿＿．

The girls are afraid that being friendly to strangers could be misinterpreted by their＿＿neighbours.

His presentation will show you ____ can be used in other contexts.

Many students start each term with an award check, but by the time books are bought, food is paid for, and a bit of social life ＿＿, it looks rather emaciated.

Which of the following is correct in its use of punctuation标点?

The pair of English phonemes音素 _ differ in the place of articulation发音部位.

There are ＿ consonant clusters辅音连缀 in the sentence “Brian, I appreciate beautiful scarf you brought me.”

When saying “It?s noisy outside” to get someone to close the window, the speaker intends to perform a(n) ＿.

That a Japanese child adopted at birth by an American couple will grow up speaking English indicates ＿ of human language.

Fluent and appropriate language use requires knowledge of ＿ and this suggests that we should teach lexical chunks rather than single words.

“Underlining all the past form verbs in the dialogue” is a typical exercise focusing on ＿.

When teaching students how to give appropriate responses to a congratulation or an apology, the teacher is probably teaching at ＿.

Which of the following activities can help develop the skill of listening for gist?

When an EFL teacher asks his student “How do you know that the author liked the place since he did not tell us explicitly?”, he/she is helping students to reach ＿ comprehension.

Which of the following types of questions are mostly used for checking literal comprehension of the text?

Peer-editing during class is an important step of the ＿ approach to teaching writing.

Portfolios, daily reports and speech delivering are typical means of ＿.

When the Viaduct de Millau opened in the south of France in 2004, this tallest bridge in the world won worldwide accolades. German newspapers described how it “floated above the clouds” with “elegance and lightness” and “breathtaking” beauty. In France, papers praised the “immense” “concrete giant.” Was it mere coincidence that the Germans saw beauty where the French saw heft and power? Lera Borodisky thinks not. In a series of clever experiments guided by pointed questions, Boroditsky is amassing evidence that, yes, language shapes thought. The effect is powerful enough, she says, that “the private mental lives of speakers of different languages may differ dramatically,” not only when they are thinking in order to speak, “but in all manner of cognitive tasks,” including basic sensory perception. “Even a small fluke of grammar”—the gender of nouns—“can have an effect on how people think about things in the world,” she says.

As in that bridge, in German, the noun for bridge, Brucke, is feminine. In French, pont is masculine. German speakers saw prototypically female features; Frenchspeakers, masculine ones. Similarly, Germans describe keys (Schlussel) with words such as hard, heavy, jagged, and metal, while to Spaniards keys (llaves) are golden, intricate, little, and lovely. Guess which language construes key as masculine and which as feminine? Grammatical gender also shapes how we construe abstractions. In 85 percent of artistic depictions of death and victory, for instance, the idea is represented by a man if the noun is masculine and a woman if it is feminine, says Boroditsky. Germans tend to paint death as male, and Russians tend to paint it as female. Language even shapes what we see. People have a better memory for colors if different shades have distinct names—not English?s light blue and dark blue, for instance, but Russian?s goluboy and sinly. Skeptics of the language-shapes-thought claim have argued that that?s a trivial finding, showing only tha

When the Viaduct de Millau opened in the south of France in 2004, this tallest bridge in the world won worldwide accolades. German newspapers described how it “floated above the clouds” with “elegance and lightness” and “breathtaking” beauty. In France, papers praised the “immense” “concrete giant.” Was it mere coincidence that the Germans saw beauty where the French saw heft and power? Lera Borodisky thinks not. In a series of clever experiments guided by pointed questions, Boroditsky is amassing evidence that, yes, language shapes thought. The effect is powerful enough, she says, that “the private mental lives of speakers of different languages may differ dramatically,” not only when they are thinking in order to speak, “but in all manner of cognitive tasks,” including basic sensory perception. “Even a small fluke of grammar”—the gender of nouns—“can have an effect on how people think about things in the world,” she says.

As in that bridge, in German, the noun for bridge, Brucke, is feminine. In French, pont is masculine. German speakers saw prototypically female features; Frenchspeakers, masculine ones. Similarly, Germans describe keys (Schlussel) with words such as hard, heavy, jagged, and metal, while to Spaniards keys (llaves) are golden, intricate, little, and lovely. Guess which language construes key as masculine and which as feminine? Grammatical gender also shapes how we construe abstractions. In 85 percent of artistic depictions of death and victory, for instance, the idea is represented by a man if the noun is masculine and a woman if it is feminine, says Boroditsky. Germans tend to paint death as male, and Russians tend to paint it as female. Language even shapes what we see. People have a better memory for colors if different shades have distinct names—not English?s light blue and dark blue, for instance, but Russian?s goluboy and sinly. Skeptics of the language-shapes-thought claim have argued that that?s a trivial finding, showing only tha

When the Viaduct de Millau opened in the south of France in 2004, this tallest bridge in the world won worldwide accolades. German newspapers described how it “floated above the clouds” with “elegance and lightness” and “breathtaking” beauty. In France, papers praised the “immense” “concrete giant.” Was it mere coincidence that the Germans saw beauty where the French saw heft and power? Lera Borodisky thinks not. In a series of clever experiments guided by pointed questions, Boroditsky is amassing evidence that, yes, language shapes thought. The effect is powerful enough, she says, that “the private mental lives of speakers of different languages may differ dramatically,” not only when they are thinking in order to speak, “but in all manner of cognitive tasks,” including basic sensory perception. “Even a small fluke of grammar”—the gender of nouns—“can have an effect on how people think about things in the world,” she says.

As in that bridge, in German, the noun for bridge, Brucke, is feminine. In French, pont is masculine. German speakers saw prototypically female features; Frenchspeakers, masculine ones. Similarly, Germans describe keys (Schlussel) with words such as hard, heavy, jagged, and metal, while to Spaniards keys (llaves) are golden, intricate, little, and lovely. Guess which language construes key as masculine and which as feminine? Grammatical gender also shapes how we construe abstractions. In 85 percent of artistic depictions of death and victory, for instance, the idea is represented by a man if the noun is masculine and a woman if it is feminine, says Boroditsky. Germans tend to paint death as male, and Russians tend to paint it as female. Language even shapes what we see. People have a better memory for colors if different shades have distinct names—not English?s light blue and dark blue, for instance, but Russian?s goluboy and sinly. Skeptics of the language-shapes-thought claim have argued that that?s a trivial finding, showing only tha

When the Viaduct de Millau opened in the south of France in 2004, this tallest bridge in the world won worldwide accolades. German newspapers described how it “floated above the clouds” with “elegance and lightness” and “breathtaking” beauty. In France, papers praised the “immense” “concrete giant.” Was it mere coincidence that the Germans saw beauty where the French saw heft and power? Lera Borodisky thinks not. In a series of clever experiments guided by pointed questions, Boroditsky is amassing evidence that, yes, language shapes thought. The effect is powerful enough, she says, that “the private mental lives of speakers of different languages may differ dramatically,” not only when they are thinking in order to speak, “but in all manner of cognitive tasks,” including basic sensory perception. “Even a small fluke of grammar”—the gender of nouns—“can have an effect on how people think about things in the world,” she says.

As in that bridge, in German, the noun for bridge, Brucke, is feminine. In French, pont is masculine. German speakers saw prototypically female features; Frenchspeakers, masculine ones. Similarly, Germans describe keys (Schlussel) with words such as hard, heavy, jagged, and metal, while to Spaniards keys (llaves) are golden, intricate, little, and lovely. Guess which language construes key as masculine and which as feminine? Grammatical gender also shapes how we construe abstractions. In 85 percent of artistic depictions of death and victory, for instance, the idea is represented by a man if the noun is masculine and a woman if it is feminine, says Boroditsky. Germans tend to paint death as male, and Russians tend to paint it as female. Language even shapes what we see. People have a better memory for colors if different shades have distinct names—not English?s light blue and dark blue, for instance, but Russian?s goluboy and sinly. Skeptics of the language-shapes-thought claim have argued that that?s a trivial finding, showing only tha

When the Viaduct de Millau opened in the south of France in 2004, this tallest bridge in the world won worldwide accolades. German newspapers described how it “floated above the clouds” with “elegance and lightness” and “breathtaking” beauty. In France, papers praised the “immense” “concrete giant.” Was it mere coincidence that the Germans saw beauty where the French saw heft and power? Lera Borodisky thinks not. In a series of clever experiments guided by pointed questions, Boroditsky is amassing evidence that, yes, language shapes thought. The effect is powerful enough, she says, that “the private mental lives of speakers of different languages may differ dramatically,” not only when they are thinking in order to speak, “but in all manner of cognitive tasks,” including basic sensory perception. “Even a small fluke of grammar”—the gender of nouns—“can have an effect on how people think about things in the world,” she says.

As in that bridge, in German, the noun for bridge, Brucke, is feminine. In French, pont is masculine. German speakers saw prototypically female features; Frenchspeakers, masculine ones. Similarly, Germans describe keys (Schlussel) with words such as hard, heavy, jagged, and metal, while to Spaniards keys (llaves) are golden, intricate, little, and lovely. Guess which language construes key as masculine and which as feminine? Grammatical gender also shapes how we construe abstractions. In 85 percent of artistic depictions of death and victory, for instance, the idea is represented by a man if the noun is masculine and a woman if it is feminine, says Boroditsky. Germans tend to paint death as male, and Russians tend to paint it as female. Language even shapes what we see. People have a better memory for colors if different shades have distinct names—not English?s light blue and dark blue, for instance, but Russian?s goluboy and sinly. Skeptics of the language-shapes-thought claim have argued that that?s a trivial finding, showing only tha

When American-born actor Michael Pena was a year old, his parents were deported. They had illegally walked across the U.S. border from Mexico and when they were caught by immigration authorities, they sent Pena and his brother to stay with relatives in the U.S. “It was quite a bit of a gamble for my parents,” says Pena, “but they came back a year later.” Pena?s father, who had been a farmer in Mexico, got a job at a button factory in Chicago and, eventually, a green card. Pena stayed in Chicago until, at 19, he fled to Los Angeles to pursue his acting dreams. This family history makes Pena?s latest role especially personal. In Cesar Chavez, Pena plays the labor leader as he struggles to organize immigrant California farm workers in the 1960s. To pressure growers to improve working conditions and wages, Chavez led a national boycott of table grapes that lasted from 1965 to 1970 and is recorded in the film. Chavez, like Pena, was the American-born son of Mexican farmers who immigrated to the U.S. “

He understands this duality, the feeling of being born in a place but having a very big idea of where your heritage comes from,” says the film director, Diego Luna. “This thing of having to go to school and learn in English and then go home to speak Spanish with your parents.”

As immigration policy is hotly debated on Capitol Hill this year, Luna and others who were involved with Cesar Chavez are hoping the movie will spark new support for reform and inspire American Latinos to get involved. “The message Chavez left was that change couldn?t happen without the masses being a part of their own change,” says Ferrera, a first generation Honduran American who plays the union leader?s wife Helen. Rosario Dawson, who co-founded the advocacy group Voto Latino, plays Chavez ally and labor leader Dolores Huerta.

Immigrant-rights issues in the U.S. have evolved substantially in the years since Chavez founded the United Farm Workers (UFW). Undocumented worker

When American-born actor Michael Pena was a year old, his parents were deported. They had illegally walked across the U.S. border from Mexico and when they were caught by immigration authorities, they sent Pena and his brother to stay with relatives in the U.S. “It was quite a bit of a gamble for my parents,” says Pena, “but they came back a year later.” Pena?s father, who had been a farmer in Mexico, got a job at a button factory in Chicago and, eventually, a green card. Pena stayed in Chicago until, at 19, he fled to Los Angeles to pursue his acting dreams. This family history makes Pena?s latest role especially personal. In Cesar Chavez, Pena plays the labor leader as he struggles to organize immigrant California farm workers in the 1960s. To pressure growers to improve working conditions and wages, Chavez led a national boycott of table grapes that lasted from 1965 to 1970 and is recorded in the film. Chavez, like Pena, was the American-born son of Mexican farmers who immigrated to the U.S. “

He understands this duality, the feeling of being born in a place but having a very big idea of where your heritage comes from,” says the film director, Diego Luna. “This thing of having to go to school and learn in English and then go home to speak Spanish with your parents.”

As immigration policy is hotly debated on Capitol Hill this year, Luna and others who were involved with Cesar Chavez are hoping the movie will spark new support for reform and inspire American Latinos to get involved. “The message Chavez left was that change couldn?t happen without the masses being a part of their own change,” says Ferrera, a first generation Honduran American who plays the union leader?s wife Helen. Rosario Dawson, who co-founded the advocacy group Voto Latino, plays Chavez ally and labor leader Dolores Huerta.

Immigrant-rights issues in the U.S. have evolved substantially in the years since Chavez founded the United Farm Workers (UFW). Undocumented worker

When American-born actor Michael Pena was a year old, his parents were deported. They had illegally walked across the U.S. border from Mexico and when they were caught by immigration authorities, they sent Pena and his brother to stay with relatives in the U.S. “It was quite a bit of a gamble for my parents,” says Pena, “but they came back a year later.” Pena?s father, who had been a farmer in Mexico, got a job at a button factory in Chicago and, eventually, a green card. Pena stayed in Chicago until, at 19, he fled to Los Angeles to pursue his acting dreams. This family history makes Pena?s latest role especially personal. In Cesar Chavez, Pena plays the labor leader as he struggles to organize immigrant California farm workers in the 1960s. To pressure growers to improve working conditions and wages, Chavez led a national boycott of table grapes that lasted from 1965 to 1970 and is recorded in the film. Chavez, like Pena, was the American-born son of Mexican farmers who immigrated to the U.S. “

He understands this duality, the feeling of being born in a place but having a very big idea of where your heritage comes from,” says the film director, Diego Luna. “This thing of having to go to school and learn in English and then go home to speak Spanish with your parents.”

As immigration policy is hotly debated on Capitol Hill this year, Luna and others who were involved with Cesar Chavez are hoping the movie will spark new support for reform and inspire American Latinos to get involved. “The message Chavez left was that change couldn?t happen without the masses being a part of their own change,” says Ferrera, a first generation Honduran American who plays the union leader?s wife Helen. Rosario Dawson, who co-founded the advocacy group Voto Latino, plays Chavez ally and labor leader Dolores Huerta.

Immigrant-rights issues in the U.S. have evolved substantially in the years since Chavez founded the United Farm Workers (UFW). Undocumented worker

When American-born actor Michael Pena was a year old, his parents were deported. They had illegally walked across the U.S. border from Mexico and when they were caught by immigration authorities, they sent Pena and his brother to stay with relatives in the U.S. “It was quite a bit of a gamble for my parents,” says Pena, “but they came back a year later.” Pena?s father, who had been a farmer in Mexico, got a job at a button factory in Chicago and, eventually, a green card. Pena stayed in Chicago until, at 19, he fled to Los Angeles to pursue his acting dreams. This family history makes Pena?s latest role especially personal. In Cesar Chavez, Pena plays the labor leader as he struggles to organize immigrant California farm workers in the 1960s. To pressure growers to improve working conditions and wages, Chavez led a national boycott of table grapes that lasted from 1965 to 1970 and is recorded in the film. Chavez, like Pena, was the American-born son of Mexican farmers who immigrated to the U.S. “

He understands this duality, the feeling of being born in a place but having a very big idea of where your heritage comes from,” says the film director, Diego Luna. “This thing of having to go to school and learn in English and then go home to speak Spanish with your parents.”

As immigration policy is hotly debated on Capitol Hill this year, Luna and others who were involved with Cesar Chavez are hoping the movie will spark new support for reform and inspire American Latinos to get involved. “The message Chavez left was that change couldn?t happen without the masses being a part of their own change,” says Ferrera, a first generation Honduran American who plays the union leader?s wife Helen. Rosario Dawson, who co-founded the advocacy group Voto Latino, plays Chavez ally and labor leader Dolores Huerta.

Immigrant-rights issues in the U.S. have evolved substantially in the years since Chavez founded the United Farm Workers (UFW). Undocumented worker

When American-born actor Michael Pena was a year old, his parents were deported. They had illegally walked across the U.S. border from Mexico and when they were caught by immigration authorities, they sent Pena and his brother to stay with relatives in the U.S. “It was quite a bit of a gamble for my parents,” says Pena, “but they came back a year later.” Pena?s father, who had been a farmer in Mexico, got a job at a button factory in Chicago and, eventually, a green card. Pena stayed in Chicago until, at 19, he fled to Los Angeles to pursue his acting dreams. This family history makes Pena?s latest role especially personal. In Cesar Chavez, Pena plays the labor leader as he struggles to organize immigrant California farm workers in the 1960s. To pressure growers to improve working conditions and wages, Chavez led a national boycott of table grapes that lasted from 1965 to 1970 and is recorded in the film. Chavez, like Pena, was the American-born son of Mexican farmers who immigrated to the U.S. “

He understands this duality, the feeling of being born in a place but having a very big idea of where your heritage comes from,” says the film director, Diego Luna. “This thing of having to go to school and learn in English and then go home to speak Spanish with your parents.”

As immigration policy is hotly debated on Capitol Hill this year, Luna and others who were involved with Cesar Chavez are hoping the movie will spark new support for reform and inspire American Latinos to get involved. “The message Chavez left was that change couldn?t happen without the masses being a part of their own change,” says Ferrera, a first generation Honduran American who plays the union leader?s wife Helen. Rosario Dawson, who co-founded the advocacy group Voto Latino, plays Chavez ally and labor leader Dolores Huerta.

Immigrant-rights issues in the U.S. have evolved substantially in the years since Chavez founded the United Farm Workers (UFW). Undocumented worker