Questões para Concursos

Read the text to answer question. The last century of language teaching history, operating within this theory-practice, researcher teacher dichotomy, has not been completely devoid of dialogue between the two sides. We moved in and out of paradigms (Kuhn, 1970) as inadequacies of the old ways of doing things were replaced by better ways. These trends in language teaching were partly the result of teachers and researchers communicating with each other. The custom of leaving theory to researchers and practice to teachers has become, in Clarke’s (1994) words, “dysfunctional”. What is becoming clearer in this profession now is the importance of viewing the process of language instruction as a cooperative dialog among many technicians, each endowed with special skills, such as program developing, textbook writing, measuring variables of acquisition, designing experiments, and the list goes on. We are all practitioners and we are all theorists. Whenever that understanding calls for putting together diverse bits and pieces of knowledge, you are doing some theory building. Or, if you have observed some learners in classrooms and you discern common threads of process among them, you have created a theory. And whenever you, in the role of a teacher, ask pertinent questions about Second Language Acquisition (SLA), you are beginning the process of research that can lead to a theoretical statement. (Brown, H.D. 2006. Adaptado)

Read the text to answer question. The last century of language teaching history, operating within this theory-practice, researcher teacher dichotomy, has not been completely devoid of dialogue between the two sides. We moved in and out of paradigms (Kuhn, 1970) as inadequacies of the old ways of doing things were replaced by better ways. These trends in language teaching were partly the result of teachers and researchers communicating with each other. The custom of leaving theory to researchers and practice to teachers has become, in Clarke’s (1994) words, “dysfunctional”. What is becoming clearer in this profession now is the importance of viewing the process of language instruction as a cooperative dialog among many technicians, each endowed with special skills, such as program developing, textbook writing, measuring variables of acquisition, designing experiments, and the list goes on. We are all practitioners and we are all theorists. Whenever that understanding calls for putting together diverse bits and pieces of knowledge, you are doing some theory building. Or, if you have observed some learners in classrooms and you discern common threads of process among them, you have created a theory. And whenever you, in the role of a teacher, ask pertinent questions about Second Language Acquisition (SLA), you are beginning the process of research that can lead to a theoretical statement. (Brown, H.D. 2006. Adaptado)

Read the text to answer the question from. It happens that the publication of this edition of the Oxford Advanced Learner’s Dictionary comes 250 years after the appearance of the first comprehensive dictionary of the English language, compiled by Samuel Johnson. Much has changed since then. The English that Johnson described in 1755 was relatively well defined, still essentially the national property of the British. Since then, it has dispersed and diversified, has been adopted and adapted as an international means of communication by communities all over the globe. English is now the name given to an immensely diverse variety of different usages. This obviously poses a problem of selection for the dictionary maker: which words are to be included in a dictionary, and thus granted recognition as more centrally or essentially English than the words that are left out? Johnson did not have to deal with such diversity, but he too was exercised with this question. In his Plan of an English Dictionary , published in 1747, he considers which words it is proper to include in his dictionary; whether ‘terms of particular professions’, for example, were eligible, particularly since many of them had been derived from other languages. ‘Of such words,’ he says, ‘all are not equally to be considered as parts of our language, for some of them are naturalized and incorporated, but others still continue aliens...’. Which words are deemed to be sufficiently naturalized or incorporated to count as ‘parts of our language’, ‘real’ or proper English, and thus worthy of inclusion in a dictionary of the language, remains, of course, a controversial matter. Interestingly enough, even for Johnson the status of a word in the language was not the only, nor indeed the most important consideration. For being alien did not itself disqualify words from inclusion; in a remark which has considerable current resonance he adds: ‘some seem necessary to be retained, because the purchaser of the dictionary will expect to find them’. And, crucially, the expectations that people have of a dictionary are based on what they want to use it for. What Johnson says of his own dictionary would apply very aptly to The Oxford Advanced Learner’s Dictionary (OALD): ‘The value of a work must be estimated by its use: It is not enough that a dictionary delights the critic, unless at the same time it instructs the learner...’. (Widdowson, H. Hornby , A.S. 2010. Adaptado)

Read the text to answer the question from. It happens that the publication of this edition of the Oxford Advanced Learner’s Dictionary comes 250 years after the appearance of the first comprehensive dictionary of the English language, compiled by Samuel Johnson. Much has changed since then. The English that Johnson described in 1755 was relatively well defined, still essentially the national property of the British. Since then, it has dispersed and diversified, has been adopted and adapted as an international means of communication by communities all over the globe. English is now the name given to an immensely diverse variety of different usages. This obviously poses a problem of selection for the dictionary maker: which words are to be included in a dictionary, and thus granted recognition as more centrally or essentially English than the words that are left out? Johnson did not have to deal with such diversity, but he too was exercised with this question. In his Plan of an English Dictionary , published in 1747, he considers which words it is proper to include in his dictionary; whether ‘terms of particular professions’, for example, were eligible, particularly since many of them had been derived from other languages. ‘Of such words,’ he says, ‘all are not equally to be considered as parts of our language, for some of them are naturalized and incorporated, but others still continue aliens...’. Which words are deemed to be sufficiently naturalized or incorporated to count as ‘parts of our language’, ‘real’ or proper English, and thus worthy of inclusion in a dictionary of the language, remains, of course, a controversial matter. Interestingly enough, even for Johnson the status of a word in the language was not the only, nor indeed the most important consideration. For being alien did not itself disqualify words from inclusion; in a remark which has considerable current resonance he adds: ‘some seem necessary to be retained, because the purchaser of the dictionary will expect to find them’. And, crucially, the expectations that people have of a dictionary are based on what they want to use it for. What Johnson says of his own dictionary would apply very aptly to The Oxford Advanced Learner’s Dictionary (OALD): ‘The value of a work must be estimated by its use: It is not enough that a dictionary delights the critic, unless at the same time it instructs the learner...’. (Widdowson, H. Hornby , A.S. 2010. Adaptado)

Read the text to answer the question from. It happens that the publication of this edition of the Oxford Advanced Learner’s Dictionary comes 250 years after the appearance of the first comprehensive dictionary of the English language, compiled by Samuel Johnson. Much has changed since then. The English that Johnson described in 1755 was relatively well defined, still essentially the national property of the British. Since then, it has dispersed and diversified, has been adopted and adapted as an international means of communication by communities all over the globe. English is now the name given to an immensely diverse variety of different usages. This obviously poses a problem of selection for the dictionary maker: which words are to be included in a dictionary, and thus granted recognition as more centrally or essentially English than the words that are left out? Johnson did not have to deal with such diversity, but he too was exercised with this question. In his Plan of an English Dictionary , published in 1747, he considers which words it is proper to include in his dictionary; whether ‘terms of particular professions’, for example, were eligible, particularly since many of them had been derived from other languages. ‘Of such words,’ he says, ‘all are not equally to be considered as parts of our language, for some of them are naturalized and incorporated, but others still continue aliens...’. Which words are deemed to be sufficiently naturalized or incorporated to count as ‘parts of our language’, ‘real’ or proper English, and thus worthy of inclusion in a dictionary of the language, remains, of course, a controversial matter. Interestingly enough, even for Johnson the status of a word in the language was not the only, nor indeed the most important consideration. For being alien did not itself disqualify words from inclusion; in a remark which has considerable current resonance he adds: ‘some seem necessary to be retained, because the purchaser of the dictionary will expect to find them’. And, crucially, the expectations that people have of a dictionary are based on what they want to use it for. What Johnson says of his own dictionary would apply very aptly to The Oxford Advanced Learner’s Dictionary (OALD): ‘The value of a work must be estimated by its use: It is not enough that a dictionary delights the critic, unless at the same time it instructs the learner...’. (Widdowson, H. Hornby , A.S. 2010. Adaptado)

Leia o texto para responder à questão. Practice often receives an unfair treatment in the field of applied linguistics. Most laypeople simply assume that practice is a necessary condition for language learning without giving the concept much further thought, but many applied linguists deliberately avoid the term practice. For some, the word conjures up images of repetitive drills in the factories of foreign language learning, while for others it means fun and games to entertain students on Friday afternoons. Practice is by no means a dirty word in other domains of human endeavor, however. Parents dutifully take their kids to soccer practice, and professional athletes dutifully show up for team practice, sometimes even with recent injuries. Parents make their kids practice their piano skills at home, and the world’s most famous performers of classical music often practice for many hours a day, even if it makes their fingers hurt. If even idolized, spoiled, and highly paid celebrities are willing to put up with practice, why not language learners, teachers, or researchers? (DEKEYSER, Robert. Practice in a second language. Perspectives from Applied Linguistics and Cognitive Psychology. Cambridge, 2007. Adaptado)

Leia o texto para responder à questão. Practice often receives an unfair treatment in the field of applied linguistics. Most laypeople simply assume that practice is a necessary condition for language learning without giving the concept much further thought, but many applied linguists deliberately avoid the term practice. For some, the word conjures up images of repetitive drills in the factories of foreign language learning, while for others it means fun and games to entertain students on Friday afternoons. Practice is by no means a dirty word in other domains of human endeavor, however. Parents dutifully take their kids to soccer practice, and professional athletes dutifully show up for team practice, sometimes even with recent injuries. Parents make their kids practice their piano skills at home, and the world’s most famous performers of classical music often practice for many hours a day, even if it makes their fingers hurt. If even idolized, spoiled, and highly paid celebrities are willing to put up with practice, why not language learners, teachers, or researchers? (DEKEYSER, Robert. Practice in a second language. Perspectives from Applied Linguistics and Cognitive Psychology. Cambridge, 2007. Adaptado)

Leia o texto para responder à questão. Practice often receives an unfair treatment in the field of applied linguistics. Most laypeople simply assume that practice is a necessary condition for language learning without giving the concept much further thought, but many applied linguists deliberately avoid the term practice. For some, the word conjures up images of repetitive drills in the factories of foreign language learning, while for others it means fun and games to entertain students on Friday afternoons. Practice is by no means a dirty word in other domains of human endeavor, however. Parents dutifully take their kids to soccer practice, and professional athletes dutifully show up for team practice, sometimes even with recent injuries. Parents make their kids practice their piano skills at home, and the world’s most famous performers of classical music often practice for many hours a day, even if it makes their fingers hurt. If even idolized, spoiled, and highly paid celebrities are willing to put up with practice, why not language learners, teachers, or researchers? (DEKEYSER, Robert. Practice in a second language. Perspectives from Applied Linguistics and Cognitive Psychology. Cambridge, 2007. Adaptado)

Leia o texto para responder à questão. Practice often receives an unfair treatment in the field of applied linguistics. Most laypeople simply assume that practice is a necessary condition for language learning without giving the concept much further thought, but many applied linguists deliberately avoid the term practice. For some, the word conjures up images of repetitive drills in the factories of foreign language learning, while for others it means fun and games to entertain students on Friday afternoons. Practice is by no means a dirty word in other domains of human endeavor, however. Parents dutifully take their kids to soccer practice, and professional athletes dutifully show up for team practice, sometimes even with recent injuries. Parents make their kids practice their piano skills at home, and the world’s most famous performers of classical music often practice for many hours a day, even if it makes their fingers hurt. If even idolized, spoiled, and highly paid celebrities are willing to put up with practice, why not language learners, teachers, or researchers? (DEKEYSER, Robert. Practice in a second language. Perspectives from Applied Linguistics and Cognitive Psychology. Cambridge, 2007. Adaptado)

Leia o texto para responder à questão. ELF: English as a lingua franca The Vienna Oxford International Corpus of English (VOICE), a collection of English as a Lingua Franca (ELF) currently under construction, defines lingua franca as an additionally acquired language system that serves as a means of communication for speakers from different speech communities, who use it to communicate with each other but for whom it is not their native language. Early findings from the VOICE corpus tentatively identify a number of features which point to systematic lexicogrammatical differences between native-speaker English and ELF, for example dropping the third person present tense ‘s’ (e.g. she wear), omitting definite and indefinite articles, insertion of prepositions (e.g. can we discuss about this issue). These features are not a threat to comprehension, as they involve typical errors that most English teachers would correct and remediate. However, Seidlhofer (2004) points out that they appear to be generally unproblematic and do not cause an obstacle to communicative success in ELF. The work of Jenkins (1996, 2000, 2004, 2005) has also been very influential in relation to the teaching of pronunciation for ELF. Her research finds that a number of items common to most native-speaker varieties of English were not necessary in successful ELF interactions; for example, the substitution of voiceless and voiced th with /t/ or /s/ and /d/ or /z/ (e.g. think became sink or tink , and this became dis or zis ). Jenkins argues that such features occur regularly in ELF interactions and do not cause intelligibility problems. Problems may arise in the (perhaps unfair) equation between a reduced or ‘stripped down’ ELF syllabus and an impoverished experience of the L2. Indeed, it could be argued that learners of any language always end up producing less than the input they are exposed to, and that if that input itself is deliberately restricted, then even less will be the outcome. (O’KEEFFE, A., MCCARTHY, M. & CARTER, R. From corpus to classroom. Language Use and Language Teaching. Cambridge, CUP. 2007. Adaptado)