CDI 인문학 과정, 영어 대안교육의 가능성 제시...05~06 겨울학기 프로젝트 최우수작 선정
CDI 청담어학원(대표이사 김영화)은 3월 13일, 2005-6시즌의 인문학 과정(클래스 프렙)에서 시행한 겨울 학기 프로젝트 최우수작을 선정하여 발표했다. 리딩 부문에서 권도형(정자중3)군의 “Greek Morals in Holy Matrimony (고대 그리스의 혼례관)”, 증거능력과 주장을 다룬 스피킹 부문에서 검찰 기소 진술로 안중현(가원중2)군, 문학창작 부문에서 “Rebellion(반란)”으로 송지은(오륜중2)양이 수상자로 선정되었다.
청담어학원의 인문학 과정(클래스 프렙)은 최상급 학생들을 상대로 하여, 영어로 진행하는 고급 인문학 프로그램이다. 서양 고전의 문학작품과 역사서 토론 프로젝트, 현대문학 비평, 모의 법정 공격과 방어 프로젝트, 시-드라마-단편소설 쓰기 프로젝트로 구성된다.
국내 청소년들이 인문학을 영어와 프로젝트 기반으로 접근하게 함으로써 영어 대안 교육에 있어 하나의 전형을 제시했다는 평가를 받고 있는 청담의 인문학 과정(클래스 프렙)은 예술적 표현을 중시하는 영국의 슈타이너 학교, 체험 프로젝트를 중심으로 하는 일본의 키노쿠니 학교와 더불어 세계화 시대를 대비한 차별화된 교육과정으로 많은 학부모의 관심과 기대를 얻고 있다.
[참고자료]청담어학원 클래스 프랩 텀 프로젝트 부문별 최우수작
리딩부문 최우수작
Greek Morals in Holy Matrimony
By David Kwon
권도형 (정자중3)
05 겨울학기 Master Reading(RGM)수강
In the days when the Olympian gods ruled the earth and the skies above, a king of men roamed the surface of the earth. Hardships and obstacles failed to withstand his determination, and miracles sprang up along his path. His name was Odysseus, and a story was forged in his name. The Odyssey it was called, and with the aid of its creator, it became more than just a book. It became a window of morality engraved in the world of the ancient Greeks, mostly depicted in the trust, love, and chivalry between the Odysseus and his queenly wife.
The trust between the royal couple was second to none. Even though twenty long years spanned the time and the distance between the pair, they both trusted each other enough to be reunited, defying the will of Poseidon, god of the seas. Odysseus performed his act of faith by returning to Penelope and the land of his fathers even though there were many other, truthfully blissful alternatives. Penelope, likewise, trusted in Odysseus’s return, for she resisted the clutches of the suitors and stayed unmarried for two decades. She believed, unlike everyone else, that her husband would return home and free her from the suitors at last.
The elements of the world that separated the couple strengthened their love beyond that a normal life could ever bring. Being apart from each other let Penelope and Odysseus how important the other was in their lives. Even though Odysseus roamed places where wonder ran free like the wind, such as the land of the Lotus eaters, Calypso’s Island and the land of the Phaecians, he couldn’t truly enjoy himself because the wife he loved wasn’t at his side. And as Odysseus pined for her in foreign lands, Penelope wept for Odysseus and his supposed death for the love she bore for him in her heart.
There are many couples that take the other for granted. They never fight for the other’s love, and let the winds of time sweep their relationship away. The king of Ithaca, however, faced the horde of suitors with three warriors at his side to prove to Penelope that he still loved her and that he would do anything to make up for his absence. His queen performed her part, and the time she bought by unraveling the shroud at night is what bought enough time for Odysseus to defeat the suitors and reign beside her again. A fight is not always the best way out. But when it is done for the right reasons, it could be the noblest action one could perform.
A friend of mine once said that sometimes it is easier to move the stars than to make a marriage work. It takes trust, love and chivalry. Penelope and Odysseus had all that, and even more. That’s what allowed them to be reunited after twenty years of separation, defying the will of Poseidon the God of the Seas. Anyone who has half a successful marriage as they do should count themselves very lucky indeed, for then they would possess all the morals of holy matrimony.
스피킹 부문 최우수작
Opening Statement
John ahn
안중현(가원중2)
05 겨울학기 Master Speaking(SEA)수강
Case : NM-MT-2000
Attorneys :
Client : The State
Opponent :
At 7:12AM on June 5, 1999, in Rye New Mexico, al community of 50,000, a bomb detonated at the entrance of the Choice Clinics, an abortion center, killing Dr. Jeanne Sands, a physician who arrived for work. Responsibility for the bombing has not been specified, but public suspicion has focused on Operation Save All Babies, a national anti-abortion organization that has a local chapter in Rye.
Dr. Jeanne Sands had one child, Jordan Sands who graduated from Rye High School with 4.1 cumulative grade point average. His juvenile probation began on 1995 and continuing through 1999.
On September w, 1999, about 12 weeks from after the bombing of the clinic, Operation Save All babies had a protest outside the Choice Clinic. Jordan waited for an hour before firing upon the protesters. He had a semi-automatic gun that was taken from his mother’s closet. Due to the firing, two protesters, local activists named Doris Reed and her grandson were killed and one police officer, Denise Lucero was arrested on the spot.
Jordan admitted that firing at the protesters at the Choice Clinic and was charged with first degree capital murder for the death of Doris Reed, her grandson and Detective Lucero. At the trial, Jordan asserted that he lacked the necessary intent for the first degree murder, but is guilty of second degree murder.
At the sentencing hearing to determine if Jordan should receive the death penalty, the following witness for will testify for the prosecution: Detective Barri/Barry Garcia, Jordan’s juvenile probation officer, Kelly Patterson, and Chris Mitchell, the state’s psychiatric expert. Witness for the defense includes Jordan Sands, the defendant, Pat Stanton, the benefactor of Choice Clinic and a long friend of the Sands family; and, Toby Yasui, Jordans therapist for the past four years.
Your Honor, I believe that Jordan Sands fulfil the requirement for first degree murder. He deliberately shot those poor people and lied to the probation officer to get out of trouble. I shall now start with Detective Garcia on what he had seen when the firing of Jordan sands happened. Detective Garcia was on duty at the Choice Clinic. He and his partner Denise Lucero had been number of times assigned to the Choice Clinic whenever there was a demonstration taking place. Detective Garcia saw that Jordan suddenly pull out a gun started firing. People were dropping all over the place causing absolute mayhem. Just as he turned toward Denise, she went down. After dragging her to the tree, he found out that she was already dead. Detective Garcia then ran out to cuff sands. Detective Garcia states that at the time sand was firing, he was cool as cucumber and pulled on the trigger deliberately. If he was only trying to distract people, he should have fired it into the air not directly at people.
Our second witness, Kelly Patterson is a juvenile probation officer, Jordan’s probation officer too. She had work hard to try and bring Jordan back to normal state, but that wasn’t easy. Because every time Jordan came to her office, all he said was really sorry about what happened. But as you know that was all part of the play. I mean, what kind of person would keep on doing bad thing if they have conscience? Because of this, we can tell that Jordan had never sorry for what he did and he did not think what he was doing was wrong. And as our witness states that he is a total menace. He will stop at nothing to get back at the people he thinks that made him suffer like this.
And our last witness is Chris Mitchell. Chris Mitchell is a psychiatrist, specializing in depressive illness. He states that PTSD or Post Traumatic Stress Disorder occurs when experiencing a traumatic events, such as natural disaster, combat, or physical assault or rape. The stressors that might trigger PTSD must be outside the range of typical human experience. Typical human experience are such things as grieving the loss of a loved one or marital conflict aren’t even consider severe enough to lead to PTSD. PTSD is very rare symptom that only occurs between 1%~5% of the entire American. What sands felt was not PTSD, but feelings for the loss of a mother. It is quite easy to confuse with symptoms of loss of parents are such things as nightmares and headache. Also trouble sleeping and exhibition of anger and hostility. Dr. Mitchell states that the book Jordan got from Dr. Yasui was actually used as a information on PTSD so that he could mimic it he states this because when he went to the prison to talk to Jordan Sands, he was entirely self-focused.
Your Honor, what the witness have seen and stated is true and I do believe that Jordan sands fuflfil the requirement for first degree murder. And I would like to repeat that Jordan showed no signs of PTSD and what eh said to the people were parts of the play he made to get out trouble. Thank you.
문학창작 부문 최우수작
A Short Story
Rebellion
Jeeun Marie Song
송지은(오륜중2)
05 겨울학기 Master Writing(WCW)수강
My little sister visited me at my dorm once a month. She would joke that her purpose was to “make sure you didn’t die of boredomㅡyet,” but the real reason behind her actions was obvious: she’d come to dissuade me from pursuing my religious career.
“C’mon, Michael, studying the Bible”ㅡthe contempt in her voice was unmistakable ㅡ“is just plain boring. I just don’t understand why you’re becoming a minister because of DadㅡI know you’re not doing this because of your devout Christianity. Why don’t you go back to art? Something you really do like...”
I was currently studying for my theology exam, and I was irritated, both by her interruption and the nagging voice in a corner of my brain that told me my sister was actually right. I snapped at her to stop talking like some ancient Greek philosopher. Quit bothering me. She rolled her eyes at the bare white of the dormitory ceiling, pivoted, and left in a huff. I pretended not to notice.
Alyssa was killed in a car accident on the way home that very afternoon.
* * *
Feeling rather numb after a very dismal and depressing funeral, I left my heartbroken parents in the living room and climbed the stairs up to my sister’s room. It felt like the proper thing to do, honoring her memory.
I entered and flicked the lights on. The pale blue ceiling seemed to glow for a split second, its hand painted gold and silver stars glinting. I crossed the room, cautiously perched on the pink-and-white bedspread and looked around. Colorful bottles of mysterious “girl-stuff” and accessories adorned the top of a white chest of drawers. Backpacks and book bags were piled inside a white wicker basket. A violin case leaned against the wardrobe. Several framed photographs were lined on a shelf. My roaming eyes snagged on a particular picture: a photo of my sister and me several years ago at a Career Day school event. I wore a solemn suit and was nervously clutching a Bible; Alyssa had donned a white lab coat, her grin perpetually captured on film.
Gazing at the picture, I was suddenly reminded of how different from each other we always were. I was the first son, loaded with heavy expectations. I was quiet and obedient; following my father’s footsteps, I enrolled in a college of theology, even if I never really had been dedicated to that area. On the other hand, Alyssa, the baby of the family yet the most rebellious of us all, had a totally different future in mind. A constant grinner, she stopped going to church at age thirteen, saying that “she had better things to attend to than the Christian religion.” Consequently, she became the subject of my very religious father’s wrath (he was the local minister) ㅡshe was grounded for months afterwardsㅡand the neighborhood women’s gossip : “Did you hear? The Reverend’s daughterㅡyes, herㅡquit church!” Around the same time, she began buying chemistry sets and biology books with her allowance instead of contributing to the church collection box.
I’ve always been somewhat awed as well as frightened by Alyssa’s daring to outright disobey my parents: I have always found it rather hard not to follow my father’s demands: I meekly gave up dreams of becoming an artist because of my father’s disapproval, much to Alyssa’s frustration. “Just go tell Mom and Dad that you would only be really happy if...oh, nevermind, but you are too good of an artist to waste...” her voice would trail away, hoping for some action that was unlikely to ever happen. Perhaps because the childhood bible stories were actually taking effect, I have always feared disobeying my parents, sometimes at the cost of my “dignity” as an older brotherㅡan older brotherㅡan older brother who had less guts than his little sister. I often felt embarrassed by my own spinelessness.
Debating back and forth and forth with the annoying know-it-all voice in my head, I reasoned that becoming a minister would probably benefit me as an adultㅡat least I would have a steady income. Mom and Dad know what’s best for me, I assured myself, they’ve probably been through it all. But the voice slyly whispered that Alyssa had been killed during her attempt to persuade me ㅡI should be feeling guilty... I quickly pushed that thought from my head, firmly reminding myself that hearing voices is never a good sign of sanity.
A sudden voice at the door brought me back to reality. My mother. Her hollow eyes had purplish blue shadows under them. “Michael dear, could you leave me a few moments alone here?” Her suddenly frail-looking hand reached up and brushed a few stray strands of hair away from her pale face.
I soundlessly got up and left Alyssa’s room. I needed a place to be alone, to think. My feet guided me across the hallway, to the stairs that lead to the attic.
The attic had the musty, shadowy scent of isolated dust. Peering through the shadows, I could make the outline of my old easel. I hadn’t used it since last year. Fingering the wood, I found a fuzzy skin of dust. As my eyes adjusted to the dim sister, filled with paints, pastels, and other art materials. I never opened any of the bottles, let alone used them. They would still be new, I realized sadly. Would I ever get to use them?
I crouched down on the dusty attic floor in front of my easel and sat there for a long time, pondering about Alyssa, myself, and what lay ahead.
* * *
Three years later, I graduated theology school amid my parents; tearful congratulations and the playful catcalls of my friends. The next day I came home to pack. I was moving out, planning to live in an apartment with a friends. It took hours to get everything ready. Mom persisted in giving me embarrassing guerilla-style embraces and kisses. Just as we were loading the car, my mother started tearfully, “My little Mike, all grown up... if only Alyssa were here to say goodbye with us...Mike? Michael?” Mom stood at the front door dumbfounded as I suddenly shot inside, up the stairs, to the attic. I had forgotten something that I knew I needed.
I descended a few moments later, lugging a wooden easel and a heavy black case, both thickly carpeted with dust. Several dust bunnies joined the already littered living room floor as the easel bounced on my shoulder. I swallowed my smirk at the sight of my father, who was waiting next to the car. I started to shove both the easel and the black case, I stumbled slightly, ramming the black leather against the car. The lid sprang open, spitting out squat multicolored bottles of acrylic paint, brushes, and pencils. There was a tense silence as my parents stared at the various art supplies rolling on the black asphalt. Wordlessly I gathered them up, replaced them in the black case, placed it in the over-packed trunk, and closed the lid.
“So,” I spoke to an uncomfortable silence, “I guess I’ll get going.”
My mother stepped forward to give me a final hug. “Take care of yourself, dear. And don’t forget to keep in touch often.”
My father remained still.
I climbed in the car. Polling the windows open, I quietly said to my father, “Good-bye, Dad.”
His face twitched momentarily before opening into a wistful half-smile. “Good luck, Mike.” I started up the car and was slowly pulling out of the driveway when he suddenly blurted out, “Alyssa would be proud of you.”
My face broke into a smile.
Yes, she would.
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2006년 4월 28일 08:47