Making a Paper Proposal

Tim's Free English Lesson Plans


This is a lesson plan designed to introduce students to the proposal writing task featured in the CAE writing paper. Below are links to the prezi, the handout, the task and a model answer.

Proposal Task – referred to in the prezi as page 189


Proposal Handout

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Flash Fiction… Or maybe just a piece of it…

Arden Ruth


The drive, excruciatingly slower than usual, continues to set me on edge. I weave the car between the abandoned vehicles on the highway as we all stare out into the woods. It’s daylight. We don’t have to worry about them but you can’t trust other humans nowadays either. Some will kill you over a bag of chips. There are no laws in this new world.

It takes three hours to get to the run-down Kroger on the edge of town. We all know how important this is. If we don’t find supplies soon, we’ll be starving in just a few weeks. Hunting has become more difficult. The deer and rabbit population has dwindled down to nothing. The idea of moving on to a new town is a difficult one to stomach. We’ve lost so many already. A move could mean death to us all.

I turn in my seat to stare at…

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Paul’s Short Story

Here’s my attempt at a short story – hope it’s not too scary!

A Devilish Death
Paul Rafferty

Copyright 2014

Creaking his way along the dusty floorboards, Charlie, trembling with fear gasped as
the axe fell downward just a few feet from his piercing gaze. Embedded upon the
bloodied edge was none other than Gus Langer, the town’s leading neurologist. His
usual pink head and rosy cheeks no longer recognisable as they now resembled a river
of crimson wine.
The skull itself was virtually severed into two equal parts. His lower
torso had been stripped bare of flesh as if ravaged by a swarm of tropical piranhas on
a day trip to Florida’s east coast.

The body crashing to the floor created even more lung filling dust, causing Charlie to
have an uncontrollable coughing fit and finally retching violently, vomited upon the
lifeless naked corpse.
It was at that moment that he heard it, ‘the voice’, a loud
grumbling sound not unlike the announcer at Paddington train station, but this was no
passenger terminus – this was the ‘big house’ of Trots Gray.

“Who are you?” Cried Charlie, picking up the discarded weapon in a vain attempt to
protect himself.

Fortune is said to favour the brave, only on this occasion Charlie was clearly out of
his depth. The blackened spike appeared just once, unlike the grey foggy images ever
present in the ‘big house’.
Charlie felt a shiver down his spine as the “whoosh” of the crimson implement fell in the centre of the of the blonde-haired woman’s decapitated fragile frame.

A single drop of sweat splashed from Charlie’s forehead, landing amidst the cobwebs
and wooden strips which supported the leather-strapped slippers protecting the hairy
exterior of his milky white flesh.
Charlie struggled to control his emotions, his face
reddened by the constant belching and throwing up at the sight of human entrails, the
lump in his throat almost choking him as he screamed aloud.

“‘Who the hell are you?”


Charlie’s limbs became stiff and rigid as a feeling of great pain slowly began to take
hold over his nervous system. All that he could remember was the buzzing of
electricity and the tingling sensation that numbed his entire being. Looking upward
came the sight that Charlie had always feared – the room slowly filling with rabid

Again Charlie cried!

“Oh my God… Dracula, it’s you!”

The ghostly image emerged swiftly along the filth strewn flooring making its way
towards the pathetic shape of Charles Conroy. With an assumption of anger, Charlie
acted like lightening and quickly grabbed the spike, spinning around as he did so, only
to discover that the white fanged demon had vanished.

“Where are you!” Demanded Charlie.

Turning around, Charlie glanced across the room to where the rumbling sound was
now evident along with the acrid aromatic odour of burning human flesh. A six foot
priest wearing long black robes began laughing aloud:

“Ha, ha, ha. Now it’s your turn!”

“Get away from me or I swear I’ll kill you!” Ranted Conroy.

“Oh not again!” Came the devil’s response.

At that moment a bat swooped down low and tore a small piece of bloodied skin from
Charlie’s left ear.

“Arrgh! Get away! Get away!

The sound of pain echoed the chamber in which Charlie
had now found himself.

Charlie flung the rusty weapon at the low flying vulture as it slowly began to take the
form of a female vampire. Her hair short and fair, rather than the stereotypical long
and dark of fabled legend.
The pure white naked temptress invited Conroy to her side by offering her hand, her silky robe having already been discarded to the scurrying rats that plagued the ground beneath her. A mesmerised Charles ventured closer and closer – then it happened…

The officer speaking in a low voice questioned his colleague.

“Do you think he did it himself?”

“Well, Dr Langer did perform the operation on his girlfriend.” Answered the fellow

“She died, didn’t she?”

“Maybe Langer killed her because of the affair.”

“What do you mean?” Questioned the guard.

“Well, if she was going to tell Charlie, then the neurologist would have been exposed
to the truth.”

“What is the truth?” Enquired the jailer.

“Who knows, who knows?”

The sound of the 09:27 from Paddington entered the mind of Charles Conroy. He
began bellowing times and destinations again and again like a depraved lunatic.

“9:27 to Trots Gray has just left Paddinglon. All devils leave the big house now!”
“I didn’t kill her!”
“10:15 to Florida come and get me!”
“I am not the one!” “’5:32 to Margate – ten minutes late.”
“Leave me alone!”
“Get away from me!” Charlie’s rarnblings becoming louder and louder with every foaming chant.

The guard placed the leather strap tightly around Conroy’s right arm and then the left.
Charlie’s head jerked sharply back with a resonating crunch that seemed to reflect
from wall to wall. His neck suffered a clean break as the first wave of three 10,000
volts entered his huge mass of blood and bone.

Charlie Conroy was executed at 06:00 on Sunday morning.

The guard smiled … revealing two large white fangs.


Folk Tales 9.


Mary Nickelpot

Folklore story from Slovenia Translated in English by Osnova šola Pod goro, Slovenske Konjice ,Slovenia

Mary Nickelpot was sweeping the house when she found a nickel in the rubbish. She took it and bought a little pot. It was freezing outside and there was hoarfrost. She was very tired and fell asleep. But then a strong knocking on her little house’s door woke her up. “Who is it?” she asked. “It’s me, the fox. Oh, Mary Nickelpot. I beg you – let me come in. Bora is blowing and it’s freezing. I’ll freeze to death if you don’t let me in,” she whined. Mary Nickelpot hesitated and asked the fox, “If you are good at something, I’ll let you in, otherwise no!” “I’m a dressmaker,” answered the fox. Mary Nickelpot let her came inside the little pot. They lay down and fell asleep. But soon after they had…

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Thoughts of English

Bobbie Jimmy C Eula Jr.
English Language Lecturer.
Al Jazeera International Academy.
Currently assigned to a project at:
Al Baha University in Saudi Arabia.

From CNN to COMMunity
Sem. Ives Eula
This essay was an entry in the seminary’s annual English Month celebration, ’11-’12.

I remember when I was a lad, one of my favorites to sit on were cartoons. At that age, they were something to die for. But on the other side of it, there was also another one which I also enjoyed watching at. Believe it or not, it was watching CNN or BBC World. If cartoons entertained my juvenile and innocent thoughts, anchors talking or people being interviewed on BBC World or CNN were catching up my interest on the way they speak – literally. I would even imitate the way they pronounce the words, the way they mumble and express their thoughts. This scenario was just a matter of imitation and to a degree entertainment already for me…not minding what they were actually saying, it was not a big deal for me yet.
How I wish I had spontaneity the way anchors and hosts on television do (CNN, BBC or Ian Wright in Globe Trekker). The dawn of this idea was the start of my love for language, especially English. At a young age, I was exposed to different pictures of communication or even just simple dialogue. My mom didn’t have much time for me at home so as to fuel up more such desire. There was my father who ushered me into it. Then lo and behold, modesty aside, I was enrolled at Angelicum School in our place, a prestigious-English-speaking kindergarten-school. This was a surprise for me. From here, I was thankful of the opportunity that it gave me. I wasn’t estranged from the common tongue that there was, at least I already had a dose of confidence as a lad like the rest.
Upon reaching grade school, there was an adjustment. All were encouraged to have English as the main tongue of all, but it was just a policy left on the walls. Nevertheless, this didn’t stop me from aiming the best in English. In fact, there had been academic posts where in English as medium was a top priority. I was also involved in declamation and essay contests. Even my English teacher then had a foresight that I would be like some famous local news anchors in my country (with all the applause from my close friends, modesty aside)! I just smiled, having something else in thought in lieu of a news anchor. But it was elating, knowing that you had such potential. Until I reached high school, those words were still lingering around. And thus explains why I joined more activities stringed to English Communications apart from my English subject, whose teacher was totally a professor who’d tie you up if you have no knowledge about literature!
Yet among all these, I realized that English itself is not just a medium; per se is already a community. For how can one speak without any set of letter, words – ideas in one’s mind? One song even affirms it: ‘If there were no words, no way to speak…’ On the contrary, if one does, he summons already others to be part of a community of dialogue. Dynamism in English as both community and dialogue entails versatility, vivacity and adaptability as characterized by the nature of communication.
So to speak, this simple journey of my beloved English has fostered in me the passion to communicate – and I am blessed sharing such ‘gift and passion’ to those who wish to espouse it in their lives. What was said to be mere mumbling and entertainment of words has now flourished into something of a wider purpose, reason and expression. Moreover, what made it more dynamic was of the fact that it made me both welcome and welcoming to any community to which I was and am involved. If there is such thing as dynamism with language, it first occurred in me, and later on it overflowed to others, cascaded to the community, or perhaps to a team….

Bobbie Jimmy C Eula Jr.