STUDENTEREKSAMEN ENGELSK A-NIVEAU

STUDENTEREKSAMEN
Vejledende opgavesæt nr. 1
ENGELSK
A-NIVEAU
Xxxxdag den xx. måned åååå
Kl. 09.00 - 14.00
1. delprøve: Kl. 09.00 - 10.00
STX061-ENA1 V
MAJ 2006

Side 1 af 2 sider
Ret fejlene i følgende sætninger og forklar pa dansk dine rettelser.
Brug relevant grammatisk/faglig terminologi.
1. Where is my glasses?
2. I dislike to go by bus, but I cannot afford buying a car.
3. She is visiting her old mother every day.
4. I live in the house which roof is red.
5. The dogs' barked.
B
Hvilke præfixer (forstavelser) skal følgende adjektiver (tillægsord) have for at komme
til at betyde det modsatte. Eksempel: sane - insane.
predictable
loyal
patient
responsible
polite
Nedenstående er et afslag pa en jobansøgning. Sætningerne er nummererede.
Besvar følgende spørgsmål:
1. Beskriv tonen i afslaget (brug eksempler til at underbygge dine iagttagelser).
2. Hvilke sætninger er overflødige? Angiv numrene.
3. Angiv hvilke sætninger i afslaget, der kunne være brugt som hhv. indledning og
afslutning.
Dear Mr. McShandon,
1. Your application for a job with us was received and was looked at carefully,
examining all aspects of your letter and your resume.
2. As of now, we are not hiring anyone except those who are extremely qualified.
3. Although you have rather good grades in your accounting courses, you do not have
the experience we are looking for in candidates for this position.

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4. You should have noted that in our ad in the State, we specifically stated that we
wanted someone with at least five years' experience.
5. Since you have no experience at all, we cannot at this time even consider you for
the job.
6. Thank you for applying.
7. Smith, Smith & Smith Accounting is honored that you would consider us.
8. We are one of the oldest accounting firms in Clearwater, established years ago by
my grandfather, who is still president of the firm.
9. Better luck with your other endeavours in securing a position with a reputable
accounting firm.
10. I am yours most humbly,
Samuel R. Smith, III
Vice-President
Glossary:
resume: oplysninger om tidligere beskæftigelse
accounting: regnskabsføring
position: job
stated specifically: understregede/sagde tydeligt
endeavour: forsøg
reputable: som har et godt ry/velrenommeret
Oversæt følgende tekst til engelsk:
D
Posefolket er mennesker, som i en årrække har levet et helt normalt liv med job og
familie, men som er kommet i krise på grund af forandringer i deres liv. Det kan være en
skilsmisse eller en nærtståendes død. Noget går i stykker for dem, og de isolerer sig
fuldstændig fra omverdenen. De taler stort set ikke med nogen, men går rundt med deres
ejendele i poser og/eller indkøbsvogne. Nogle får pension, men en del lever af at samle
flasker og rode i skraldespande.

STUDENTEREKSAMEN
Vejledende opgavesæt nr. 1
ENGELSK
A-NIVEAU
Xxxxdag den xx. måned åååå
Kl. 09.00 - 14.00
2. delprøve: Kl. 10.00 - 14.00
STX061-ENA2 V
MAJ 2006

Essayopgave
Assignment:
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1. Write an essay (700-900 words) in which you analyse and interpret Yellow. To
put your interpretation of Yellow into perspective, your essay must include a
discussion of at least two of the other items listed below. One of these must be
a text.
2. Give a brief account (200-300 words) of the view of man versus nature as it
appears in the extract from Wordsworth's poem Lines Composed a Few Miles
Above Tintern Abbey and compare it to Yellow.
Texts
1. From Yellow, a short story by Peter Carty, first published in Neonlit, Quartet Books
1999.
2. Prospice, a poem by Robert Browning, 1889, published in The Norton Anthology
of English Literature, W.W. Norton & Company 1974.
3. From 50 years - My Story, an essay by Sir Edmund Hillary, published in National
Geographic, May 2003.
4. What is Reckless Op About?, a quotation from http://recklessop.com/
5. Suicide's Note, 1926, a poem by Langston Hughes, published in Selected Poems of
Langston Hughes, Alfred A. Knopf Inc. 1959.
6. From Lines Composed a Few Miles Above Tintern Abbey, a poem by William
Wordsworth, 1798, published in The Norton Anthology of English Literature, W.W.
Norton & Company 1974.
Picture
Caspar David Friedrich, The Sea of Ice, an oil painting from c 1823/24, in Caspar David
Friedrich and Romantic Painting, Terrail 1994.

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TEXT1
Peter Carty
Yellow
"Welcome to Egypt! Welcome to Egypt!"
A deluge of Egyptian porters was trying to wrench Jon's bags away, angling for
baksheesh. He shook hands with each one and handed out crumpled currency. Then he
locked the door of his room against them, and tucked into his duty-free.
5 The next day he walked along the promenade, impervious to the blue plain of the Red
Sea. He reported to the diving school, a new construction of glass, marble and concrete.
It contained a deep training pool with an elaborate tiled frieze of a scuba diver on its
bottom. Jon's instructor was an Italian called Berto who wore wrap-around sunglasses
which remained motionless when he spoke. He had a high-pitched yipping laugh.
10 Berto gave Jon a form to sign which indemnified the school from damages in the
event of his death or injury and certified that he did not suffer from a long list of
medical conditions. What the fuck was he getting himself into this time? Jon worked his
way down the boxes, inserting "No" in each one. He was overweight but in good
physical condition for someone pushing forty, a second-string writer on a London
15 listings magazine.
There was only one other student in Berto's group, a retired brewer called Brian. Jon
rapidly established that beyond a certain familiarity with various alcoholic beverages the
amount he had in common with Brian was nil, all conversational overtures led nowhere.
But he envied Brian his calm, the methodical way he assembled and clambered into the
20 gear.
As Berto lectured them on each item's function, Jon tried to concentrate. It was very
important not to fuck up - a simple error could be disastrous. He tried to decide what
the most crucial items of information were. This was all hard work. Was there any dutyfree
left in his room? Only another couple of hours to go, and he'd have a nice full glass
25 in one hand and the TV remote in the other.
Berto's voice broke into his reverie. He was impressing on them the importance of
continuous breathing underwater.
"At ten metres down you are breathing in air under a lot of pressure, double surface
pressure. If you hold your breath when you come up, the air can expand too much for
-« your lungs to contain it."
Jon listened with horror. So you were loaded down with all this ironmongery - there
was even a belt with metal weights on it - and if there was an accident you were meant
to take deep breaths as you lunged for the surface?

Berto did not seem to register his disquiet, and started detailing the exercises they
35 would go through in the training pool.
"One of the first things we'll do is clear the mask. To do this you tilt your head up
and blow out through your nose."
[...]
Jon dragged air in, pushed the bottom of the mask out, and rammed it back as water
flooded in. He held on to the top of the mask and tilted his bead back, blowing out. His
40 nose filled. Water was spurting down into his lungs and it was unendurable, he was
drowning. He shot up and erupted from the surface, gasping. Berto made him go
through it a second time, with the same result. Eventually Jon got the hang of it: it
seemed that each time his head was right back he'd breathed in slightly through his nose.
Back on the surface Berto addressed him.
45 "You are nervous under the water?"
"And above the water."
"Yip yip, yip, yip."
Jon slunk off back to the hotel, avoiding Berto's and Brian's gaze, sliding into the
duty-free shop for another bottle of gin before locking himself in his room. The editor
50 had forced him to come out here on this freebie learn-to-scuba-dive trip. The travel and
sports editors had instantly refused and no one else would do it (it meant no lunching in
Soho for almost a week), but the tour operator was a big advertiser with the magazine.
Jon hated anything active or sporty, yet here he was. They hadn't paid for his girlfriend
to come, either. Mind you, the way things were going that was probably a plus. The
55 silences between them had multiplied, then lengthened into an empty continuum.
He poured more gin, but no matter how much he swallowed it was never enough.
Next morning he retched down the lavatory, skipped the buffet in the hotel restaurant.
He spoke aloud to himself.
"The condemned man didn't eat a hearty breakfast."
6o He forced himself to set off for the diving school and tried to ignore an inner voice.
"You're yellow, yellow, yellow, yellow."
He walked as slowly as he dared, but arrived almost immediately. They'd completed
all the training-pool exercises, so today it was time to take the boat out into the bay for a
practice dive in the sea. [...] Berto briefed them before the dive.
65 "We're only going down ten metres the first time."
Full fathom five.
"Just before ascending I want you, Brian, to give Jon your spare mouthpiece to
breathe from. Jon, be ready to take out your mouth-piece, insert Brian's spare and come
up to the surface with him."
TO Take out the air supply that far down and fuck about with another one? He couldn't
do it, but he would have to. [...]
Jon was not all right. He'd heard that drowning was a quick death: your lungs filled
and that was more or less it, bit of thrashing about, not a bad way to go. But he sucked
and sucked on the mouthpiece, trying to get as much air as possible into his lungs. The

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75 valves in the equipment hissed and bubbles shot out and detonated. He jolted his arms
and legs about, though he knew that if he didn't relax them he'd get cramp and drown -
then again, if he let them go free he'd sink anyway.
They were over the reef. A large ray ghosted across, a stealth bomber winging its way
back into the depths. To one side was the deep, a soft blue that went down for ever, for
80 more than nine hundred metres to form one side of a gigantic trench, a gargantuan
continuation of the African rift valley. Jon tried not to look sideways, but his head turned
despite him.
You could lose yourself in that, swallowed up and gone for ever, a speck vanishing in
the blue without sound or ripple. Buddhists talked of opening yourself up to emptiness -
85 well, here it was next to him, but he didn't want to commune with it, he wanted to keep
it as far away as possible.
The trio stopped. Jon's heart hammered away, trying not to sink any further. Berto
was making signals. It was time for Jon to take his air supply out and insert Brian's
spare mouthpiece. Fuck.
90 Jon saw Brian hold the mouthpiece out in slow motion. He would have to go through
with this. In a blur he tore his air supply out, crammed in the new one, blew the excess
water out and sucked desperately.
No air. Water, solid water, unbelievable. Gel flowing in and solidifying, the others
hovering in supplication. Motionless. Another desperate try, and there was nothing other
than water in his world. He was drowning, drowning for ever. Time was away and
somewhere else.
He exploded upwards. The frothing ceiling was a long way away and he wasn't going
to make it.
Berto grabbed him and thrust in a mouthpiece just before Jon broke the surface,
100 gasping for life, clawing in air. Brian had handed him the mouthpiece upside down. It
was useless the wrong way up. None of them had noticed in time. Back on land Jon
bought Berto a beer. Berto took a sip and angled his shades towards Jon.
"You know, you are very close to your panic level underwater."
"Lack of moral fibre, I'm afraid."
"Yip, yip, yip,YEEP."
He looked at Berto's shades. At first there was nothing and then he saw himself
staring, wide-eyed. On the walk back the voice taunted him
"Yellow, yellow, yellow. Yellow as the desert sand."
The next day they followed the same routine, lugging the air cylinders and other kit
110 on to the boat before casting off. Jon looked up from the blue water, past the buildings
on the shoreline to the desert mountains. It wasn't a bad sight, a good vista for his last
day on earth.
As he stepped out into the sea Jon cursed himself for going through all this again.
Underwater he stuck close to Berto, though he didn't see how Berto would be able to
save him if he had a cardiac arrest or asthma attack Why did he have to torture himself?

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At least if he knew he was definitely going to drown he could resign himself, remove
some of this stress, this tearing anxiety. After all, everyone died in the end. What
difference did it make when you went?
[...]
The magazine would let him go soon. His writing would dwindle, disappear down to
a dot and vanish, his girlfriend would have left long before and he'd cast off from the
last of his friends and relatives. Jon looked down at the reef, a cliff dropping away into
soft darkness. An immensity of nothingness, a massive absence that was a presence.
Unfathomable. As fish died, the deep had absorbed them for millions of years, more
lately divers had merged with it, thrashing Action Man dolls that became smaller and
smaller and then were nothing, their nothingness part of an immeasurable emptiness, as
if they had never been. The deep was here whether he was swimming over it or not. It
had been here waiting while he slept, sodden, in his hotel room.
He thought of his fear and became angry. Well, this would show them he wasn't
yellow. Then he was calm again and looked back up at himself from below. He dropped
behind the others, swung out behind an outcrop of coral, pulled out the mouthpiece and
drank.

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TEXT 2
1 Prospice, Latin: "look ahead".
Robert Browning
Prospice 1
Fear death? - to feel the fog in my throat,
The mist in my face,
When the snows begin, and the blasts denote
I am nearing the place,
5 The power of the night, the press of the storm,
The post of the foe;
Where he stands, the Arch Fear in a visible form,
Yet the strong man must go:
For the journey is done and the summit attained,
10 And the barriers fall,
Though a battle's to fight ere the guerdon be gained,
The reward of it all.
I was ever a fighter, so - one fight more,
The best and the last!
15 I would hate that death bandaged my eyes, and forbore,
And bade me creep past.
No! let me taste the whole of it, fare like my peers
The heroes of old,
Bear the brunt, in a minute pay glad life's arrears
20 Of pain, darkness and cold.
For sudden the worst turns the best to the brave,
The black minute's at end,
And the elements' rage, the fiend-voices that rave,
Shall dwindle, shall blend,
25 Shall change, shall become first a peace out of pain,
Then a light, then thy breast,
O thou soul of my soul! I shall clasp thee again,
And with God be the rest!

TEXT 3
Sir Edmund Hillary
50 Years - My Story
Side 7 af 11 sider
The New Zealand mountaineer Edmund Hillary and his Sherpa guide Tenzing Norgay were the first humans to reach
Earth's highest point: the summit of Mount Everest in the Himalayas on May 29, 1953. Hillary was knighted for his
feat and in later years led expeditions to the South Pole and to the source of the Yangtze River. He also committed
himself to humanitarian work among the Sherpas through his Himalayan Trust.
In the following excerpt from an article in National Geographic Edmund Hillary recalls 50 years on top of the world.
Ever since the morning of May 29, 1953, when Tenzing Norgay and I became the first
climbers to step onto the summit of Mount Everest, I've been called a great adventurer.
The truth is, I'm just a rough old New Zealander who has enjoyed many challenges in
his life. In fact, as I look back after 50 years, getting to the top of Everest seems less
5 important, in many ways, than other steps I've taken along the way - steps to improve
the lives of my Sherpa friends in Nepal and to protect the culture and beauty of the
Himalaya.
Not that I wasn't excited to reach the top of the world. I remember when Tenzing and
I faced the icy, narrow final ridge to the summit. Some on our team had predicted the
10 ridge would be impossible to climb, but it didn't look so bad to us. After attaching fresh
oxygen bottles to our masks, we set off. I led the way, hacking a line of steps with my
ice axe. After about an hour we came to a 40-foot-high rock buttress barring our path -
quite a problem at nearly 29,000 feet. An ice cornice was overhanging the rock on the
right with a long crack inside it. Beneath the cornice the mountain fell away at least
15 10,000 feet to the Kangshung Glacier. Would the cornice hold if I tried to go up? There
was only one way to find out.
Jamming my crampons into the ice behind me, I somehow wriggled my way to the
top of the crack, using every handhold I could find. For the first time I felt confident
that we were going to make it all the way. To the right I saw a rounded snow dome and
20 kept cutting steps upward. In less than an hour I reached the crest of the ridge, with nothing
but space in every direction. Tenzing joined me, and to our great delight and relief
we stood on top of Mount Everest.
[...]
So over the years I've done lots of expeditions and projects in remote parts of the
world - some big ones and many small ones. I've stood at both the North and South
25 poles as well as on the world's highest peak. When I look back over my life, though, I
have little doubt that the most worthwhile things I have done have not been getting to
the summits of great mountains or to the extremes of the earth. My most important
projects have been the building and maintaining of schools and medical clinics for my
dear friends in the Himalaya and helping restore their beautiful monasteries too.

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TEXT 4
What Is Reckless Op About?
Reckless Op is about challenging yourself to rise above the "standard" of life and being
more, achieving more and accomplishing more. It is about pushing yourself beyond
preconceived limits. It is about asking "Can it be done", and then DOING IT!
Reckless Op is about riding 16" tall motorcycles [...] Reckless Op is about laying it
5 all on the line for the thrill of the challenge. It is about sitting on the tank of a motorcycle,
doing a wheelie at 80 mph, it is about jumping from a plane 15,000 feet in the air,
it is about hitting a whip ramp at 40 mph and flying 50 feet in the air and letting go of
your bike! [...]
For those of you who have never experienced pushing yourself beyond what anyone
10 thought possible, you will never understand this. You are missing out. For those of you
who LIVE your life to the fullest and constantly push yourself, you know exactly what
we are talking about.
It is an attitude towards life that too few ever experience. Reckless Op is not about
danger - it is about a love of life.
Reckless Op is about expecting the best from yourself. It is about setting goals,
15 reaching those goals, and setting more goals. It is about pushing yourself, your skills,
your talents, your character and your will to the limit.

TEXT 5
TEXT 6
Langston Hughes
Suicide's Note
The calm,
Cool face of the river
Asked me for a kiss.
William Wordsworth
Lines Composed a Few Miles Above Tintern Abbey
[...] For I have learned
To look on nature, not as in the hour
Of thoughtless youth; but hearing oftentimes
The still sad music of humanity,
Nor harsh nor grating, though of ample power
To chasten and subdue. And I have felt
A presence that disturbs me with the joy
Of elevated thoughts: a sense sublime
Of something far more deeply interfused,
Whose dwelling is the light of setting suns,
And the round ocean and the living air,
And the blue sky, and in the mind of man:
A motion and a spirit, that impels
All thinking things, all objects of all thought,
And rolls through all things.
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Side l0 af 11 sider
PICTURE
Caspar David Friedrich, The Sea of Ice, an oil painting, c 1823/24.
A source of inspiration for the painting was the polar expedition mounted by William Edward Parry from 1819 to 1820 in search of
the North-west Passage. The picture contains an echo of the episode in Friedrich's childhood when his young brother fell through the
ice and drowned, a tragedy partly precipitated by Friedrich himself.

Anvendt materiale (til brug for Copy-Dan)
Peter Carty, Yellow
Neonlit, Quartet Books, 1999.
Robert Browning, Prospice
The Norton Anthology of English Literature
W.W. Norton & Company, 1974.
Sir Edmund Hillary, 50years - My Story
National Geographic, May 2003.
What is Reckless Op About?
A quotation from http://recklessop.com/
Langston Hughes, Suicide's Note
Selected Poems of Langston Hughes
Alfred A. Knopf, Inc. 1959.
William Wordsworth, Lines Composed a Few Miles Above Tintern Abbey
The Norton Anthology of English Literature
W.W. Norton & Company, 1974.
Caspar David Friedrich, The Sea of Ice, an oil painting, c 1823/24
Caspar David Friedrich and Romantic Painting, Terrail, 1994.
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