1

2

Deutsch

3

EINE WEITERE KLEINE GESCHICHTE

Hier ruhe ich aus. Jetzt bleibt mein Körper kalt und regungslos. Es gibt keinen Schein bei meinen Augen,

das Blut läuft nicht mehr durch meinen Adern, mein Mund ist geschlossen und nun kann ich nicht aus voller

Kehle schreien, wie ich mich fühle und wie groβ meine Angst ist.

Trotzdem bin ich schon nicht allein, denn meine gute Freunde Franz Fischer und Georg Kickebusch sind

gleich heute bis hier gebracht worden. Als ich ihre Anwesenheit bemerkt habe, bin ich sehr traurig geworden,

weil wir die letzte lebendige Soldaten aus unserem Dorf waren.

Überhaupt erinne ich mich an Franz, mein beste Freund und Kumpan auf der ganzen Welt, der von mir

immer näher als meine Brüder und Schwestern bliebt, der mich am besten gekannt und begreifen hat. Er war

nur drei Monate älter als ich, und deshalb waren wir immer zusammen, auf den Straβen und Gassen laufen,

über den Pfützen springen und lachen. Bis zum Kuhstall gingen wir oft, um die Kühe melken zu versuchen, vor

allem immer wen der schreckliche Besitzer, Herr Bullow, zu Hause noch nicht war. In der Schule saβen wir auch

immer nebeneinander und die Lehrern konnten nie wissen, warum wir die gleiche gute Noten bekamen, obwohl

Franz ziemlich kluger als ich war...Eigentlich fühlte ich mich sehr stolz, sein Freund zu sein.

Rechts von mir ist Georg, den wir nur ab und zu trafen, weil er auf einem weiteren Bauernhof wohnte.

Obwohl er junger als uns war, möchte er immer lieber mit den Mädchen die ganze Zeit auf der Wiese

verbringen. Nach dem Treffen mit ihnen, gingen Franz und ich neugierig zu ihm, damit er uns alles, das er mit

den junge Frauen machte, erzählen konnte. Damals vertrauten wir auf seine tolle und lustige Geschichte, später

wussten wir aber, dass diese schöne Erzählungen nicht wahr waren, sondern nur groβe und dumme Lügen.

Trotz unserer unterschiede, wurde nicht das Wort ,,streiten“ in unserem Wortschatz gefunden.

Unsere Jugendzeit wurde aber plötzlich abgebrochen, so schnell wie der Krieg unsere Häuser erreichte. Sie

sagten uns, dass wir die Heimat verteidigen sollten. Da verstanden wir nichts, aber für uns war es zu spät. Ein

Anschlag, nur ein zwingender Anschlag auf die Wände war nöttig, unsere Träumen zu rauben, unsere kurze

Leben in den Müll als schmutziges Papier zu werfen, unsere Zukunft ohne Erbarmen auszuleeren. Wir konnten

auch nicht den süßen Geschmack der echten Liebe genießen. Keine warmen Küsse, keine Umarmungen.

Wir wurden sofort und fast ohne Bildung gegen unbekannte Feinde geworfen, und da mussten wir hart und

blindings kämpfen, um in dieser Hölle überleben zu können. Während dieser langen und furchtbaren Zeit, war

ich kein Mann, nur ein wandelnder Schatten. Ich konnte nichts denken, nur meine Waffe halten und

abschießen. Da blieben nur die Guten und die Bösen, die Lebengigen und die Toten, nichts mehr.

Ich habe zu viele Menschen getötet, es gab aber keinen Grund dazu. Das weiβ ich, und herzlich bereue ich

alle, aber man kann nicht umkehrer. Endlich wurde ich auch am einem sonnigen Morgen umgebracht, so leicht

wie ein Blat vom Wind getragen wird. Es gab keine Schmerzen mehr, keinen Kummer.

Jetzt liegt meine Leiche hier, im Friedhof. Still. Ich hieße Karl Schmidt. Wird jemand einmal an mich erinern?

KARL SCHMIDT 1925-1943 FRANZ FISCHER 1924-1943 GEORG KICKEBUSCH 1925-1944

MATROSE SS-STURMANN FLIEGER

SANTIAGO GARCIA SANCHEZ DEUTSCHSPRACHE-B 1.1

4

Unserer EOI

JUDITH MEDINA ALEMÁN-DEUTSCH A1 GRUPO 101

5

Euskara

6

NIRE LAGUN MAITEA

Portugaleten, 2013ko martxoaren 28an. Kaixo laztana,1

Zergatik idazten ari naiz gutun hau??, Maite zaitudalako eta zugatik sentitzen dudana erakutsi nahi dizudalako. Orain dela 3 urte elakarrekin gaude, hasieratik elkar aditu genuen zaletasunak konpartitzen ditugulako, komunikazio handia daukagulako; adibidez arazo bat agertzen bada momentu horretan konpontzen saiatzen gara eta lasaia oheratu ahal izaten dugu. Gure harremanaren beste gauza gustatzen zait, urtero bidaia bat egitea.Biok hondartza gustuko dugu, horregatik uharte batzuk aukeratzen ditugu deskonektatzeko. Beti oso ondo pasatzen dugu eta horrek egiten du gure harremana indartzea. Diru asko ez daukagunez geroezin izaten ditugu beste bidaiarik egin urtean zehar.

Badakit gauza batzuei uko egiten, elkarrekin gehiago egoteko, baina bakoitzak bere esparrua badauka ohituran ez erortzeko.

Zurekin liluratuta nago ia-ia egun guztietan gauzak politak esaten dizkidazulako. Loreak oparitzen dizkidazunean zoriontsuagoa izaten naiz, badakizulako liluratzen. Guztiaz hitz egin dezakegu, nahiz eta normalean zuk entzun asko hitz egiten dudalako...kar,kar!!

Ez dakit zer gehiago esan...asko maite zaitut eta ez zaitut galdu nahi, horregatik zure sentimenduak nigatik jakin beharko ditut pauso bat aurrerantz emateko.

Gutun hau irakurtzerakoan baliteke urrun egotea lanagatik.Itzultzean galdera bat erantzutea gustatuko litzaidake, "nirekin ezkondu nahiko duzu?", espero dut baietz esatea.

Besarkada handi bat eta musu asko maitea,

Elena Bueso Higuero Grupo 404 - EUSKERA

7

8

9

Français

10

TRÈS TÔP

En vacances dans un petit village sur le pyrène français, nous

nous sommes dirigés pour faire de la randonnée. Entourés par l’hauteur

de ses montagnes, la beauté du paysage nous a envahis.

Depuis du temps de marche par le lieu, nous avons senti la fatigue et la

faim. Alors nous nous sommes dirigés au restaurant le plus proche et je

me suis adressé au serveur pour lui demander si c’était possible de

manger quelque chose. Après avoir parlé avec se chef:

-No, ce n'est pas possible- il m'a répondu.- Il est trop tôt. J'ai regardé vers l'intérieur un peu étonné. Il est trois heures du après

midi et toutes les tables sont vides.

- C’est possible que tu te sois trompée, mes amis m'ont commenté.

Peut-être que ton français ne soit pas trop bon, et qu’il ait sûrement

voulu dire le contraire.

- No je suis sure que j’ai bien compris. J’ai tourné et me suis dirigé de nouveau au garçon sympa:

-Mais il n’y a déjà personne.

-No, je bien de vous dire que c’est tôt encore. Nous ne ouvrons pas

jusqu’à cinq heures. En ce moment-là j’ai compris qu’il parlait du dîner et nous du

déjeuner

ELENA FERNANDEZ FRANÇAIS- 502

11

English

12

Colorines

Martin pushed the door carefully and tiptoed through the bedroom to open the window quietly. The summer sunlight that came in allowed him to see the child. She was gorgeous: the closed eyelids concealed eyes he knew were bright blue and the fair hair, weaved in long plaits, surrounded a perfect face, with a little nose in the middle, pale cheeks, some freckles at random… The man left his reverie apart, put a huge wooden cage on the bedside table and went out of the room letting the door ajar to keep watch on the little girl. While his daughter woke up, Martin went through the last weeks: It had been a hard time. Mary was nine and she had been laying in bed without getting out of the house since June, ill but, thank God, without pain. Doctors said that things were improving and that she would be able to go to school, like any other child, in September. Let´s hope.. And mum…Just yesterday Mary had suggested, sweetly, as she always did, how wonderful it would be to have a pet, “somebody” to share the long hours of the days. Suddenly, the bird in the cage thrilled. Cheerfully, melodiously… still watching the girl. Mary stirred, at first almost imperceptibly, then opened her eyes, sat up and stared at the goldfinch. There was not surprise in her face, only a broad smile. It seemed as if it was an old friend with whom you have shared happy moments and, of course, he is allowed to enter your house without the need of an invitation. _ Hello, Colorines, I love you. The bird swelled its feathers, flattened, turned the head right, left and afterwards continued singing while watching its friend. A long magic moment passed and then, without breaking the spell, in a sweet movement like one taken from a fairy tale, Mary opened the tiny door. Colorines went quiet- surprised perhaps-, jumped senselessly from a place of the cage to another to finish perched at the bottom bar of the little door and from there to the window sill. At last, very slowly, it opened the wings and flew to the sun. Strangely, it turned the neck as if to say goodbye. The last image it saw was the face of the girl, smiling, and a tear that run down the father´s face.

Clemente Artigue Barredo.-

English B 1 1.- 302

13

A silent invasion

When Omar finished his job around six in the evening, the daylight had gone. He took his bag, and went down slowly to the underground.

After a couple of minutes in the platform, looking stare to the rails, the tube arrived and he entered on the wagon.

He took a seat. Nobody was speaking, he only could hear the metallic noise of the metro, but after he raised his head, noticed that everybody had a little light stick, and they were touching their little stuff very concentrated.

Behind the strangers people, was Josephine, a workmate. He called her loudly several times, but nor she, neither anybody looked at Omar.

He stopped in the next station near his home, and he didn't believe the situation, people were in the platform with their curious light stick, and the tube workers too.

He gave up the station towards the street, there, a teenager was stealing a light stick to old woman, he felt astonished, it was a collective madness. Omer hold his bag strongly and ran across the street to go home.

His family would be waiting for having a dinner or, no! They coud had taken part of the insanity! He thought while he was opening the door.

He was afraid, turned toward the stairs, sat down, and took out of his pocket a light stick.

By Victor Causo Dieguez.

English B2.

Group 506 or 508.

14

MY GRANDPARENTS´ LIFE

My grandmother´s name is Olaya, she´s 90 and she´s a wise woman. She´s tall, fat and white-haired. She´s old but she understands very well young people. She was born in a small village of Ourense. She went to school in the village and after this she went to study to Ourense. She studied nursing and she worked in different places. She got married to José. He was a doctor and with him she learned midwifery. Her husband died young and they didn´t have children. My grandmother got back to her village and there she worked as a midwife until nowadays because, although she is retired, her experience is very useful for another people. My grandfather´s name is Carlos, he´s 90 too and he´s an admirable person. He´s short, thin and bald. Every time he has good mood. He was born in Granada and he went to school until he was 12 years old. He never studied at university but it wasn´t necessary to be a wise man. When he was 12 years old he started to work with his uncle in the circus. It was a family circus. His uncle was a trapeze artist and my grandfather was a clown, and he is still and amazing clown. He travelled around Europe, he lived in a lot of places, he met a lot of people and he learned four languages. He got married to Isabel. She was a teacher, the teacher of the circus. They didn´t have children but they adopted four children. They always said that they loved all children of the world. When my grandfather was widower, after working for years as a clown, he decided to live in Madrid, where he met Olaya. Now they live in Ourense. My grandparents aren´t my real grandparents but they are a good example for me. I am very lucky because I can speak with them and I love learning from their exciting life.

Pilar Córdoba English 1A1

15

The floor was covered of blood

The floor was covered of blood from the victim that was hanging on a hook. The killer went to a little table full of different types of knives and passed his hand over all of them ... Finally he chose the biggest and suddenly stuck it. The entrails started to exit … This is only a shocking way to start this story but I have to confess that all I have said was true and it happened in this school. The older people can remember that it was a slaughterhouse (I had to see it in wordreference) , that is, a place where the animals are killed or slaughtered. A smart reader will know quickly who the murderer is and who the victim. But the story I want to write didn’t happen then. The past century was in his late eighties. The slaughterhouse was closed by the neighbourhood´s complaints due to the bad smell. The dust took the place of the blood. There was to do something with this building just in the centre of the town. The festivity days were coming and the commission needed some place for the theatre events because the old municipal theatre had been closed for many years. It can be a good opportunity for a lot of people. First for the public that could see plays while the new theatre was being built. Second for the slaughterhouse because it should be a new change to forget the rats and the junkies. And finally for the actors and companies because they should have work. The last ones weren’t so happy when they watched what kind of stage they have to play at. We have tried to clean as well as we knew but the place needed more than this. However, the actors have a refrain: The show must go on. And when this is not enough, they have another one: Money is money. I can´t say that the shows had an enormous success. We knew it. But only for see the first steps of an actress like Anabel Alonso it was worth. There wasn´t a second edition. The works for the new use of the slaughterhouse started. But this is another story.

Javi Fernandez (English 501)

16

OUR INVISIBLE PET

We are often surrounded by animals. Oops! Sorry, don’t misunderstand me please. I’m referring to pets, of course. There are lots of dogs, cats, birds, fish and many more kinds of pets living together with their owners. We have a pet in the Language School, although most of the students and teachers haven’t realized yet. I suppose that a talkative parrot might be the most appropriate pet for a language school. However, our pet is a lamb. He’s white and sweet like cotton candy. When I first saw him, I thought he was a poodle. He stared at me innocently and I gave him a smile. He was so cute! You probably are wondering about that weird presence at the school. So I’ll try to explain it. The Official Language School in Barakaldo has been working since 1992 in a remodelled building that previously used to be a slaughterhouse. Thousands and thousands of cows, pigs and sheep were turned into beef, pork and mutton every year, from 1917 until 1985, when the old abattoir was closed. The last killed animal was a little white lamb. His flesh became a delicious kebab, while his spirit has wandered around the building for ages. Our lamb is usually invisible because he’s a ghost, obviously. That’s why you’ll have to open your mind if you want to see him. Anyway, many students and some teachers have been able to see our pet. If you are revising phrasal verbs for more than two hours e. g., you won’t have any problem to see the lamb … and perhaps even a whole flock too. He can appear anywhere: in a classroom or on the top of a bookcase, in the lift or on a wall. He doesn’t have to obey the gravity law. Actually, he’s the only one who doesn’t have to respect any rule at school. Fortunately he’s as good as gold at the moment, but keep your fingers crossed that the lamb not to get never naughty. I’m afraid that discipline punishments aren’t effective against ghosts. Last week our pet received an interesting offer to move to San Mamés Berria next year. It seems that some important people would like the old lion to be retired. But our lovely lamb rejected that proposition immediately in animal solidarity. I’m proud of him and I think he deserves a big marble statue. If I were the mayor, I’d place it in front of the school gate, for everybody to see our pet, our invisible pet.

ÁNGEL GUTIÉRREZ ENGLISH –307

17

IT WAS ONLY A NIGHTMARE

It was a cold morning, the sky was covered and threatened storm. The streets of the city were deserted. Ted had left his house early in the hope of finding someone to talk with, because he felt very lonely. Ted had not seen anybody for a long time and he was starting to be concerned about his mental health. When he walked along the deserted streets and he saw the empty buildings he could not stop thinking how everything had happened, neither avoiding a feeling of helplessness. He was thinking about his current situation when, to some hundred meters ahead of him, something attracted his attention, some sounds which did not seem normal, Ted however could not resist the temptation to find out that was happening, so he approached the area and discovered that there were some strange creatures which were collecting objects on the street. Suddenly one of the creatures emitted a high-pitched sound and the other ones started to imitate the same sound, as in a ritual. Ted had a bad premonition and decided to go away, but it was already too late, because the creatures had detected him. He fled as fast as he could, but it was useless. Ted received an impact on his back and fell to the ground. He was fully conscious, but he could not move. The creatures approached him and one of them placed a device on his head, at that moment a mantle of darkness clouded his mind. Ted woke up startled and soaked in sweat, got out of bed and looked out of the window. The sun was shining in the sky, people walked hurriedly on the streets and the traffic was collapsed, as always. Ted calmed down when he realized that everything seemed normal and thought: everything is OK it has only been a nightmare.

Jose Luis Morales Paniagua English B1.1 / group 301

18

What do you feel?

What do you feel? Can you hear me? I can´t see you but I feel you are here, inside me. When will I be able to see you? When you move I know that you are awake, that you have hiccup, I know where you are and how you are but, what do you feel? Can you hear me? Can you feel my hands on my belly? I think you like it because you get still. Daddy and I laugh about this because when you are moving I tell dad to put his hands on my belly but at that moment you get still and dad can´t feel you. I´d like to see you so much! If I could see you.... You have been 8 months in my belly. My belly moves and changes shape when you move inside me. When I heard you the first time at the doctor´s it was incredible. Your heart was beating strong and fast . It was music for me, it was exciting. But, what did you feel then? In the fifth month I could see you on the doctor´s screen. We asked him how you were and he told us you were well but I couldn´t ask him if you were a girl or a boy. I couldn´t say anything else because I was very nervous. Suddenly, the doctor asked us: “ Do you know what the baby is? We said we didin´t and he asked us again: “ Would you like to know? Yes, we said and at that moment the doctor said: “she is a girl” I burst into tears. What did you feel? Did you feel my happiness? My body changed, my mind changed and my heart changed. You are all in the world for me since I knew you were part of me. All the day I think about you but, what do you think about? Do you talk to me us I talk to you? At the moment I can just touch you through my belly and tell you what I think. I like feeling you so much! I would like to see you soon but, on the other hand I have you inside me and for me, only for me, and I like this situation very much because I know inside me you are secure and you are mine. This is very selfish feeling, I know, and what about you, what do you feel? Next month you´ll be with us, we´ll be able to see you, to touch you, to carry you and to kiss you. We´ll love you, we already love you. How can we love somebody we haven´t seen yet? It´s incredible! This is what I feel and what about you, what do you feel?

BENE RAMOS PINO Ingles B.1.1 - Grupo 302

19

The turquoise pond In summer the sky used to be blue in the morning and it became scarlet and violet in the evening for changing into purple and later midnight blue. I had lived in the countryside for a few years, in a huge building with many guests. The windows and the balcony overlooked a neoclassical garden. In the middle of the garden stood a turquoise pond surrounded by hundred-year-old trees and marble sculptures. It was my favourite place and I used to spend hour after hour looking at the pond, daydreaming. I loved the autumn with those trees in tones of olive green and bronze; the burnt orange leaves scattered over the copper and golden brown ground; I loved the sound of the wind whistling through the branches and the noise of pebbles thrown into the water; I also loved the smell of freshly mown grass and the scent of orange blossom on rainy days. Heaven knows why I left that peaceful place and went to my old flat; but the fact is that I found myself in front of the mirror wondering who I was. I stood there for a long time without recognising that image mirrored. As the situation was about to lead me on the verge of a nervous breakdown, I rushed downstairs towards the street to breathe deeply .Small white lights flooded the streets while the buildings were reflected in the wet paving. Meanwhile, the shop windows sent out distorted images of surroundings. After having been wandering the streets, I went into a cosy café. I sat at a wooden table to have a soft drink and to clear my ideas up but I couldn´t; it was as if my head had been emptied of thoughts. When I took the purse out of my handbag, I saw a piece of paper, similar to a note: “Fiction and Reality are increasingly blurred. Who´ll inspire you?” I looked around me but I didn´t see anything odd. The café was packed with people and most of them were discussing about literature and politics. They sounded excited. A couple of customers approached to greet me; I stood up quickly to ask them who they were and who I was but they looked at each other and burst into laughter. In summer, the local mental hospital patients used to spend the afternoons in the garden. They liked it. That afternoon, the patients were swarming to the pond; many of them felt curiosity because, there, another patient, a woman, pretended to read her illegible diary with trembling voice: “In summer the sky used to be blue in the morning and it became scarlet and violet in the evening for changing into purple and later midnight blue”...

But she stopped to talk. Her inspiration had disappeared and reality was getting blurred. Without any sign of emotion, she threw her memories into the turquoise waters.

Manoli Rodríguez English/class: 602