Изучение иностранного языка не сводится к выполнению упражнений, чтению текстов, прослушиванию аудиозаписей, разговору с партнером и другим предлагаемым учебниками заданиям. Как бы многочисленны и разнообразны ни были последние, всегда находятся студенты, которым недостаточно “общепринятых” видов работы, либо эти виды работы кажутся им недостаточно увлекательными, слишком однообразными и сковывающими полет фантазии.
Что будем творить?
Кто-то отваживаеся писать на иностранном языке рассказы или даже романы и стихи. Кто-то ограничивается статьями и эссе. Кто-то начинает заниматься художественным переводом на русский язык, чтобы иметь повод глубоко проникнуть в текст, разобраться в сложных грамматических конструкциях и узнать новые слова.
Зачем?
Прежде всего, такой творческий подход стимулирует мотивацию к изучению языка, а также помогает развить свободу письменной речи.
Еще один полезный навык – уметь разрешать себе делать ошибки. При написании рассказа не стоит стесняться грамматических и лексических ошибок – либо потом попросить преподавателя (или, например, партнера по переписке) их исправить, либо просто оставить “все как есть” – это не тест, оценивающий грамотность, это – работа в удовольствие!
Кстати, жанр “a story” нередко встречается в качестве задания раздела “Writing” в международных экзаменах, таких как кембриджские FCE, CAE, CPE и другие.
Что делать с готовыми творениями?
Ценность таких произведений – в самом их написании, в удовольствии от творчества и в возможности поглубже погрузиться в язык. Но можно и попытаться поделиться ими с окружающим миром. Небольшие работы можно публиковать в соцсетях у себя на страничке. Под работы побольше, особенно если они появляются регулярно, можно сделать собственный блог или завести ЖЖ. Можно поискать любительские издания. Например, студенческое сообщество F.A.C.E.S. при Институте философии СПбГУ ежегодно публикует журнал на английском языке, состоящий из статей и творческих работ студентов.
Свои работы можно подшивать и в “языковое портфолио” – это довольно распространенный сейчас способ оценивания языковых навыков учащегося (“portfolio assessment”). Собственные статьи и художественные произведения на изучаемом языке станут достойной частью такого портфолио.
Нелишне будет добавить, что нередко различные организации, связанные с изучением иностранных языков (издательства, Британский Совет, языковые школы), устраивают специальные конкурсы статей и творческих работ, и помимо диплома – который тоже можно упомянуть в своем резюме! – победитель порой получает достаточно весомые призы: от книг до бесплатного курса обучения за рубежом. См., например: Macmillan Short Story Writing Competition
В завершение, публикуем в оригинале рассказ, любезно предоставленный редакции его автором, 13-летней Еленой Стоцкой.
GHOST OF THE HOUSE
By Elena Stotskaya, 13 y.o.
–This painting looks very familiar to me, – said Zikata and gave her twin brother a questioning look. He nodded and answered, very surprised:
– It’s just the same for me.
– Yes. But really, what’s so special about it, Takko? It’s just an old picture of a village in winter.
– No, there must be something else. Let me take another look… – He turned to the painting again.
– Wait… I think I know the place, – he said in a minute.
– What?!
– Do you remember that forest where our parents took us about a month ago? There was an old house that looked like a castle. The one on the left is just the same! After that walk in the forest I asked Mum: “What is that scary house?” And she told me the story. In the past, there was a whole village – quite a big one! And its governor always wanted to live in a castle, so his house was decorated to look like a castle. After several years, most of the villagers moved to larger towns, and their houses were all destroyed by time. Only the governor’s house is still there. Some people wanted to buy it, but nobody stayed there for a long time. Everybody left in a hurry, swearing that the house is haunted by a horned devil.
– A haunted house? That’s fantastic! Oh, what a pity that I didn’t hear the story, Takko! I’d just run into that house if I did! Let’s go there tomorrow and tell the world what we saw!
– It’s not so easy, Zikata. I don’t think that our parents will let us go there.
– I’ll ask them.
Zikata came back, looking disappointed.
– They didn’t let us, did they?
– Of course not. When I asked Mum, she shouted: “No, no, no! You’ll get lost, you’ll be killed, you’ll be drowned… You’re too small to go there alone! And I’m too busy tomorrow to go with you”.
– There is always a way. We can get there not only on our own, but without our parents knowing about the trip.
– You mean – run away? Really?
–– Yes. I really mean it.
– But… But it’s almost a crime! Children who run away always become criminals in the future. That’s how Mum told me.
– Will you ever stop being a baby, Zikki? Nobody needs to follow those rules! Just think about it: a haunted house! Alone in the woods! No rules! Complete freedom! Or will you stay at home and play with pink dolls?
– All right, I agree.
The next morning, the two twins stole out of their beds. Nobody saw them creep into the dark hall. Nobody even heard them run down the stairs, jumping over steps. As the children came out of the house, they looked around carefully and hid behind a tree. It wasn’t necessary, though. The town was sleeping. All the windows were black and blank. The street seemed to be frozen. There was no movement at all, except Takko and Zikata sneaking along the row of houses.
When they reached the edge of the woods, it was already not so early. The children could hear voices in the distance. Zikata grabbed her brother’s hand and whispered:
– What if they find us?
– They won’t. Our parents always wake up late at weekends. By the time they get up, we’ll be back.
– But won’t we get lost?
–– Of course we won’t, Zikki! I saw the way once and I’ll never forget it!
Takko was right. Soon they were standing in front of the “castle”, too frightened to enter, too excited to go back, looking into the broken windows and dark rooms behind them. Then Takko said at last:
– I won’t turn back for anything in the world, especially when I’m so close to the mystery. I’ll lift it, no matter what it costs!
– But don’t you need a weapon, Takko? The devil can be really dangerous!
– He is dangerous! But we HAVEN’T GOT any weapons!!!
– We have! There’s an axe against the wall!
Takko took the axe and came back, murmuring something about “no normal weapons in a castle”. Then he stepped to the door and opened it with one movement.
The twins came into the house. It was nothing like a castle inside – just an old house full of echo and dust. The creaking door slowly closed behind the children.
– Nothing at all, Zikki.
– Maybe the devil just isn’t waiting for us in the hall. Let’s see other rooms.
They searched through the whole house. Nothing. Only their footsteps echoing through the old place. But when they opened the last door…
First it was just a dark room like all the others. But then Takko felt, rather than saw, something moving in the shadows. Then two horns appeared against the faint light for a second. There was no time for thinking. The boy lifted his axe and hit the devil. Something long and sharp fell on the floor. Takko lifted it and nearly dropped it again from surprise. There was nothing devilish in the thing – it was definitely a goat’s horn! The room suddenly filled with light. Zikata opened the door and said disapprovingly:
–– You nearly killed the poor animal!
Takko didn’t look up. He knew what he would see there. The boy was staring at the horn, not understanding what to do with it. Leave it here? Or bury it? Or take it home? It isn’t easy to hide the horn at home. But…
“A cup! A cup! A cup!” Takko heard something like a distant choir repeating these words again and again.
– What? Put the horn into a cup? I don’t think it’s a good idea! – The boy was completely puzzled.
He closed his eyes and opened them again. He was at home, lying in his bed. But why is it so hard for him to get up?
– What… What cup?
– Cup? I didn’t say cup. I said – wake up! – Mum was standing near his bed and laughing.
– And you aren’t angry at me for running away?
– What? You didn’t run away. Maybe it was a dream?
It was a dream! The forest, the house, the axe, the goat, the horn – the whole adventure was just a dream!
Takko was coming out of the room when he fell down from surprise – he saw the horn lying on the floor! The horn!
Maybe his sister saw his startled face – she half got up and said:
– Don’t you remember? We went to the old house in the woods. You saw that goat and nearly killed it. You chopped this horn right off and brought it home. Don’t you remember?