FOREIGN TEACHERS ARE NEEDED ALL OVER CHINA

Ad No.90374

Posted July 12, 2015 by Amanda

Expire Date August 12, 2015

Tag：Beijing Language Teaching Part Time

We are looking for Teachers, whose Native Language is English, willing to teach in China. Mostly schools are in South of China.

The Benefit package for ESL Teachers includes：

One-year Contract：1st September 2015 to 1st August 2016

Salary 4,000 RMB to 5,000 RMB/Month

Teaching load & schedule：20 teaching hours per week

A rent-free, fully furnished apartment with a living room, bedroom, kitchen and bathroom   

Kitchen facilities provided, other electric appliances will be supplied, water, heater, microwave etc.

If you are interested, please read the information above and kindly send your application to attach the following documents (in doc or JPEG format)．The subject to be mentioned, as “teach in China”

1).CV/Resume（简历）

2).A copy of academic degree/diploma/certificate/or college transcript

3).A photocopy of the data page of valid passport

4).A recent color photo

5).A letter of recommendation or release letter from your previous Chinese school （Only if you worked in China previously）

6).Any other relevant information that you think might help your application

    Blowing bubbles is fun! The best thing about bubbles is that it's easy to make your own bubble solution(溶液). You can make as much as you want and blow as many bubbles as you'd like. If you add a "secret" ingredient(配料), you'll get bigger and stronger bubbles! Do just as follows:

    Measure 6 cups of water into one container, then pour 1 cup of dish soap into the water and slowly stir it until the soap is mixed in. Try not to let bubbles form while you stir.

    Measure 1 tablespoon of glycerin(甘油) or 1/4 cup of corn syrup（玉米淀粉） and add it to the container. Stir the solution until it is mixed together.

    You can use the solution right away, but to make even better bubbles, put the lid on the container and let your super bubble solution sit overnight. The soap mixture on the outside of a bubble is actually made of three very thin layers: soap, water, and another layer of soap. A bubble pops when the water that is trapped between the layers of soap evaporates(蒸发). The glycerin or corn syrup mixes with the soap to make it thicker. The thicker skin of the bubbles keeps the water from evaporating as quickly, so they last longer. It also makes them stronger, so you can blow bigger bubbles.

    Dip a bubble wand or straw into the mixture, slowly pull it out, wait a few seconds, and then blow. If you don't have a ready-made "bubble wand", you can make your own by cutting off the end of the bulb of a plastic pipet. Dip the cut end in solution and blow through the narrow end. You can also make a loop out of thin wire or pipe cleaner. Just twist a round end on your wire to blow the bubbles through. You can even make it heart-shaped, square or use other shapes if you're clever enough to bend it well.

    This is my son Matthew's last night at home before college. I know that this is good news. I feel proud that Matthew will go to a great school. I know that this is finest hour. But looking at the suitcases on his bed sends me out of the room to a hidden corner where I can't stop crying.

    Through the sorrow, I feel a rising embarrassment. "Pull yourself together!" I tell myself. There are parents sending their kids off to battle zones. How dare I feel so shocked and upset?

    One of the great gifts of my life has been having my boys, Matthew and Johnowen. Through them, I have explored the mysterious, complicated bond between fathers and sons. As my wife and I raised them, I have discovered the love and loss between my father and me. After my parents' divorce，I spent weekends with my dad in Ohio. By the time Sunday came around, I was unable to enjoy the day's activities because I was already afraid of the goodbye of the evening.

    Now，standing among Matthew's accumulation of possessions, I realize it's me who has become a boy again. All my sadness and longing to hold on to things are back, sweeping over me as they did when I was a child.

    His bed is tidy and spare. It already has the feel of a guest bed. In my mind I replay wrapping him in his favorite blanket. That was our nightly routine until one evening he said," Daddy, I don't think I need a blanket tonight." I think of all the times we lay among the covers reading. I look at the bed and think of all the recent times I was annoyed at how late he was sleeping. I'll never have to worry about that again, I realize.

    For his part, Matthew has been a rock. He is treating his leaving as just another day at the office. And I'm glad. After all, someone's got to be strong. I'm proud that he is charging into the first chapter of his adult life with such confidence.

    Does your older brother think he's cleverer than you? Well, he's probably right. According to a new research published in the journal Intelligence, the oldest children in families are likely to have the highest IQs and the youngest the lowest.

    A number of studies have suggested that IQ scores decline with birth order. In the most recent study, at Vrije University, Amsterdam, researchers looked at men and women whose IQ had been tested at the ages of 5, 12, and 18.

    The results, which show a trend for the oldest to score better than the youngest in each test, involved about 200,000 people. That showed that first-borns had a three-point IQ advantage over the second-born, who was a point ahead of the next in line.

    The order of birth can also affect personality, achievement, and career, with first-borns being more academically successful and more likely to win Nobel prizes. However, eldest children are less likely to be radical(不同凡响的) and pioneering. Charles Darwin, for example, was the fifth child of six.

    Exactly why there should be such differences is not clear, and there are a number of theories on environmental influences on the child.

    The so-called dilution(稀释法) theory suggests that as family resources, both emotional and physical, as well as economic, are limited, it follows that, as a result , as more children come along, the levels of parental attention and encouragement will drop. Another theory is that the intellectual environment in the family favors the first-born who has, at least for some time, the benefit of individual care and help.

    The theory which enjoys the most support is that the extra time and patience that the earlier-borned get from their parents, compared with those arriving later, gives them an advantage.

During one of the earliest performances of "Peter Pan," the much-loved fantasy play for children, a small boy was invited to watch the production from the balcony. Afterwards he was asked what he liked best about the play. The pirates? The crocodile? Peter Pan flying through the air? The child's response was surprising: "What I think I liked best was tearing up the program and dropping the bits on people's heads".

The audience who left the theater with bits of paper in their hair probably wouldn't agree with the boy on the best part of the play. Neither would the caretakers in charge of cleaning the theater afterward. But when J. M. Barrie, the creator of "Peter Pan," heard the boy's comment, he was delighted. He wasn't offended that the boy hadn't paid closer attention to the play. Instead, he considered it one of his favorite reactions to his work.

All of us have to deal with decisions made by others – their words, actions and attitudes – that could be considered offensive. This can be particularly difficult when we feel that the values and traditions we hold dear are being rejected or even laughed at.

But just as someone might choose whether or not to do something offensive, we can choose whether or not to be insulted (侮辱). We can choose to give others the benefit of the doubt and not assume mean intent behind their actions. We can love people even if we do not love their choices. After all, isn't it more important – though perhaps more challenging – to love a person than to love words or actions?

Accepting people does not mean approving of or forgiving their decisions. It does not mean giving up our own rights to think and act differently. Nor does it mean we will never feel sad or hurt or disappointed. But at a deeper level, we can be at peace if we focus on love – for love has the power to overcome our disappointment, frustration and pain. And who knows? Our love may even soften a heart. But even if it doesn't, the best approach is still to let love, peace, patience and kindness rule the day.

In high school I was very shy, content to hang around with my small group of friends and concentrate on my courses. I was quickly regarded as a "brain". I did so well that by the end of the senior year I had perfect grades and enough credits to give up an entire quarter of coursework.

But in early June of the senior year, the principal called me into his office. He asked me to give a speech at graduation. I gaped(目瞪口呆地凝视) at him, my heart thumping. This was the reward for my hard work? I mumbled something and fled the office, blaming myself for staying away from physics, a subject sure to have ruined my perfect record.

I finally agreed to a compromise. I would share the honour with five other students. And my friend Judy would then give her own, full-length speech.

The graduation day soon arrived. I'd been practising my speech for days, and I had it memorised. The first half hour of the ceremony passed in a blur, and then my moment came. My name was announced. I managed to reach the platform without falling down. I faced my classmates. My voice trembled a little, but mostly it was clear and strong. But within seconds, I was done and headed back to my seat. I accomplished something I'd never dreamed of—I spoke in front of hundreds of people.

Although I didn't realise it at the time, the successful completion of that speech gave me the confidence to participate in class at college, to give verbal reports, and to eventually break free from my shyness. I would never have chosen to give a speech at graduation ever. But I'm glad I did. I no longer hesitate when I'm faced with the prospect of doing something I dread. I know it may very well turn out to be one of my shining moments.