Page 1

IWEY e-book 1 2011-2012/2012-2013

CONTENTS: 1.-Introduction-Summary 2.-Ferrol Exhibition: ‘What’s Empathy for You?’ -Posters -Photo montage -Translations of the story: ‘O Voo da Avelaiña’ (The Flight of the Moth) 3.-Graphics on the questionnaire abou empathy, year 2011-2012. 4.-Graphics on the questionnaire abou empathy, year 2012-2013

IWEY: ‘If I Were You’ If I were you or, in other words, if I were in your place. Well, that’s the title of the European project our school has been working on for about a year. The countries taking part in the project are so varied as: Lithuania, Turkey, Romania, Italy and Spain. The countries participating in it aim at raising in our students that feeling so widely forgotten today that is ‘empathy’. We mean, trying to feel in our own skin what other people are living, perceiving or feeling at a given time. IWEY ARE: ANKARA (TURKEY), KURSENAI (LITHUANIA),


Beius Romania

Ferrol Spain

Italy Palermo

Ankara Turkey

November 2011


Beius Romania

Ferrol Spain

Italy Palermo

Ankara Turkey

We started our project at the beginning of this scholastic year when we welcomed the representatives of the other partner countries. Because of this visit, we organised an exhibition that included posters and a fotomontage, made by several students that belonged to the groups 3rd A and 4th A, that our visitors appreciated a lot. At the same time, we worked in several coordination sessions during their stay. In addition, we also reserved some time for showing them a little bit of our way of life, our landscapes and our culture. The most exciting part of the project came by March. A group of 8 students, taking part in the

project who belonged to the group 4th A travelled to Palermo, in Sicily, accompanied by three teachers. There, they would meet the students coming from the other schools. And, what would you like us to say?. You just have to take a look at their faces in the photographs to learn how enriching the experience they lived was to them. Since meeting people from very distant countries, each one with their own peculiarities, or getting to discern different accents and levels from each country when it comes to communicating in English. And‌of course, trying to empathize with very different kinds of people.

And, to finish, in May, two teachers from the school travelled to Ankara, in Turkey, in order to attend a new coordination visit where the basis for organising the work for the next months were set up. Those will include a new visit to Romania in October and a new trip to Lithuania, in May 2013, this time with the students again. In the same way as in Palermo, during our stay in Turkey, scholastic and working activities were combined with others aiming at the reinforcement of the friendship and affection we have already established with our partners. As well, the activities allowed us the opportunity of getting to know and understand a little bit of the culture and history of each visited country. Therefore, we were shown three plays related to ‘empathy’, with the Turkish students as actors, we visited several exhibitions presenting some works carried out by the students, we commented the

results and materials made by the participating countries until that moment, etc.

The visit to Ankara and its most outstanding monuments made us change our mind about our conception of the city. At first sight, it’s a chaotic city, a little bit like Vigo, settled down on a group of hills and hosting a population of about 5.000.000 inhabitants. But, on the other hand, once you get a bit deeper in it, you realise that it looks a nice place to live. After our stay in Ankara, we travelled to the Cappadocia led by our hosts. That’s another characteristic area in Turkey as it hides one of the most relevant historic legacies in the country behind its beautiful and amazing rocky winding landscape.

There, you can visit such awesome places as churches carved in the rock for protection or authentic subterranean cities. The whole place is nestled in an unbelievably wonderful landscape which can be appreciated even better by taking a balloon trip.

Turkey means an amazing discovery for the visitor. From the mixture of cultures it houses, passing through the modernity one notices in its cities and, highlighting, above all, the kindness, care and hospitality of its people. We hope that the new experiences to come for the next year will be so enriching and satisfying as the ones we’ve lived along this one.


Empathy from different points of view: view:

• At school • Sport • At home • Society • The environment • Animals • Cultures • Literature

Empathy means: • Understanding • Respect • Trust • Concern • Interest • Compassion • Solidarity • Proximity • Care • Tenderness ………………..

By Carlos

How are you doing? I can understand you. I failed six the last term….

Not very well. I’ve failed a lot of subjects at school. And…what did you do?

Well… My parents were worried. They found out that I din’t know how to study.

And… what did they do?. They helped me to organise my work for some days…

What was the result?

Now, I’ve passed evrything with good marks and we are very happy. Oh… Can you help me too? Yes, of course. It will be a pleasure

By Lois and VĂ­ctor.

In the special Olympic games for disabled people, they were running the 100 metres race. When it started, everybody began to run but one of them fell and started to cry. When the rest of participants heard the crying, they stopped running and came back to help him . A woman with Down’s syndrome kissed him and said : Be quiet now you're going to get well . The nine participants held their hands and walked to the finishing line together . The atlethes were disabled but they weren't insensitive.

The stadium started to clap during some minutes. Why? Because really everybody must know that it’s better in life to help the other people to rise and win than being a solitary winner.

Nadal and Federer have been rivals for years but they always admit who has played better.

Rafa affirms that after spending so much time together, they’ve found out that they think the same : tennis is just a game what remains thereafter is the single person.

I would feel like you…!

Empathy is the ability to think and feel the inner life of another person as one's

Empathy is seeing with your eyes what the eyes of the others see.

We all live with the aim of being happy. Our lives are different but, basically, the same

It’s necessary today to empathize with the sea because we’re destroying all its life. In the photos some shellfishermen are complaining for this reason.

Some farmers empathize with Nature when they make scarecrows that resemble a man and a woman and when they build in harmony with Nature.

I would be thankful to you for: Recycling

Recycling is another way of empathy with our planet. We understand its needs and cooperate to preserve it.

If you give the clothes that you don’t need to other people, you’re helping them and polluting less.

CRY FOR EMPATHY I’m alone… All of mine have died. I just wanted to eat, I needed it... But they don’t understand that, and now they are hunting me. Having killed all the others may not be enough? Can’t they leave me alone?. I just wanted to survive ... Is that a sin? How bad have I done that I am now forever condemned to flee or surrender to death? They pursue me with their deadly fire weapons, those designed to protect ... that are just used to kill without mercy, without thinking about the damage they are doing. And I ... I am forced to use my peaceful home as my refuge ... The forests that once were my allies have finally become my enemies. Again, the dry chilling sounds of death flood the ambience, their cries come from everywhere ... They try to confuse me ... And they are succeeding. And I can only do something that I keep doing too frequently nowadays... Running to try to save my life, running and not surrendering, running for believing that there is still hope left for me ... For that wolf that one day believed he could live in peace amongst humans. Run and run ... But it’s useless, they corner me, the prey has been hunted. And I surrender to my end. I sit slowly on the snowy ground, and bow my head. I've been defeated ... They surround me, they’re ready to destroy the thin line that keeps me alive. There isn’t any room left for me in this world!.

Nati and Guille were a brother and a sister who were always fighting, and their parents couldn't stop them although they were punished all the time .

One day, their grandmother who was coming from the village because of a medical revision, came and visited them.

Punished, as usual, brother and sister looked out from their rooms to see who was coming for a visit.

After being forced to welcome their grandomother, the two children came back to their rooms.

But they found a moth and Guille insisted in killing her: “Die, wicked insect!�

Then, their grandmother, came inside authoritative: “Stop there. Don't even touch the moth�

And the children, now calm, listened to the story of the moth their grandmother told them .

‘You should do no harm to the moths as they are the souls of the dead that are looking for the heat of light’.

Since that time, the two children try to be more respectful towards the others, as well as towards animals, and phone her frequently.

Her grandchildren feel themselves better people now and, above all, they look forward to going to the village and listening to her stories.

Esta fotonovela non sería posíbel sen: Ainoa Romero Rico, no papel de avoa Sara Vellón Caneiro, no papel de mai Inés Teixeira Carrodeguas, no papel de filla Diego Porca Lorenzo, no papel de fillo

This fotomontage wouldn’t have been possible without: Ainoa Romero Rico, grandmother Sara Vellón Caneiro, mother Inés Teixeira Carrodeguas, daughter Diego Porca Lorenzo, son

Ademais de… noutros asuntos técnicos a: Alicia Malde García Adrián Cadenas González José Manuel Álvarez Medín Adrián Díaz Otero Laura Fernández Sánchez Iolanda Sánchez Méndez Henrique Dacosta López

Thanks to the following for their help regarding other technical questions: Alicia Malde García Adrián Cadenas González José Manuel Álvarez Medín Adrián Díaz Otero Laura Fernández Sánchez Iolanda Sánchez Méndez Henrique Dacosta López


O VOO DA AVELAÍÑA A desputa estaba servida. Como sempre. E é que os momentos de encalmada ao entender dos pais— viñan a ser menos que os de vendaval. Como o can e o gato, tal é que se daban eles. Cousa sen maior importancia en sendo máis novos, mais con cadanseus once e doce anos, o caso —se sentidiño se lle pon— pintaba máis de preocupar. Bastaba o máis mínimo roce, o máis ínfimo contratempo e, en menos do que canta un galo, berros de aquí e de acolá, reproches deste contra aquel, os trastos de un arrebolados á cabeza do outro, e a posterior intervención das forzas da orde para o restabelecemento da mesma. Logo os castigos, ineficaces por a vixilancia no cumprimento das leis ser pouco operativa. O estado de reclusión, unha hora máximo, cada un no seu cuarto. Pasada esta, e rebaixada a pena de drástico xeito, chegaba o perdón. Libres do cativerio, á Nati e ao Guille, que lles había de restar? Agardaren até á próxima, que senón! E así era un día, e outro, e outro máis aínda. Mais naquel, naquel máis en concreto, todo viñera a mudar. Tan pouco era o que fixera falta! A avoa, si, esa velliña enrugada, esa con roupa escura e sempre ulindo á herba seca. Presentárase na casa, de súpeto. Visitábaos, rara circunstancia, por causa do médico. Carme, de paso que viña para traballar na cidade, achegáraa ao ambulatorio. E súa irmá, por iso mesmo, sentírase incomodada. Non llo ter advertido con antelación, se a podía ter acompañado! Pero, en fin, xa o falarían máis devagar. O importante agora é que estaba alí, na súa casa; toda unha sorpresa, por máis que inesperada. Grande virtude, a da avoa Claudina, ser reservada. Nunca quere, deplórao, sentirse de máis. “Pero, mamá, que molestia vai ser, tremenda bobada vostede pensar niso. Que menos ha de facer unha filla por súa mai!”, dicía a mai de Nati e Guille. Ambos asomándose dos seus cuartos a curiosear, castigados como de costume. Manel, seu xenro, non tardaría en regresar; mandárao a un recado. Saudárona desdeñosos, mais ela obrigáraos a lle dar un bico. “Déixaos, Rosalía, aos pequenos non os hai que forzar. Non han de querer menos ás persoas porque non lles fagan cariños”. Porén era unha circunstancia que non lle agradaba. Que falta de respecto máis grande, que menos que os netos fosen correctos coa avoa! Coma quen ouve cantar un carro, a Nati e o Guille sumíranse para os seus cuartos, e en breve deuse un novo balbordo xa. Unha avelaíña de arredor da lámpada! Á Nati repugnáballe, e o Guille aproveitábase para se rir dela, encirrándoa pola falta de valentía inherente ao seu sexo. Talvez por iso, el máis ca ela, empeñárase en lle dar caza —por algo dicir—, tentando coa almofada esmagala a todo custo. “Morre, desgrazada, vil insecto!”, mentres súa irmá tapaba a cabeza coas mans, quen sabe se por se safar dos almofadazos ou se por noxo real por causa do bicho. “Paren aí de inmediato vostedes! Sacrilexio como ese non o quero eu ver. Á avelaíña nin tocala”, prorrompera autoritaria, solemne, a voz da velliña con olor á herba seca chantada no limiar da porta. Despois sentara na beira da cama cos dous ao seu carón, mansiños, hipnotizados, dispostos a escoitar. A voz dela mudou, volveuse arroupadora, meiga. Escoitábana pasmados, proba irrefutábel de que algo extraordinario sucedera. Velo para crelo. Posteriormente houbera infinidade de preguntas e máis historias. Os netos, parece mentira, deveceron a partir de aí por querer ir á aldea xunto dela. Telefonábana con inusitada frecuencia. Tratábase da súa avoa, faltaría máis, dos contos da avoa! E todo grazas ao voo da avelaíña, á que non se lle debe facer ningún mal, pois é a ánima dun defunto que morreu de desgraza e busca a caloriña da luz, esa mesma caloriña que os netos da Claudina, seica, tanto ansiaban.

THE FLIGHT OF THE MOTH The dispute was about to begin, as usual. And it just so happens that the calm moments, as their parents figured out, were less than those of a thunderstorm/gale. Their relationship was as similar as a dog to a cat. It was not as important when they were younger but, now, as they have grown, one eleven and one twelve years old, the issue on second glance became more of a concern. The tiniest light touch was enough to set one off, the smallest misadventure, and then in the blink of an eye there were shouts everywhere, reproaches from one to the other, junk thrown at one another´s head, and the subsequent attempt of intervention from law enforcement was instituted to restore order. However, these punishments were innefective due to the inoperative surveillance in law enforcement. The state of their seclusion was only an hour, at most, which consisted of each one of the children confined to their room. Once the time had passed, the punishment lowered drastically, forgiveness came, and they were free from captivity. And as for Nati and Guille, what was left from there? Well, waiting for the next dispute , of course! And so it was, day after day, after day. More, in that precise moment, everything had changed. It was so little what had actually been needed, the grandmother! Yes, that old wrinkled woman who wore dark clothes and always smelled of dry herb. One day she appeared at their home, unexpectedly. She was visiting them under strange circumstances, because of a doctor visit. Carme, as she had to work in the city as well, had taken her to the hospital. Her sister, for that same reason, felt uncomfortable. If she had been notified in advance of the purpose of her arrivel, she would have accompanied her. But, later they would discuss it quitely. What was important now is that she was there, at their home; such a nice surprise, however much unexpected. A great virtue she held, grandmother Claudina, her reserve. She never wanted, in fact, she deplored feeling as if she was a disturbance. ¨But mum, how are you bothering us? What a silly thing to think. This is the least a daughter should do for her mother!¨ said Nati and Guille´s mum as they onlooked from the confines of their bedrooms, punished as usual. Manel, her son-in-law wouldn´t take long to come back; she had sent him to run an errand. They greeted her scornfully, but she obliged them to kiss her. ¨Let them go,¨ Rosalia, ¨Little children needn´t be forced. They won´t love people less just because they don´t cuddle them.¨ However, it was still an unfortunate circumstance she disliked. What an outstanding lack of respect! At least the grandchildren should have good behaviour in the presence of their grandmother. Despite, her feelings fell on deaf ears. Then, as if they were dumb, Nati and Guille returned to their rooms, and shortly thereafter was already a new noise coming from within! There was a moth flying around the lamp! Nati loathed it and Guille took the opportunity to laugh at her, stirring her up because of her lack of courage inherent to her sex. Maybe, for that reason, he engaged himself in hunting the moth, trying to crush it with the pillow, saying, ¨Die, unfortunate, wicked insect!¨ while his sister was covering her head with her hands; who knows if for the sake of avoiding the blows from the pillow or for the actual disgust of the bug. “Stop there immediately you two! I don´t want to see such a sacrilege.¨ Don´t even touch the moth!¨ burst out the authoritative voice of the old woman with the smell of dry herb standing at the doorframe. Afterwards, she sat down on the edge of the bed with both of them at either sides, calm, hypnotized, and ready to listen. Her voice changed, became tender, bewitching even. They listened to her in awe, which was irrefutable proof that something extraordinary was happening. One had to see it to believe it. After that, there were lots of questions from the children and more stories from their grandmother. And, from that day onwards, her grandchildren, surprisingly started wanting to go to her village and visit her. They phoned her with unusual frequency. It was their grandmother, needless to say, it was her tales they loved! These changes were thanks to the flight of the moth, ¨whom you should do no harm, as it is the reincarnation of a departed sould who died from misfortune and is looking for the warmth of light.¨ Subsequently, the same warmth that Claudina´s grandchildren it seems, longed for some time.

LAS MARIPOSAS DE LA LUZ A punto de desatarse el conflicto. Igual que siempre. Ya que los momentos de calma —según sus padres— se sucedían con menos frecuencia que los de vendaval. Como el perro y el gato, así se llevaban ellos. Cosa sin mayor importancia siendo más pequeños, pero con once y doce años cada uno, el caso —en justicia— parecía mucho más preocupante. Bastaba el más mínimo roce, el más ínfimo de los contratiempos y, en un abrir y cerrar de ojos, gritos por un lado y por el otro, reproches de este contra aquel, los trastos de uno arrojados sobre la cabeza del otro, y la posterior intervención de las fuerzas del orden para el restablecimiento de este. Posteriormente los castigos, ineficaces dado que la vigilancia para el cumplimiento de las leyes resultaba poco operativa. El estado de reclusión, una hora máximo, cada uno en su habitación. Transcurrida esta, y una vez rebajada la pena de manera drástica, llegaba el perdón. Libres del cautiverio, a Nati y a Guille, ¿qué les faltaba? Aguardar hasta la próxima, ¡qué si no! Y así era un día, y el otro, y otro más todavía. Pero en aquel, en aquel en concreto, todo empezó a cambiar. ¡Tan poco había hecho falta! La abuela, sí, esa viejecita arrugada, esa con ropa oscura y siempre oliendo a heno. Se había presentado en casa, de repente. Los visitaba, una rara circunstancia, por causa del médico. Carme, de paso que venía a trabajar a la ciudad, la había acercado hasta el ambulatorio. Y a su hermana, por esta misma razón, le había parecido mal. ¡No habérselo advertido con antelación, si la podía haber acompañado! Pero, en fin, ya lo hablarían más tranquilamente. Lo importante en ese momento era que estaba allí, en su casa; toda una sorpresa, aunque inesperada. Gran virtud, la de la abuela Claudina, ser reservada. Nunca quiere, lo deplora, sentirse de más. “Pero, mamá, qué molestia ha de ser, tremenda tontería que piense usted eso. ¡Qué menos ha de hacer una hija por su madre!”, decía la madre de Nati y Guille. Ambos asomándose desde sus habitaciones queriendo curiosear, castigados como de costumbre. Manel, su yerno, no tardaría en regresar; lo había mandado a un recado. La saludaron de forma desdeñosa, pero ella les había obligado a darle un beso. “Déjalos, Rosalía, a los niños no hay que forzarlos. No van a querer menos a las personas porque no les demuestren afecto”. Sin embargo era una circunstancia que no le agradaba. ¡Qué falta de respeto tan grande, que menos que los nietos fueran correctos con su abuela! Les entraba por un oído y les salía por el otro, Nati y Guille se introdujeron en sus habitaciones, y al poco se produjo ya un nuevo alboroto. ¡Una mariposa nocturna alrededor de la lámpara! A Nati le repugnaba, y Guille se aprovechaba para reírse de ella, azuzándola por su falta de valentía inherente a su sexo. Quizá por ello, él más que ella, se había empecinado en darle caza —por decir algo—, intentando aplastarla con la almohada costase lo que costase. “¡Muere, desgraciada, vil insecto!”, mientras su hermana se tapaba la cabeza con las manos, a saber si por intentar librarse de los almohadazos o si por el asco real que le causaba el bicho. “¡Paren ahí ustedes inmediatamente! Sacrilegio como ese no lo quiero ver. ¡A la mariposa ni tocarla!, había proferido autoritaria, solemne, la voz de la viejecita con olor a heno de pie en el umbral de la puerta. Después se había sentado a un lado de la cama con los dos a su lado, mansos, hipnotizados, dispuestos a escuchar. La voz de ella cambió, se volvió aterciopelada, hechicera. La escuchaban embelesados, prueba irrefutable de que algo extraordinario había sucedido. Verlo para creerlo. Posteriormente le habían hecho infinidad de preguntas y ella les había contado más historias. Los nietos, quién lo diría, desearon a partir de ahí ir a la aldea junto a ella. La llamaban por teléfono con inusitada frecuencia. ¡Se trataba de su abuela, cómo no, de los cuentos de la abuela! Y todo gracias al vuelo de la mariposa nocturna, a la que no se le debe hacer ningún mal, puesto que es el alma de un difunto que murió de desgracia y busca el calor de la luz, ese mismo calor que los nietos de Claudina, por lo que se ve, tanto ansiaban.

LE PAPILLON DE NUIT La dispute était déjà là. Comme d'habitude. Car les temps de calme -à l'avis de leurs parents- étaient moins nombreux que ceux de tempête. Ils s'entendaient comme chien et chat. Ce qui n'avait aucune importance lorsqu'ils étaient tous petits mais, à leurs onze et douze ans, le cas – à vrai dire- avait l'air préoccupant. Il suffissait la moindre friction, le contretemps le plus petit et, en un clin d'oeil, des cris partout, des reproches l'un contre l'autre, et puis l'intervention des forces de l'ordre afin de l'y rétablir. Ensuite, les punitions, tant inefficaces qu'opérationnelle la surveillance. Le temps de réclusion, une heure maximum, chacun dans sa chambre. Le temps passé et la peine rétrécie, le pardon arrivait. Libres de leur captivité, Nati et Guille, qu'est-ce qu'il leur en faut? D'attendre la prochaine fois, rien d'autre! Comme ça, un jour après l'autre, et le lendemain. Mais ce jour-là concrètement, tout arriva à changer. Il en avait fallu si peu de chose! Leur grand-mère, voilà, cette vieille dame sillonnée de rides, habillée en noir et toujours sentant l'herbe sèche. Elle s'était rendue chez eux, soudain. Elle leur rendait visite, rare évènement, de passage chez le médecin. Carme, de même qu'elle rentrait sur son poste de travail l'avait emmenée au dispensaire. Voilà pourquoi sa soeur s'était ennuyée. Ne pas l'avoir avertie à l'avant, elle aurait pu bien l'accompagner! Mais, enfin, elles en reparleraient plus calmement. Ce qui était le plus important, c'est qu'elle était là, chez elle; un vrai coup de théâtre, d'autant plus inattendu. Une vraie vertue, celle de grand-mère Claudina, d'être discrète. Elle ne veut jamais, le regrette fort, d'être de trop. “Mais, maman, pas d'ennui, ne pensez plus à ces bricoles-là. Que n'en ferait pas une fille pour sa mère! -disait la mère de Nati et Guille. Tous les deux se penchaient fouinants hors leurs chambres. Manel, son beau-fils, rentrerait aussitôt; il faisait une comission. Ils la saluèrent dédaignants, mais elle les avait obligés à l'embrasser. “Ne t'en fais pas, Rosalía, il ne faut jamais obligé les enfants. Ils nous aiment, bien qu'ils ne nous prodigent pas de câlineries. Pourtant, c'était une situation qui ne lui plaisait absolument. Un tel manque de respect, ils devaient au moins se porter envers leur grand-mère! Comme si on chantait, Nati et Guille étaient montés dans leurs chambres, et peu après, une nouvelle pagaille. Un papillon de nuit autour de la lampe! Nati le trouvait dégoûtant, et Guille en profitait pour se moquer d'elle, l'asticotant pour ce manque de courage dû à son sexe. Peut-être pour ça, c'était lui plus qu'elle qui s'efforçait à le chasser -pour ainsi dire- s'engageant à l'étouffer avec l'oreiller. “Meure, pauvre hère, vil insecte”, alors que sa soeur cachait sa tête entre ses mains, qui saurait si pour se sauver des coups d'oreiller ou bien par dégoût envrs de la bestiole. “Arrêtez-vous immédiatement! Je ne veux point regarder un tel sacrilège. Le papillon de nuit, il faut pas le toucher”, éclata autoritaire, solennelle, la voix de la petite vieille dame qui sentait l´herbe sèche débout au pas de la porte. Puis, elle s'était assise au bord du lit, les deux enfants à ses côtés, hypnotisés, prêts à écouter. Sa voix changea, devenît enveloppante, sorcière. Ils l'écoutaient étonnés, épreuve irréfutable qu'un évènement extraordinaire venait d'arriver. Il fallait le voir pour le croire. Puis, une infinité de questions et d'histoires se succédèrent. Les petits-enfants, ce n'est pas croyable, à partir de ce moment-là, désirèrent ardemment d'aller à la campagne chez elle. Ils lui téléphonaient aussi souvent comme on l'avait jamais vu. C'était leur grand-mère, qui pourrait s'en douter, c'était les histoires de grand-mère! Et tout ça, grâce au papillon de nuit, au fait qu'il ne faut jamais lui faire du mal, puis qu'il s'agît de l'âme d'un être défunt qui est mort malheureusement et cherche la chaleur de la lumière, cette même chaleur que les petits-enfants de Claudina, peut-on dire, convoitaient autant.


The Italian school prepared a questionnaire that was sent to all the partner schools and given to the students taking part in the project, In the graphics which you can see below and in the next page, we are showing the results we got in our school.


During the second year, we used the same questionnaire that had been designed for the first one and these are the results we got:


• • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • •

Students: Alicia Malde García Jessica Martínez Ferreño Víctor Páez Blanco Lois Rico Campo Paloma Sánchez Graña Pablo Torres Paris Alberto Vargas Fraga Sara Vellón Caneiro Diego Porca Lorenzo Ainoa Romero Rico Inés Teixeira Carrodeguas Iria Álvarez Rama Xerezade Ansedes López Elia Bellón González Lucía Dopico Díaz Sara Fanego Villar Giovanna Fernández Souto Paloma Lisi Trinidad Gil

Teachers: María del Carmen Torres Rodríguez Alfonso Prieto Pita Henrique Dacosta López Eduardo Golpe Méndez Iolanda Sánchez Méndez Laura M. Fernández Sánchez Teresa Gómez Cheda Mª Beatriz Ferreira Couto Jose Ángel Galán Tosar Miguel Ortega Souto Special thanks to Camille Ehlers, our language assistant in 2011-2012 for her help with the translations. Thanks as well to some web sites where we took some free textures from: Texture Warehouse Grunge Textures Free Texturesite.com Lostandtaken.com

IWEY e-book 1 2011-2012/2012-2013

Profile for María del Carmen Torres Rodríguez

Comenius project IWEY. E-book 1.  

This first e-book includes some of the materials created in the context of a European project Comenius 2011-2013 called If I Were You. It sh...

Comenius project IWEY. E-book 1.  

This first e-book includes some of the materials created in the context of a European project Comenius 2011-2013 called If I Were You. It sh...