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IWEY e-book 2 2011-2012 / 2012-2013


Empathy related texts for the first year:

-MarĂ­a and the Empathy -The Empathy -The Prisoner -Poor Rich Man

Maria and the Empathy By Inés Mª Teixeira Carrodeguas

Maria is a normal, regular, 15 years old teenager, but she doesn’t like studying, and she is really lazy. Maria has got an aunt called Isabel. Isabel is mentally disabled, nothing serious, just learning difficulties, but she still suffers from it. Isabel can’t read or write, because she’s never tried to, and she thinks it is very difficult. She doesn’t work, so her clothes, food, house and whims are paid by her grandmother, who is Maria’s great-grandmother at the same time. Maria envies Isabel because she never had to study as much as her, she never had to do anything and everything she needs is paid by her grandmother.

One afternoon, Maria was reading her favourite book, ‘If you taught him to love, teach him to forget’. While she was reading, Isabel came by. Maria told Isabel that this was her favourite book and she offered it to her, to borrow it whenever she wanted. Isabel stayed still, silent for some time and didn’t answer; but then, almost whispering, she remembered her that she couldn’t read. Maria said she was sorry, that she didn’t remember she couldn’t read and then, to cheer her up, decided to watch the movie with Isabel, because she had the CD. As she was starting to play the film , Isabel sat down on the couch very happily. The film starts. It is in English, so you needed to read the subtitles in Spanish. Maria could follow the movie perfectly, but her aunt, not being able to read, didn’t get anything at all.

Maria was sad and tried to think how her auntie would be feeling, so she told her that she would read a chapter of her book every day to her, and she would teach her to read and write step by step. Isabel changed her face, suddenly lit in a wide smile. Now Maria doesn’t want to change her situation with Isabel, because, although once she wanted, now she understands.

The Empathy By Sara Vellon Caneiro

Whenever that woman saw those starving children, thirsty, freezing, suffering from unknown diseases, she felt deadly pitiful and used to think that there was nothing she could do for them, being herself as poor as they were. That woman felt the need of doing something to help those defenceless poor children, innocent from living that sort of life, using weapons and seeing things they should not. They could not be blamed for it and the woman, even sharing their same culture and tradition, and realizing that everybody else thought all of it was normal, wanted to do something to change it. But she could do nothing, because she actually was a victim, as everybody else there. Until one day, a Spanish volunteer came to that sad place and saw all those poor children dying slowly. Then, the African woman approached her and asked for some advice to help her family and all the people. The volunteer asked her if she would go to Spain with her, to study and try to earn some money to send back, saving at the same time

some more for the moment when she could come back and help in some way. She didn’t hesitate for a second: she said yes, she would go wherever, she would do whatever that was necessary to help those poor people. But, before leaving, she promised everybody, but specially the kids (they would be adults when she came back) that she would be back, and she would be back with money and help for all of them. Then, the volunteer took her to Spain, and hosted her in a room in her house. The woman chose to study Medicine, because it would be useful back in her country, with little children and people suffering. The volunteer helped her with everything she could, and the woman went successfully through her degree. It was hard, but she did it with a huge effort. She got her degree and a job. She had, at least, the kind of life she had always dreamt of: married, a house, a car, money, a job and everything.

And then, when she was about to cross the line of her fifties, she decided to accomplish her dream, going back to her land and helping as many people as she could. It was hard, leaving everything back here, her life would change completely and she would lose a lot of things, but it was her dream, the one she had fought for all these years, and she wouldn’t back off in the end. Then she arranged everything: permissions, papers, left her job, sold her house and car –she wouldn’t need that back there-. The hardest step was leaving here her husband but he decided to join her and leave it all, too. And so, they abandoned everything and left, taking with them only their money, clothes and necessary things. When the African woman arrived back to her homeland, the children were already adults, but they cried and run to hug her and thank her for being loyal to her promise.

She didn’t know what to say, being back in her country, with everything she had always dreamt of, which was helping that people. The only thing she knew was that it wouldn’t have been possible without that girl, the Spanish volunteer, the one she keeps writing to every year, thanking for everything she did for her and all those children.

The Prisoner By Pablo Torres ParĂ­s

He felt how the sweat was running down his back. What he was seeing started to lose clarity and to take a shade of unreality. Louis Tyson, honoured soldier and first in his training group, had to leave the room. He had arrived at Guantรก Guantรกnamo the previous day to work as a guard. Once there, his boss, a stout red faced man with inscrutable demeanour and throaty voice, explained him briefly the prison rules and he left the room. Next day, a man he didn't know told him that he must go with him to be in a questioning to become familiar with it. It was the first and the last questioning in this life. Entering the room, he saw a halfhalf-naked dirty little man bent over a kind of tub with two men holding him. The prisoner was crying while he muttered some unintelligible words. He had a panicked expression and sunk eyes. He was all panic.

One of the men holding him grabbed his nape and put his head under the water 10 seconds, 25 seconds, 1 minute, 1 minute and half. The guard took the head of the prisoner out of the water and asked him a question. The man tried to answer but he suffered a strong attack of retching that made him puke. One of the guards, disgusted, hit him in the stomach. The prisoner, then, looked for the first time at Louis. He didn't dare to hold his look. He could almost feel the water over him during more time that he believed he could endure, the shame of being halfhalf-naked and despised by those men, the taste of vomit inside of his mouth... He started to feel dizzy. He felt how the sweat was running down his back. What he was seeing started to lose clarity and to take a shade of unreality. Louis Tyson, honoured soldier and first in his training group, had to leave the room.

One of the soldiers, who, a moment before torturing that man, was without any change in his face, accompanied him to the infirmary with a worried expression. Louis didn't feel anything about what happened there, neither did he realize that he was back in his room, nor did he hear his partners talking to him. His mind come back once and again to that man who was so panicked and had looked at him with a pleading expression. He held his gun. The touch of the weapon made him feel safer. The guards and prisoners in Guantรก Guantรกnamo could hear the thunder emerging from Louis room. Louis Tyson, honoured soldier and first in his training group, had found the way to be free from that pleading look in the barrel of his gun.

Poor Rich Man By Alicia Malde GarcĂ­a

-‘Look! A second of mine is worth 200 dollars, if we multiply it by 60, that makes 12,000 dollars, and if we say 15 minutes that would make 180,000, do you think I can ever lose a quarter of an hour of my time?’ -‘I was just asking if you’d like to have a coffee with us?’ Damn slackers. Don’t you understand the importance of time?. It’s a weakness that poor people have, they understand nothing about economy. When you are the Director of a large company like mine, you learn that every second counts and, of course, you aren’t going to waste your time having coffee with your own weak employees. I left the building late, as always. Then, I saw them there, in a tiny terrace, spending their earnings as if there were no better investment. From behind the glass, I listened to part of their conversation: -‘What a fool, the boss is!. I even invite him to have coffee with us and he gives me a little speech!’ -‘Don’t take it seriously, you know how he is… Deep down I even feel pity for him, he probably lives alone in a huge house because nobody can stand him…’

But the truth is that although at that moment I tried to convince myself of the opposite,, his words hurt me. I saw a young woman sitting on a corner. She was shivering with cold and she was very dirty and thin. She probably hadn’t eaten anything all day… I imagined what living that way would be like, without a fire to heat your hands nor a small piece of bread to eat while I had food to eat and food in the fridge but nobody to share it with….. Then, all of a sudden an absurd idea came to my mind. What if I hosted that young lady in my house? Yes, it was risky, and it would probably make me lose a lot of time but, anyhow, I was more alone than her, I couldn’t remember the last time I had done something good for somebody. -‘What’s your name, madam?’ – I asked her. She looked at me, amazed, remained silent and, then, whispered. -‘Anita Perkins’. -‘Well, Anita, today is your lucky day. I’ve decided to host you in my house as a guest’. She looked at me, her eyes wide open, but nevertheless she stood up and followed me.

-When we were already in my flat, I lent her a pair of my pyjamas. She had a shower and, afterwards, we shared some macaroni which she devoured. As soon as she finished, she looked at me, as if scrutinizing me, and inquired: -‘Why are you doing this?’ -‘You see, this flat is very large, enormous. All the furniture is first class, the 45’’ TV and it’s all completely soundproof. But, I have to open the window many nights to let the sound of the street come in, the people laughing, the noise of the cars; so as not to feel so lonely’. And I was amazed when she stood up, wished me goodnight, and kissed me on the cheek. I must say that she changed my life totally. My usual frown became a permanent smile, I treated my employees better, as if we were equal, and even like friends. We started to breathe a better atmosphere in my company, and everything seemed to be working better than ever. I spent all day wishing I could go home just to be with Anita, who apparently had turned my life around.

The weeks went by that way, without us taking any notice of it and, without any planning, something that I had never thought could happen took place: I fell in love with her. Then, one day, as we were playing cards, she uttered: -‘Cliff, dear, I know you’ve done a lot for me and I don’t have the right to ask for anything else, but would you do just one more thing for me?’ -‘Yes, of course, what would you like me to do?’ -‘You see… Before you met me, and even before becoming a beggar, I was engaged to a man. He was tall, handsome and tender, his name was Ryan and he was a soldier. But, one day, he had to leave for a mission in Iraq and, as soon as he left, his mum, who had never been fond of me, forced me to leave, she threatened me until I eventually left. It was at that moment when I got lost in the streets of New York. But he must have come back, so… Could you please go to his mum’s house, learn if he is there and bring him back here so that, at least, I can talk to him?’ -‘Promised’. That word stuck like a dart directly in my chest. But even so, I consented.

I was driving to the house in my car, several kilometres from town, while a little voice kept whispering in my mind: ‘You’ve already lost a lot of money for her, and now this trip will make you waste several millions, as it will take you about an hour to get there and one more to come back, and that without taking into account the time you’ll spend there talking… and all because of what?, because of a feeling?. You’re a weak man, you’ve become like those you used to scorn, she’s made you become Mr. nobody’. But I ignored that voice. Would I be making a bad choice? Even though she was just a friend she had made me so happy that I would risk anything for her. I arrived there. It was a small sorry-looking sight. I realised I could come back, tell her that he had died and keep her for me forever, but the very thought of seeing just a tear on her cheeks made me change my mind. I rang the bell. A handsome tall man, as she had described him, opened the door.

-Who are you?’ -‘Hello, I’m Clifford Mills. Are you Ryan?’ -‘Yes, it’s me, why?’ -‘You see, I’m a friend of your fiancé, Anita, and she’s asked me to come here to tell you to come to New York with me and see her’. -‘Anita? My mother told me that she had died!. Yes, of course, I’ll come with you’. During the trip, he was telling me his story with Anita. Imagining her in the arms of another made me want to cry, but if he had made her happy, he deserved all my respect. When they met each other, they hugged for a long time. They went out for dinner or something of that sort. I stayed there, alone, looking at the clock, wondering when they would come back. When she got home, she sat by my side and told me: -‘Cliff, I thank you kindly what you’ve done for me. But, I’m leaving with Ryan, we’re going to try and begin a new life together.You’re a good man, you’ll find a woman who will love you soon and you’ll get married and will live a happy life’.

And, then, I found the courage to tell her: -‘Yes, Anita, but put yourself in my place. There will be many women who may be better than you, more intelligent, prettier or whatever, but none of them will make my heart want to burst out of my chest when they smile, and they won’t make my skin stand on end when their hand brushes mine , they won’t make my world stop when they hug me. Simply, they won’t be you, because I love you, Anita, I’ve never loved anybody as I love you and I never will’. She stared at me, her eyes wide open. Without whispering a single word, she left for her room. The following morning, her belongings weren’t there any more. Everything was so empty without her… I sat on that enormous sofa which used to dominate the living room and started to cry like a child. Life was no worth without her. Now, that she had left, nothing had meaning. I was sure that no matter how long it went by, I wouldn’t be able to forget her, and I wouldn’t be able to fall in love again. And, then, I remembered the gun that I had in my bedside table, and made a decision.

Anita was at the station with Ryan, waiting for the train that would take them to a place where they could live together. Even though she had been dreaming of that for a long time, Clifford’s words kept echoing in her mind: …none will make my heart want to burst out of my chest when they smile…’ ‘…they won’t make my world stop when they hug me…’ ‘…they won’t be you…’ She looked at the man that was standing by her side, the one she had thought was her Prince Charming, the one who was the closest to perfection that existed and, then, she realised something: as wonderful as it could be, she didn’t love him. She took her suitcase and started to run and, although she could hear Ryan calling her, she didn’t turn around. She got to that luxurious building and she climbed up the stairs all in a hurry. When she was about to come in, she heard a shot. -‘Clifford!’- she shouted. She came in quickly, almost knocking the door down.

-‘Clifford! Where are you? Please, don’t do this to me…’ And then, she saw him. He was lying on the balcony, gun in hand, and lots of blood all around. With her eyes in tears, she took his hand and noticed that his pulse was still beating. She called an ambulance and, as they were carrying him away, she saw him open his eyes. -‘Clifford! Clifford, listen to me, don’t you die, stay with me, will you? I love you, I love you, stay, please…’ He smiled. How could he leave now that she was there by his side?


Empathy related texts for the second year:

-Busy Nights -The New One -Which People are Really Dangerous? -A Long Way! -Do You Remember…? -Carla’s worries -The Doctor -Autumn Song

Busy Nights By Alberto Vargas Fraga

Robber Thief was a professional thief . He stole almost all kind of things but he was so skillful that nobody had ever caught him. So he used to live a normal life, and he looked as if he were a normal trader. It didn’t mind if he stole a lot or stole a little, Robber had never worried too much about his victims; but all changed when somebody stole in his own house That was the last thing he would have imagined, but when he didn’t find most of his things, and he saw everything upside down, he went crazy, and ran furious to the police station. And being such a big thief, as he entered the police station, he felt a tremendous allergy, his skin filled with a goose bump and he started to feel a rash all over his body. Ow! What a rage he felt at being robbed, when he was the true thief in the neighbourhood! Robber started to suspect everyone. Could it be Thomas,

the baker? How could he know that he used to steal two cakes every Sunday? And what about Emily, who had found out that he had been stealing the flowers from her window for years and now she had decided to avenge Robber? And kept suspecting everyone to a point that Robber saw a thief behind every smile and every greeting. After many days hardly sleeping because of the rage, Robber started to become calmer and forget what happened. But his calm didn’t last: the following night, they return to rob him while he slept. Seeing red, he returned to speak to the police, and seeing his insistence on catching the person responsible, they proposed to install a camera in his house to catch the thief red-handed. It was an ultra modern camera that was still in trial, capable of activating itself with sounds from the thief, and following him until his headquarters.

Some nights passed by before the thief returned again. But one morning very early the inspector called Robber excited: rding o c e r e h t e e ly to s -‘Come quick ief!’ h t e h t t h g u e’ve ca W ! r e b b o R . r M

Robber jumped out of his bed and flew to the police station. As soon as he came in, ten police men grabbed and handcuffed him, whilst the rest couldn’t stop laughing around the TV. On the screen you could see Robber Thief sleepwalking, robbing himself, and hiding all the things in the same place where he had kept everything he had stolen from his neighbours over the years.. as many years as he’ll have to stay in prison. All of a sudden he felt himself the victim and the criminal, with no escape on either side!

The New One By Sara Vellรณn Carneiro

Joe was 13 years old. He wasn't born in the village. He and his parents were from New York. They settled in the old house that is at the end of the street. The neighbours say, they bought the house to escape the stress of the big city. They have been repairing the house for 15 days and the truth is that the house looks very nice now. Joe still doesn't understand Spanish, and much less Galician. On the first day at school he was lost and lonely. He doesn't understand anything and he doesn't know anyone. Xoån, the English teacher introduced him to us. The teacher put him in front of all of us in class and one by one we were saying our name, our hobbies, etc., in his language. He didn’t say anything. I guessed it would be because he felt embarrassment. When we finished our introduction, he sat at the desk that is on my right. -Hola- I told him

He didn't answer me. -Hello - I insisted, but, this time, in his language. After looking at me, he smiled and returned the greeting to me. But he kept his mouth close for the rest of the class. During the break, after taking my sandwich as every day, I saw him alone, near the soccer field. I approached him. He looked at me and said "I don't know anybody". "Me llamo Manuel. Ahora ya conoces a alguien"... "Excuse me, my name is Manuel. And. now, you already know someone", I answered. Five years ago, I was the new kid in the village. I knew exactly what he was thinking in his mind, and how lonely and sad a person feels when he has to move to another place, far away from what once was home and far away from friends.

Which People Are Really Dangerous? By Lois Rico Ocampo

Every day that I come home from the school I see a penniless person begging for money. Normally, when I see him I feel disturbed and I walk away from him, but I still feel sad especially when I notice that he hasn't got any cash in his basket. When I arrive home, I stop thinking about him. One day, I was in bed and I couldn't sleep. I woke up for a moment to drink a glass of water and I called my parents to complain about my bed because I used to think that the bed was too hard to sleep in. When I came back to the bed, I felt very comfortable and I thought: ‘How would I feel if I were the beggar in the corner? He hasn't got anything to sleep in.’ Then, I was ashamed of my behavior of walking away from him. The next day before going to school, I took ten pounds and when I saw the beggar I gave him the money.

Within time he and I became friends and I usually talk with him, six months later I asked him about his situation and why he was on the street. He told me that he was a completely different person three years before. He had a job in a bank, but after the crisis started his boss sold the bank to another company, and that company sent half of the workers to the streets. He couldn’t pay for his house so he lost it although he was still paying for it. I got frightened by the story. My dad currently works in a bank and the beggar that seemed like he was from another world could be my father. I told the story to my parents and they invited him to our house to live there before he could find a job. Now I don’t walk away from beggars and other people on the street, I walk away from bankers and other people with suits.

A Long Way! By Jessica Martínez Ferreño

Three years ago on a visit to Santiago de Compostela, my father broke his right leg while he was playing with me and my brother. He had a very tough rehabilitation after surgery and he was unable to return to work for about eight months.

When my fa ther broke h is leg I was his side, an at d I could se e h o w standing, w he was ith a part of his leg dan and I'll neve gling, r forget his fa ce in pain w they lifted h hen im up into th e ambulance took him to that hospital. After surge ry and reha bilitation, he began a pe riod in whic h h e had t o using crutch walk es, becaus e every tim his right foo e he put t on the gro und, it hurt. two months After , my father stopped us and started ing them walking with out help, sta physical tra rting ining in ord e r to regain th muscle tone e he had befo re the accid ent.

I saw him suffer every time he stood up to begin muscle training (walking, running, etc ...), which made me very sad, as it must have been very painful.

Currently, he’s fully recovered , and usually goes ru nning. The inju ry in his leg does not preve nt him from le ading the life he had before . During his re covery, he used to go to the gym every day to exercise his m uscles, runnin g on a treadmill and d oing stretching muscle exercises. He was very pers istent in his recovery, whic h makes him a great fighter, and I am prou d to be his dau ghter.

Do You Remember…? By Víctor Páez

-Do you remember when we were 15 years old ? When we went out in the streets every day, and you complained about the elderly people that walked slowly and didn't let you pass.-Yes I remember it. - You always said that the old people shouldn't walk on the same pavement as the rest of people, and that they shouldn't go out after certain hours, you even said that they shouldn't leave the house. You joked about them, you lacked respect when they spoke to you or simply ignored them. You didn't want to visit your grandparents because you said that they were ‘boring old people’ and didn't show any love towards them.

ilent. s d e n i a en rem m 2 e h t t men an ? e m u o y For a mo o - What d

- Now you are someone who isn't exactly a teenager, now you're that type of person that you always hated. Now you're someone who suffers despite and lack of respect daily by the children. With this I mean to ask you rather than say "How do you feel when someone doesn't appreciate you? How do you feel when someone in the street looks at you with hate for not letting them pass? How do you feel when your grandchildren come to visit you obliged because they don't really want to?

en Again the 2 m nt for remained sile s. some minute

- Everybody deserves to be respected equally without taking into account age. Because, you can be young but not forever.

Carla’s Worries By Paloma Sánchez Graña

Carla was a typical and ordinary girl, but she was tired of so much pain. Problems troubled her, not her problems so much, but the problems of the people that surrounded her. She listened to people and thought of a solution for their problems. But, it couldn’t go on like this, now, as those problems were influencing her as if they were her own and they were causing a great inner pain. One day, Carla was with a friend and, as usual, began to talk to her about her problems. But, this day, it was different, considering that Carla had many things in her mind (to think about) and her friend by telling her problems to her in search for help only made Carla more shattered. That day Carla remained strong and listened to her friend’s problems in order to give her some advice. Like always, she listened to the problem, put herself in the place of her friend and, after that, offered a solution to the problem.

And that is what she did! That very same day, when she arrived at her house, she was so tired, that she began to cry. Minutes later, a friend arrived at her house to see her. She asked her what happened and Carla didn't know what to reply and thinking about the question, she answered, ‘What is happening to me is that everybody has problems and I try to listen and give my advice about what they must do but, actually, those problems are affecting me’. To which her friend replied, ‘Now I’m going to put myself in your place, like you do so many times with the rest, and I’m going to say to you that if I were you I would begin to be concerned about myself and I’d worry about my own problems instead of being concerned about the rest so much. It is very good that you worry about other people, that you put yourself in their place and that you try to help them, but you can't allow that their problems to affect you as if they were yours, because your life is yours and it doesn´t belong to anybody else’.

After listening to her friend’s answer, Carla understood it is very good to help people but you can't allow their problems to affect your life, because if you let other people’s problems affect you as if they were yours, the only thing you get is feeling bad as well. So, from that day onwards, Carla learnt to separate the problems of the rest from her own problems and she understood she can keep on putting herself in other people’s place and understand how they feel but without letting those problems interfere with her life so much.

The Doctor By Alicia Malde GarcĂ­a

A few years ago, while I was recovering from an accident, I met a person I will never forget. My first day in hospital was awful. I did not know any of those people who were surrounding me. Everyone was looking at me with a puzzled expression and I still did not know why. They spoke of something I didn't understand, with strange names and acted as if I was not there, like a puppet that they could play and experiment on. Things did not change in the following week. They kept treating me like I was asleep. They manipulated me and ignored me at the same time. I was a stranger to all of them, something I didn't know I was or had intended to be. It was just part of a process that they had to do. They did not learn my name neither did they care. Some used to say, the girl with the leg, others, the girl's accident. Everyone was talking about me as if I was already dead, and I tried to show that I was not, but was unable. I couldn't utter a word, no words came out of me, so I felt like a wimp. Not able to express

myself, without the possibility of expressing my feelings about what I wanted to do. And…, nothing changed until he arrived. He was a new doctor, a young man who was on a training programme. He was the least experienced of all those who had been at my side, and yet was the only one who managed to heal me. The first thing he said was: -‘Hi Carrie’. I wondered how he could know my name and continued listening. -‘We've done some testing and it seems that everything is fine, but nonetheless we’ll repeat them tomorrow, so do not worry if you're back in the machine, it's just to check. Everything will be fine, Carrie’. Without knowing anything that doctor's words saved me. Day after day, he came to my room, talked to me, rather, he talked and I answered in my head. Nothing had improved in me since the day when I entered the hospital

until I met him. My muscles reacted as soon as I saw him and a smile filled my face. The lack of compassion of the other doctors was comparable to the vitality of that man. After two months at his side, I had recovered almost completely. And all thanks to him‌.

Autumn Song By Pablo Torres ParĂ­s


• • • • • • • • • • • •

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

• • • • • • • • • • •

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 José Ángel Galán Tosar Miguel Ortega Souto

Special thanks to Kate Cousins, our language assistant in 20122013 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

• • • •

Most of the symbols included in the book are typical Celtic ones, belonging to the ancient culture in our region. They were taken from some free web sites but we can’t remember their names and we are sorry for that.Thanks to them for their help providing these useful materials for free. We’ve used them with the intention of confering some kind of personality to the stories and in order to show a little bit of our own culture to the people who may read this.

IWEY e-book 2 2011-2012/2012-2013

Profile for María del Carmen Torres Rodríguez

Comenius project IWEY. E-book 2.  

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

Comenius project IWEY. E-book 2.  

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