Դեկտեմբերի 12-ից 16-ը

Դաս առաջին
Դասարանական աշխատանք-If, First conditional, 1, 2, 3
Տնային առաջադրանք-Make up 3 sentences using “first conditional”.

1.I’ll do my lessons, if my mother gives me my iPad.

2.She’ll go bed, if she finish her work.

3.We’ll go to the walk, if the clima be good.

Դաս երկրորդ
Տնային առաջադրանք-Make up 5 sentences with “when” and 5 sentences with “while”.

1.When are you going to check my answers?
2.When do you want to learn English?
3.When does she go to America?
4.When do you do your homework?
5.When does he go to sleep?   
1.While I go to school, my mother goes to the work.
2.While you sleep I make your sandwiches.
3.While teacher goes out from the classroom the children stay noisy.
4.While I work on my homework I play games at the same time.
5.I do my homework while my brother plays game.

Speak about your duties

My duties

To do homework

To go to school

To wake up early in the morning

To listen teachers listen to

To clean my room

To load computer

To sleep at 11.00 o’clock (to go to bed)

Tell about your hobbies and interests

I have a lot of interests and hobbies. My hobbies are reading, watching TV, playing computer games, travelling and do experiments. I love do experiments I do experiments every day.

Is it necessary to choose homework? Write your opinion

Hello. I’m Ann and I chose homework from all subjects. I think  we must choose homework, because when we do homework we don’t forget our class work..


Again under my window, a wandering singer
sings a sad song I've heard long ago;
sings as if I wrote that song for the singer; 
sings as if I wept that song for the singer;
sings as if I walk down the street with yearning, 
singing the song and only to you.


I love your dark and wicked eyes, as deep
as the mysterious evening is deep, and dark
as the spell that dusk casts. I love the vast
seascape of your eyes where sin
hesitates like twilight before flickering past
where luck and chance have been.
I love your eyes, their drunken golden haze,
eyes that magnetize the lost like wordless beams
and torture the soul with their pitiless
caress. I love their dark and mysterious depths.


When you're sated, weighted down and tired of fate,
you can always turn, turn back again,
to the heart, like yours, that's racked with pain
but where the walls still echo with your name.

When good fortune brightens up your road with light,
and clinging strangers spring up left and right,
someone will be happy but wary of fickle fame,
still hoping that you turn, return again.

But if fate hardens your heart and turns your head
so you cannot feel delight and you forget
what it is to love, someone will mourn your loss,
but can do nothing more. Do not return. You're lost.

(Walking toward and past me)

Light is failing, night is falling.
House to house the dark comes calling.
A stranger walks toward me, alone,
her face familiar as my own.

As in fairy tales, the fountain dances
beside us, blessing our passing glances.
Her calm gait, her rhythmic stride
continue into what I write.

Fate's gift: this moment occurs,
luminous and without words
like a scene from a romance
but just a small happenstance.


You are going, sad and wordless,
I don't know where,
like a morning star fading into blue air.

I am going, alone, aimless,
on the thoroughfare
like abandoned paper blowing unaware.

You are going, hiding from me
tears from a damaged heart.

And I'm knowing, uncomplaining,
this is death's path we start.