2019年小学六年级英语辅导语言抬高移民门槛英语成为拦路虎.doc

2019年小学六年级英语辅导语言抬高移民门槛英语成为拦路虎近日，据英国媒体报道，关于外来移民英语能力测试政策在英国国内引起热议。调查显示，各类移民纷纷被英语标准吓退，英语成为移民的拦路虎。语言标准升级自英国引入移民计分制以来，所有非欧盟移民申请工作类签证、学生签证等都必须达到相关的英文要求。年11月29日以后，英国内政部又规定，所有申请配偶签证的申请人必须通过相关语言测试。此外，英国越来越多的技术职业，如医疗健康、财务会计、金融投资等，也普遍提高行业英语成绩要求。不仅英国，其他国家也不断提高移民语言水平标准。澳大利亚今年7月1日起施行的普通技术移民技术打分系统，要求雅思达到4个7分才可以加10分，达不到6分就不能申请移民。欧盟移民委员会法令规定，从年12月9日开始，非欧共体移民在其成员国内申请长期居留必须参加所在国的语言测试。加拿大在语言能力要求上更为严格：去年3月，联邦移民部颁布“关于移民申请人语言能力证明”的规定，要求申请人在递交移民申请时，需要同时提交语言能力证明，并只有一次提交语言能力证明的机会，一旦移民申请遭否决，将不会有第二次呈交语言能力证明的机会。移民政策收紧多数国家的官方机构称，语言要求之所以被列为移民的重要门槛，是为了使外来移民更快地融入所在国。语言是人与人沟通的重要工具。如果不能熟练地掌握所在国语言，外来移民在当地的生活、学习、工作都将受到很大限制。比如，在工作上，因为语言水平有限，一些人只能从事低端的体力劳动，失业风险增大；由于语言障碍，少数族裔进入当地主流社会也格外困难。加拿大华裔政府雇员曾表示，很多华裔由于英语或法语不够流利，即使成为政府公务员，在职位晋升上也缺乏优势。另有分析称，语言要求标准的提高，其背后原因在于各国正不断收紧的移民政策。法国劳工与卫生部长格扎维埃贝特朗曾表示，为了给法国当地的失业者创造更多的就业机会，打击非法移民，减少合法移民人数是可行的。而英国因金融危机的冲击，本土经济受到很大影响，为保护本地劳工，英国政府大幅度提高非欧盟国家人员进入英国的门槛。在移民政策风声渐紧的趋势下，提高外来移民的语言门槛则在意料之中。细节备受争议看似合情合理的语言要求政策，在现实面前却显示出诸多不妥。关于要求配偶入籍需达到一定语言要求的规定，有观点称，其实质是“嫌贫爱富”的表现，因为生活在相对贫穷落后地区的人们，受教育程度低，外语能力也比较弱，但每个人都有结婚和组建家庭的权利，过高的语言标准对“贫穷”的人的影响最大。对于在所在国已工作多年的人来说，他们已经具备了应付日常工作的语言能力，而为了申请永久居留权，还要通过语言水平考试，实在是多此一举。此外，政府对移民的语言能力做出更高的要求使得最后取得居留权的人，文化水平高，不会屈身于从事餐饮、服装加工等低端行业，这就限制了相关行业引入充足的劳动力，动荡少数族裔，特别是华人，在当地的根基产业。提高语言要求的政策，在某些细节上也备受争议。设立语言考试标准、组织相关考试势必付出更多的人力、物力，如在瑞士的入籍程序中设置一个语言考试，至少需要250瑞士法郎，再加上语言课、语言水平分析的费用，按照瑞士的人工，则不可小觑。舆论对此表示出质疑：耗费如此多的劳务经费来设立语言藩篱是否划算。CHAPTER 1Ours is essentially a tragic age， so we refuse to take it tragically. The cataclysm has happened， we are among the ruins， we start to build up new little habitats， to have new little hopes. It is rather hard work： there is now no smooth road into the future： but we go round， or scramble over the obstacles. Weve got to live， no matter how many skies have fallen. This was more or less Constance Chatterleys position. The war had brought the roof down over her head. And she had realized that one must live and learn.She married Clifford Chatterley in 1917， when he was home for a month on leave. They had a months honeymoon. Then he went back to Flanders： to be shipped over to England again six months later， more or less in bits. Constance， his wife， was then twenty-three years old， and he was twenty-nine.His hold on life was marvellous. He didnt die， and the bits seemed to grow together again. For two years he remained in the doctors hands. Then he was pronounced a cure， and could return to life again， with the lower half of his body， from the hips down， paralysed for ever.This was in 1920. They returned， Clifford and Constance， to his home， Wragby Hall， the family seat. His father had died， Clifford was now a baronet， Sir Clifford， and Constance was Lady Chatterley. They came to start housekeeping and married life in the rather forlorn home of the Chatterleys on a rather inadequate ine. Clifford had a sister， but she had departed. Otherwise there were no near relatives. The elder brother was dead in the war. Crippled for ever， knowing he could never have any children， Clifford came home to the smoky Midlands to keep the Chatterley name alive while he could.He was not really downcast. He could wheel himself about in a wheeled chair， and he had a bath-chair with a small motor attachment， so he could drive himself slowly round the garden and into the line melancholy park， of which he was really so proud， though he pretended to be flippant about it.Having suffered so much， the capacity for suffering had to some extent left him. He remained strange and bright and cheerful， almost， one might say， chirpy， with his ruddy， healthy-looking face， arid his pale-blue， challenging bright eyes. His shoulders were broad and strong， his hands were very strong. He was expensively dressed， and wore handsome neckties from Bond Street. Yet still in his face one saw the watchful look， the slight vacancy of a cripple.He had so very nearly lost his life， that what remained was wonderfully precious to him. It was obvious in the anxious brightness of his eyes， how proud he was， after the great shock， of being alive. But he had been so much hurt that something inside him had perished， some of his feelings had gone. There was a blank of insentience.Constance， his wife， was a ruddy， country-looking girl with soft brown hair and sturdy body， and slow movements， full of unusual energy. She had big， wondering eyes， and a soft mild voice， and seemed just to have e from her native village. It was not so at all. Her father was the once well-known R. A.， old Sir Malcolm Reid. Her mother had been one of the cultivated Fabians in the palmy， rather pre-Raphaelite days. Between artists and cultured socialists， Constance and her sister Hilda had had what might be called an aesthetically unconventional upbringing. They had been taken to Paris and Florence and Rome to breathe in art， and they had been taken also in the other direction， to the Hague and Berlin， to great Socialist conventions， where the speakers spoke in every civilized tongue， and no one was abashed.The two girls， therefore， were from an early age not the least daunted by either art or ideal politics. It was their natural atmosphere. They were at once cosmopolitan and provincial， with the cosmopolitan provincialism of art that goes with pure social ideals.They had been sent to Dresden at the age of fifteen， for music among other things. And they had had a good time there. They lived freely among the students， they argued with the men over philosophical， sociological and artistic matters， they were just as good as the men themselves： only better， since they were women. And they tramped off to the forests with sturdy youths bearing guitars， twang-twang！ They sang the Wandervogel songs， and they were free. Free！ That was the great word. Out in the open world， out in the forests of the morning， with lusty and splendid-throated young fellows， free to do as they liked， andabove allto say what they liked. It was the talk that mattered supremely： the impassioned interchange of talk. Love was only a minor acpaniment.