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Las partes 5 a 8 del C1 Advanced: multiple choice, cross-text matching, gapped text y multiple matching, con método y un ejercicio resuelto.
Las partes 5 a 8 del C1 Advanced son las de lectura pura: 26 preguntas y algo más de la mitad del tiempo. Aquí tienes qué pide cada una, el método y un ejercicio completo de la parte 5, que es la que abre el bloque.
| Parte | Qué te piden | Preguntas | Lo que la hace difícil |
|---|---|---|---|
| 5 · Multiple choice | Un texto largo con preguntas de cuatro opciones. | 6 | Las opciones falsas dicen algo que el texto también dice, pero que no responde a la pregunta. |
| 6 · Cross-text matching | Cuatro textos cortos de distintos autores y preguntas sobre en qué coinciden o discrepan. | 4 | No basta con entender cada texto: hay que comparar opiniones entre ellos. |
| 7 · Gapped text | Colocar seis párrafos que faltan en un texto largo. | 6 | Son párrafos enteros, no frases. Hay que seguir el hilo del argumento. |
| 8 · Multiple matching | Un texto en secciones y diez preguntas del tipo ¿en qué sección se dice esto? | 10 | El tiempo. Es la última y la gente llega agotada. |
No las hagas en orden. Empieza por la 8, que es mecánica y se resuelve buscando; sigue por la 5, que es la que más concentración pide; y deja la 7 para cuando ya conozcas el estilo del texto. La 6 es la más corta y se puede hacer en cualquier momento.
| Paso | Qué hacer |
|---|---|
| 1 | Lee el texto entero antes de mirar ninguna pregunta. |
| 2 | Lee la pregunta sin las opciones y contéstala con tus palabras. |
| 3 | Ahora busca cuál de las cuatro dice eso mismo. Si ninguna, vuelve al texto. |
| 4 | Descarta las que dicen algo verdadero pero que no responde. Esa es la trampa favorita del C1. |
| 5 | Las preguntas van en orden: la 1 al principio del texto y la última al final. |
Why we remember things that never happened
In the 1990s a psychologist asked a group of volunteers to recall four childhood events described to them by their families. Three were real. The fourth, in which the volunteer had got lost in a shopping centre at the age of five, had been invented. By the end of the study a quarter of the participants remembered the invented event, and several of them added details nobody had supplied: the colour of the shop, the face of the man who helped them.
The finding is usually reported as evidence that memory is unreliable, which is true but not especially interesting. What matters more is why the errors take the shape they do. Memory does not work like a recording that degrades; it works like a story that gets retold. Each time we recall something we rebuild it, and each rebuild borrows material from whatever we have learned since.
That is not a flaw so much as a design choice. A system that stored every detail faithfully would be expensive to run and largely useless, because the point of remembering is to predict, not to archive. Reconstruction is what lets the brain generalise, and generalising is what allows a child bitten once by a dog to be cautious around all dogs.
The uncomfortable part is that confidence and accuracy come apart. In the shopping-centre study the invented memories were often described with more emotion than the real ones. Witnesses in court are believed largely in proportion to how sure they sound, and sureness turns out to measure how often a memory has been rehearsed, not how well it matches what actually happened.
Elige la opción correcta.
Lee el texto y elige la mejor respuesta.
The lighthouse keeper who kept writing
Between 1931 and 1958, Alastair Munro kept the light on a rock eleven miles off the Scottish coast, and every evening he wrote a letter to his sister in Glasgow. The letters were posted in batches whenever the relief boat came, sometimes six weeks apart, and she kept all of them. There are two thousand one hundred and forty.
They are not, on the whole, interesting letters. Munro describes the weather at length, records what he ate, notes the ships that passed and occasionally complains about the paraffin. He almost never writes about himself. Historians who came looking for the psychology of isolation have gone away disappointed, and one of them described the collection, unkindly but not inaccurately, as the world longest weather report.
Yet the letters have turned out to matter, for reasons Munro could not have anticipated. Because he recorded sea conditions daily, from the same point, with the same instruments, for twenty seven years, oceanographers now use his descriptions to check nineteenth and twentieth century models of storm frequency in the North Atlantic. Two doctoral theses have been written from them.
His sister, Jean, replied to almost every letter, and none of her letters survives. Munro burned them, along with everything else that would burn, during the winter of 1947, when the relief boat could not reach the rock for nine weeks and the coal ran out. He mentions this once, in a single sentence, between a note about a damaged handrail and a description of a gannet.