Lesson 24. The Passive Voice

Chapter 11 - The Almost‑Disaster Presentation

Chapter Vocabulary

unusually	excepcionalmente
presentation	presentación
to schedule	programar
flicker	parpadear
projector	proyector
exposed	expuesto
steady	estable, firme
to settle	instalar
to describe	describir
thoughtful	reflexivo, pensativo
material	material
to describe	describir
presence	presencia
to fail	fallar
to form (a line/group)	formar
attention	atención

Story

Listen to the story

The classroom felt unusually still when Ana, Alejandro, Mia, and Kenji walked in with their notes and printed slides. Their presentation was scheduled first, and the quiet before class made every sound feel sharper—the shuffle of papers, the hum of the lights, the soft tapping of students settling into their seats.

Ms. Carter smiled at them. “Whenever you’re ready.”

They connected the laptop to the projector. The screen flickered once, then went dark.

Alejandro pressed a few keys. Nothing changed.

Kenji checked the cable. Still nothing.

Mia whispered, “It worked yesterday.”

Ana felt her heartbeat rise. “Maybe it’s just warming up.”

But then Ms. Carter stepped closer, tested the power button, and shook her head gently.

“I’m afraid the projector isn’t working,” she said. “It looks like it was damaged recently.”

A quiet tension settled over the group. Their entire presentation had been built around images—photographs of the city, sketches, maps, and the question that tied everything together: What makes Vancouver feel alive?

For a moment, no one spoke.

Then Ana took a slow breath. “We can still do this,” she said softly. “We know the material.”

Mia nodded. “If the slides can’t be shown, we can describe them.”

Kenji added, “And we can read the parts that were written on the screen.”

Alejandro looked at the blank wall. “Let’s start.”

They stood at the front of the room, the four of them forming a quiet line. Without the projector, the space felt larger, more exposed. But Ana stepped forward, steady.

“Our presentation is about the question,” she began, “What makes Vancouver feel alive?”

Mia continued. “We had chosen images of the city—the markets, the forests, the ocean. Since they can’t be shown, we’ll describe what we saw.”

Kenji spoke next. “One of the photos was taken at dawn. The mountains were covered in soft light, and the city felt like it was waking slowly.”

Alejandro added, “Another image showed the rain on the seawall. The path was empty, but the water was moving, steady and bright.”

As they spoke, the room grew quiet—not with tension, but with attention. Without the images, their words carried more weight. Their voices painted the scenes instead.

Ana described the languages she heard on the bus.

Mia described the colours of Granville Island.

Kenji described the forests that felt ancient.

Alejandro described the ocean that felt like a constant presence.

By the time they finished, the silence in the room felt full, not empty.

Ms. Patel smiled. “Thank you,” she said. “Your presentation was thoughtful and clear. The projector may have failed, but your teamwork didn’t.”

A soft warmth spread through Ana’s chest. The disaster they had feared had become something else—something quieter, more honest.

As they returned to their seats, Alejandro whispered, “We did it.”

Ana nodded. “Yes. Even without the slides.”

Outside, the afternoon light filtered through the windows, steady and calm. The crisis had passed, and something stronger had taken its place.