CELPIP Speaking Samples: All 8 Tasks

Lucien, I've been thinking about what you told me, and honestly, I don't think you have to choose between the old way and the new way. Let me explain what I mean.

To start with, keep using the branch on the days it's open, at least for now. Paying your bills in person has worked for you for years, so there's no reason to drop it overnight. What I'd do is pick just one bill, maybe the hydro bill, and learn to pay that one online. Once you're comfortable, you can add another.

As for the phone, please don't rush out and spend five or six hundred dollars. When an older neighbour in my last building started banking online, he used a tablet instead, and he could make the text nice and large. You could probably find a basic one for much less than a new phone, or your daughter might have an old one lying around.

Now, the scams — that's a fair worry, and it shows good sense. The golden rule is simple: your bank will never text you asking for your password. If something feels off, hang up and call the number on the back of your card.

Finally, why not let your daughter walk you through it on a video call? That way she'll feel less worried, and you'll have someone patient to ask. And of course, you can always knock on my door.

So this was during my second year of college in Winnipeg, near the end of a really tight month. My part-time hours had been cut, and I had about eighteen dollars left until payday. Of course, that was the weekend my friend Leila said she'd drop by after her shift. When I opened the fridge, all I had was half a bag of potatoes, two eggs, an onion, some wilted spinach and a block of cheese. My first thought was to just cancel, because I was kind of embarrassed. But then I remembered my grandmother used to say an empty pantry is where real cooking starts. So I sliced the potatoes thin, fried them with the onion, poured the eggs over and folded in the spinach and cheese, basically a Spanish-style tortilla. I spent four dollars on a baguette to go with it. Leila had seconds and didn't suspect a thing. It taught me that being resourceful matters more than having a full fridge.

You picked a scorching day to ask — the beach is packed and everyone's melting. The sun's hazy, the lake's flat and calm, but dark clouds are piling up on the horizon.

On the left, there's a man in his sixties in a yellow T-shirt wrestling with a beach umbrella. The wind keeps tilting it, and he looks fed up. Nearby, an older woman in a pink sun hat is fanning herself in a folding chair; she looks worn out.

In the middle, a boy in red swim trunks is dashing toward the water, leaving an open bag of chips on his towel, and a seagull's creeping up to it. A little girl in a purple swimsuit is proudly patting her sandcastle, while a teenage boy in a white tank top runs backward toward it, trying to catch a flying disc.

On the right, a couple's arguing beside their cooler, and the man's holding up an empty water bottle. Behind them, the lifeguard on her tall chair is frowning at those clouds.

I think this beach is going to get a lot more chaotic in the next few minutes.

First, that boy in red swim trunks has left his chips wide open on his towel, and the seagull's creeping up to the bag. By the time he gets back from the water, I bet half of them will be gone. In the middle, the teenage boy is backpedalling to catch the flying disc without looking behind him, so he'll probably crash into the little girl's sandcastle, and she'll be heartbroken.

On top of that, it's windy — you can tell because the man in the yellow T-shirt can barely keep his umbrella upright. I'd say it'll blow over any second. That also fits with the dark clouds on the horizon. The lifeguard already has her whistle at her lips, so she'll most likely call everyone out of the water before the storm rolls in. As for the couple arguing by the cooler, I imagine one of them will head off to find more water.

Juliette, I totally get why you'd suggest the college clinic. Sixty dollars a visit is hard to beat, and you obviously had a good experience there. But when I looked at the details, Brightwater still makes more sense for me.

The biggest issue is time. A cleaning at the college takes around three hours, and they're only open on weekdays until three. Since I don't finish work until four-thirty, I'd have to take an unpaid afternoon off, which would probably cancel out whatever I'd save. Brightwater, on the other hand, has evening appointments on Tuesdays and Thursdays, plus Saturdays, so I wouldn't miss a minute of work.

The other thing is that the college only does cleanings. I'd still have to find a dentist for the actual checkup, so I'd be paying twice and booking two appointments. At Brightwater, it's two hundred and forty-five, and everything's done in one visit.

Sure, the seven-week wait isn't ideal, but nothing's bothering me right now, so I can live with that. Does that make sense?

Bridget, thanks for coming in. I've gone back and forth on this all week, so I wanted to tell you in person: I've decided to put the last of the budget toward Mahina's snowshoes. I know that's disappointing, especially since you've been watching some of your Grade 5 kids struggle with reading.

Here's my reasoning. In Whitehorse, January and February are long, and if the outdoor club is stuck in the gym, about a dozen kids lose the one activity that really gets them moving. The snowshoes will also last for years, while a tutor would only cover a few months.

That said, I don't want to leave your students without support. I've already spoken to the parent council, and two retired teachers who live nearby have offered to volunteer as reading buddies. They could come in on Tuesdays and Thursdays. I'd also be happy to ask the council to fund a proper tutor next fall. Could we sit down on Monday and plan it together?

To be honest, I don't think this rule is a good idea, even though I understand where it's coming from.

My main concern is that it puts a lot of pressure on families who simply can't host twenty-five kids. Think about a family living in a two-bedroom apartment with a birthday in January. They can't have the party outside, and renting a room at a play centre in Gatineau could easily cost $300 or more, before pizza and loot bags. Under this rule, their only options are to spend money they don't have or skip the school invitations entirely.

Another issue is that some kids don't want a giant party. My nephew Mathieu is quite shy, and when his school had a similar rule last year, his mom felt she had to invite everyone. He spent half the afternoon hiding in the hallway. A small party with his three closest friends would have meant far more to him.

On top of that, I think there's a better way to deal with hurt feelings. The school could ask parents not to hand out invitations in class at all and to contact other parents by email instead. That way, nobody is singled out at school, and families still decide their own guest lists.

I do agree that watching classmates get envelopes while you get nothing is painful for a seven-year-old, and schools are right to care about that.

But overall, I'd rather keep invitations out of the classroom than put pressure on families to host the whole class.

Hey Abdi, got a second? It's about Freya's housewarming gift. The package showed up, and, well, it's not a coat rack. Let me paint you a picture. Imagine a fat cylinder of thick grey felt, roughly knee-high and about as wide as a big wastebasket, with a black rubber rim around the top. Sticking up out of it are four white plastic tubes, each bent over at the top like a candy cane, with rows of tiny holes near the tips. On the side there's an orange dial about the size of a cookie, and a coiled cord comes out the back, so I'm guessing it's a boot dryer. You'd hang wet boots on those hooks. There's a little wooden shelf attached to one side, probably so you can sit while you pull your boots off. In a Whitehorse winter, Freya might love it. So what's your call? We could keep it and get forty percent back, or pay twenty-five dollars and wait three weeks, which means she'd have nothing on Saturday. Text me tonight.