ВНИМАНИЕ! С 22 по 31 октября в Центре «Турбо» состоятся родительские собрания Подробнее
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Приложение «Дневник учащегося центра «Турбо» предназначено для оперативного предоставления
 родителям данных об успеваемости их ребенка в «Университетском центре компьютерного обучения «Турбо».

Приложение реализует следующие возможности в реальном режиме времени:

  • отображает расписание занятий учащегося
  • отображает текущие оценки учащегося по всем темам обучения
  • отображает итоговые оценки учащегося по темам обучения
  • отображает данные об оплате обучения
  • отображает сообщения от преподавателя
  • представляет график работы приемной, сайт центра «Турбо»
  • обеспечивает конфиденциальность данных пользователя
  • имеет настройки, используемые для автоматической синхронизации сообщений

 «Дневник учащегося центра «Турбо»

Логин и пароль для входа
в мобильное приложение
можно узнать
в «Дневнике студента»


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Описание интерфейса приложения



Экран входа в приложение

Логин – идентификатор (имя) учетной записи учащегося. Значение имени необходимо получить в центре «Турбо»

Пароль - набор знаков, предназначенный для подтверждения личности пользователя.


Основное меню приложения


Вкладка «Расписание занятий»


Вкладка «Дневник студента»

При первом открытии вкладки всегда отображается текущая тема занятий.

Весь перечень тем можно увидеть раскрыв список тем. Если выбрать интересующую тему, то ниже будет отображена информация о пройденных занятиях. Урок может содержать несколько оценок. Например, оценки за:

  • практическое занятие
  • пройденный тест
  • самостоятельную работу
  • итоговую работу


Вкладка «Итоговые оценки»

Вкладка содержит итоговые оценки по пройденным темам занятий.


Вкладка «Оплата за обучение»

Данные об оплате актуальны на дату обновления.


Вкладка «Сообщения»


Вкладка «Настройка уведомлений»

Автообновление уведомлений имеет следующие опции:

  • Отключено
  • Каждый 1 час
  • Каждые 3 часа

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Уведомленя о сообщении


Окно смены пароля приложения

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Вкладка «О центре»


Сайт центра «Турбо».


5-7 класс

Six honest serving-men
by  Rudyard Kipling

I Keep six honest serving-men:
(They taught me all I knew)
Their names are What and Where and When
And How and Why and Who

I send them over land and sea,
I send them east and west;
But after they have worked for me,
I give them all a rest.

I let them rest from nine till five.
For I am busy then,
As well as breakfast, lunch, and tea,
For they are hungry men:

But different folk have different views:
I know a person small - 
She keeps ten million serving-men,
Who get no rest at all!

She sends them abroad on her own affairs,
From the second she opens her eyes -
One million Hows, two million Wheres,
And seven million Whys!

8-9 класс

My Heart's In The Highlands
by  Robert Burns

Farewell to the Highlands, farewell to the North,
The birth-place of Valour, the country of Worth;
Wherever I wander, wherever I rove,
The hills of the Highlands for ever I love.

My heart's in the Highlands, my heart is not here,
My heart's in the Highlands, a-chasing the deer;
Chasing the wild-deer, and following the roe,
My heart's in the Highlands, wherever I go.

Farewell to the mountains, high-cover'd with snow,
Farewell to the straths and green vallies below;
Farewell to the forests and wild-hanging woods,
Farewell to the torrents and loud-pouring floods.
My heart's in the Highlands.

 10-11 класс

by Robert Louis Stevenson

Late lies the wintry sun a-bed,
A frosty, fiery sleepy-head;
Blinks but an hour or two; and then,
A blood-red orange, sets again.

Before the stars have left the skies,
At morning in the dark I rise;
And shivering in my nakedness,
By the cold candle, bathe and dress.

Close by the jolly fire I sit
To warm my frozen bones a bit;
Or with a reindeer-sled, explore
The colder countries round the door.

When to go out, my nurse doth wrap
Me in my comforter and cap;
The cold wind burns my face, and blows
Its frosty pepper up my nose.

Black are my steps on silver sod;
Thick blows my frosty breath abroad;
And tree and house, and hill and lake,
Are frosted like a wedding cake. 


Отрывок прозаического текста для перевода

5-7 класс                                              

The Little Gingerbread Man
by Carol Moore

Once upon a time there was an old woman who loved baking gingerbread. She would bake gingerbread cookies, cakes, houses and gingerbread people, all decorated with chocolate and peppermint, caramel candies and coloured frosting.

She lived with her husband on a farm at the edge of town. The sweet spicy smell of gingerbread brought children skipping and running to see what would be offered that day.

Unfortunately the children gobbled up the treats so fast that the old woman had a hard time keeping her supply of flour and spices to continue making the batches of gingerbread. Sometimes she suspected little hands of having reached through her kitchen window because gingerbread pieces and cookies would disappear. One time a whole gingerbread house vanished mysteriously. She told her husband, "Those naughty children are at it again. They don't understand all they have to do is knock on the door and I'll give them my gingerbread treats."

One day she made a special batch of gingerbread men because they were extra big. Unfortunately for the last gingerbread man she ran out of batter and he was half the size of the others.

She decorated the gingerbread men with care, each having socks, shirt and pants of different colours. When it came to the little gingerbread man she felt sorry for him and gave him more colour than the others. "It doesn't matter he's small," she thought, "He'll still be tasty."

8-9 класс

by J. London

Dark spruce forest frowned on either side the frozen waterway. The trees had been stripped by a recent wind of their white covering of frost, and they seemed to lean toward each other, black and ominous, in the fading light. A vast silence reigned over the land. The land itself was desolation, lifeless, without movement, so lone and cold that the spirit of it was not even that of sadness. There was a hint in it of laughter, but of a laughter more terrible than any sadness -- a laughter that was mirthless as the smile of the Sphinx, a laughter cold as the frost and partaking of the grimness of infallibility. It was the masterful and incommunicable wisdom of eternity laughing at the futility of life and the effort of life. It was the Wild, the savage, frozen-hearted Northland Wild.

But there was life, abroad in the land and defiant. Down the frozen waterway toiled a string of wolfish dogs. Their bristly fur was rimed with frost. Their breath froze in the air as it left their mouths, spouting forth in spumes of vapour that settled upon the hair of their bodies and formed into crystals of frost. Leather harness was on the dogs, and leather traces attached them to a sled which dragged along behind. The sled was without runners. It was made of stout birch-bark, and its full surface rested on the snow. The front end of the sled was turned up, like a scroll, in order to force down and under the bore of soft snow that surged like a wave before it. On the sled, securely lashed, was a long and narrow oblong box. There were other things on the sled -- blankets, an axe, and a coffee-pot and frying-pan; but prominent, occupying most of the space, was the long and narrow oblong box.

10-11 класс

The Forsyte Saga
By John Galsworthy

Young Jolyon, whose circumstances were not those of a Forsyte, found at times a difficulty in sparing the money needful for those country jaunts and researches into Nature, without having prosecuted which no watercolour artist ever puts brush to paper.

He was frequently, in fact, obliged to take his colour-box into the Botanical Gardens, and there, on his stool, in the shade of a monkey-puzzler or in the lee of some India-rubber plant, he would spend long hours sketching.

An Art critic who had recently been looking at his work had delivered himself as follows.

"In a way your drawings are very good; tone and colour, in some of them certainly quite a feeling for Nature. But, you see, they're so scattered; you'll never get the public to look at them. Now, if you'd taken a definite subject, such as 'London by Night,' or 'The Crystal Palace in the Spring,' and made a regular series, the public would have known at once what they were looking at. I can't lay too much stress upon that. All the men who are making great names in Art, like Crum Stone or Bleeder, are making them by avoiding the unexpected; by specializing and putting their works all in the same pigeon-hole, so that the public know pat once where to go. And this stands to reason, for if a man's a collector he doesn't want people to smell at the canvas to find out whom his pictures are by; he wants them to be able to say at once, 'A capital Forsyte!' It is all the more important for you to be careful to choose a subject that they can lay hold of on the spot, since there's no very marked originality in your style."

The words bore good fruit with young Jolyon; they were contrary to all that he believed in, to all that he theoretically held good in his Art, but some strange, deep instinct moved him against his will to turn them to profit.

He discovered therefore one morning that an idea had come to him for making a series of watercolour drawings of London. How the idea had arisen he could not tell; and it was not till the following year, when he had completed and sold them at a very fair price, that in one of his impersonal moods, he found himself able to recollect the Art critic, and to discover in his own achievement another proof that he was a Forsyte.

He decided to commence with the Botanical Gardens, where he had already made so many studies, and chose the little artificial pond, sprinkled now with an autumn shower of red and yellow leaves, for though the gardeners longed to sweep them off, they could not reach them with their brooms. The rest of the gardens they swept bare enough, removing every morning Nature's rain of leaves; piling them in heaps, whence from slow fires rose the sweet, acrid smoke that, like the cuckoo's note for spring, the scent of lime trees for the summer, is the true emblem of the fall. The gardeners' tidy souls could not abide the gold and green and russet pattern on the grass. The gravel paths must lie unstained, ordered, methodical, without knowledge of the realities of life, nor of that slow and beautiful decay which flings crowns underfoot to star the earth with fallen glories, whence, as the cycle rolls, will leap again wild spring.

Thus each leaf that fell was marked from the moment when it fluttered a good-bye and dropped, slow turning, from its twig.

But on that little pond the leaves floated in peace, and praised Heaven with their hues, the sunlight haunting over them.

And so young Jolyon found them. 

azbuka prog

Хочешь попробовать себя в программировании? Тогда приходи на БЕСПЛАТНЫЙ курс

«Азбука программирования»

В программе курса:

  • знакомство с базовыми алгоритмическими конструкциями;
  • изучение операторов для создания линейных, разветвляющихся и циклических программ;
  • знакомство с массивами;
  • создание первых несложных вычислительных программ.

Начало занятий 13 февраля 2016 г. в 14:30
Занятия будут проходить каждую субботу в 14:30 в кабинете № 4

Запись на курсы ведется в приемной Центра «Турбо»

Приглашаем Всех на праздник


В программе:

  • Награждение победителей конкурса
  • Подведение итогов викторины
    по английскому языку «CHRISTMAS STAR»
  • Веселые развлечения для дружной компании
  • Новогодняя лотерея