I began working in journalism when I was eight. It was my mother’s idea. She wanted me to “make something” of myself, and decided I had better start young if I was to have any chance of keeping up with the competition.

         With my load of magazines I headed toward Belleville Avenue. The crowds were there. There were two gas stations on the corner of Belleville and Union. For several hours I made myself highly visible, making sure everyone could see me and the heavy black letters on the bag that said THE SATURDAY EVENING POST. When it was supper time, I walked back home.

         “How many did you sell, my boy?” my mother asked.

         “None.”

         “Where did you go?”

         “The corner of Belleville and Union Avenues.”

         “What did you do?”

         “Stood on the corner waiting for somebody to buy a Saturday Evening Post.”

         “You just stood there?”

         “Didn’t sell a single one.”

         “My God, Russell!”

         Uncle Allen put in, “Well, I’ve decided to take the Post.” I handed him a copy and he paid me a nickle(五分镍币). It was the first nickle I earned.

         Afterwards my mother taught me how to be a salesman. I would have to ring doorbells, address adults with self-confidence, and persuade them by saying that no one, no matter how poor, could afford to be without the Saturday Evening Post in the home.

         One day, I told my mother I’d changed my mind. I didn’t want to make a success in the magazine business.

         “If you think you can change your mind like this,” she replied, “you’ll become a good-for-nothing.” She insisted that, as soon as school was over, I should start ringing doorbells, selling magazines. Whenever I said no, she would scold me.

         My mother and I had fought this battle almost as long as I could remember. My mother, dissatisfied with my father’s plain workman’s life, determined that I would not grow up like him and his people. But never did she expect that, forty years later, such a successful journalist as me would go back to her husband’s people for true life and love.

1.Why did the boy start his job young?

A．He wanted to be famous in the future  B．The job was quite easy for him.

C．His mother had high hopes for him.   D．The competition for the job was fierce.

2.From the dialogue between the boy and his mother, we learn that the mother was _______.

A．excited        B．interested          C．ashamed    D．disappointed

3.What did the mother do when the boy wanted to give up?

A．She forced him to continue.            B．She punished him.

C．She gave him some money.              D．She changed her plan.

4.The phrase “this battle” in the last paragraph refers to       .

A．the war between the boy’s parents

B．the arguing between the boy and his mother

C．the quarrel between the boy and his customers

D．the fight between the boy and his father

5.What is the text mainly about?

A．The early life of a journalist.

B．The early success of a journalist.

C．The happy childhood of the writer.     

D．The important role of the writer in his family.

I recall my mother’s voice which called me to order, and often ended with some strong proverb to express the gravity of the wrong done. It was common practice for my mother to send me off soul-searching with a proverb.

Of the many interactions I had with my mother those many years ago, one stands out with clarity. I remember the occasion when Mother sent me to the main road, about twenty yards away from the farmhouse, to invite a passing group of seasonal work-seekers home for a meal. She instructed me to take a container along and collect dry cow dung (牛粪) for making a fire. I was then to prepare the meal for the group of work-seekers.       

The thought of making an open fire outside at midday, cooking in a large three-legged pot in that high heat, was enough to upset even an angel. I did not manage to hide my feelings from my mother, and after serving the group, she called me to the balcony, where she usually sat to attend to her sewing (缝纫).

Looking straight into my eyes, she said, “Tsholofelo, why were you so unhappy when I requested you to prepare a meal for those poor people?” Despite my attempt to deny her allegation (断言), and using the heat of the fire and the sun as an excuse for my alleged behavior, Mother, giving me a firm look, said, “A foot has no nose.” It means, “You can’t detect what trouble may lie ahead of you.” Had I denied the group of people a meal, it may have happened that, in my travels some time in the future, I found myself at the mercy of those very individuals. As if that was not enough to shame me, Mother continued, “A person is a person because of another person.”   

1.We learn from the passage that Tsholofelo’s mother often _____.   

A. quoted proverbs when she was talking with others

B. asked Tsholofelo to read more proverbs

C. collected proverbs in her spare time                

D. used proverbs to teach Tsholofelo

2.What was Tsholofelo’s attitude towards the meal?

A. Unwilling.           B. Interested.      C. Critical.  D.Unconcerned.    

3.The atmosphere on the balcony was probably _____.

A. very strange         B. a bit tense           C. quite lively   D. pretty relaxed 

4.According to the passage, Tsholofelo’s mother seemed to hope Tsholofelo could be _____.    

A. flexible and creative    B. sincere and honest  

C. active and confident     D. sympathetic and helpful

第二节：完形填空(共20小题；每小题l.5分，满分30分) 阅读下面短文掌握其大意，然后从各题所给的四个选项（A、B、C和D）中，选出最佳选项。
I don’t remember when it first started annoying me — her hands pushing my hair that way. But it    36    annoy me, for    37   felt work-worn and rough against my young skin.    38   , one night, I shouted out at her, “Don’t do that anymore — your hands are too rough!” She didn’t say anything in    39  . But never again did my mother close out my day with that familiar    40    of her love. Lying awake long afterward, my words stuck to me. But pride kept my conscience back, and I didn’t tell her I was    41  .
Time after time, with the passing years, my thoughts    42    to that night. By then I missed my mother’s hands, missed her goodnight kiss upon my forehead. Sometimes the incident seemed very    43  , sometimes far away. But always it hid in the back of my    44   .
Well, the years have passed, and I’m not a little girl any more. Mom is    45    her mid-seventies and those hands I once thought to be so rough are    46   doing things for me and my family. She cooks the best fried chicken in the world, gets stains out of blue jeans and still    47    on dishing out ice cream at any hour of the day or night. Through the years, my mother’s hands have put in countless hours of labor.
Now, my own children are grown and gone. Mom no longer has Dad, and on special occasions, I find myself drawn next door to    48    the night with her. So it was late on Thanksgiving Eve, as I slept in the bedroom of my    49  , a familiar hand hesitantly stole    50    my face to brush the hair from my forehead. Then a kiss, ever so gently, touched my eyebrow.
In my memory, for the thousandth time, I recalled the night, when my young voice    51   ,　“Don’t do that anymore — your hands are too rough!” Catching Mom’s hand in hand, I spoke out how sorry I was    52   that night. I thought she’d remember,    53    I did. But Mom didn’t know what I was talking about. She had forgotten — and forgiven — long ago.
That night, I fell asleep with a new    54    for my gentle mother and her    55   hands.
36． A. had          B. did        C.would              D . will
37． A. they         B. What      C.them         D. that
38． A. However     B. Later      C.Unluckily     D. Finally
39． A. Order        B. time      C.reply         D. return
40． A. expression          B. signal     C.impression     D. mean
41． A. sad          B. sorry      C.stupid         D. tired
42． A. adopted       B. hurried       C.returned       D. adjusted
43． A. close         B. serious          C.deep          D. clear
44． A. head         B. mind      C.brain         D. thought
45． A. at            B. on         C.to             D. in
46． A. still         B. already       C.almost          D. even
47． A. insists         B. sticks     C.puts          D. takes
48． A. stay         B. pay        C.spend         D. spare
49． A. youth              B. son        C.daughter       D. father
50． A. over         B. Across    C.through        D. on
51． A. argued        B. Talked    C.explained      D. complained
52． A. to            B. At        C.in             D. for
53． A. when              B. As         C.so             D. since
54． A. understanding  B. connection  C. appreciation     D. relation
55． A. old          B. Caring          C. ugly         D. tiring

In the kitchen of my mother’s houses there has always been a wooden stand (木架) with a small notepad (记事本)　and a hole for a pencil.

I’m looking for paper on which to note down the name of a book I am recommending to my mother. Over forty years since my earliest memories of the kitchen pad and pencil, five houses later, the current paper and pencil look the same as they always did. Surely it can’t be the same pencil? The pad is more modern, but the wooden stand is definitely  the original one.

 “I’m just amazed you still have the same stand for holding the pad and pencil after all these years.” I say to her, walking back into the living-room with a sheet of paper and the pencil. “You still use a pencil. Can’t you afford a pen?”

My mother replies a little sharply. “It works perfectly  well. I’ve  always kept the stand in the kitchen. I never knew when I might want to note down an idea, and I was always in the kitchen in those days.”

Immediately I can picture her, hair wild, blue housecoat covered in flour, a wooden spoon in one hand, the pencil in the other, her mouth moving silently. My mother smiles and says, “One day I was cooking and watching baby Pauline, and I had a brilliant thought, but the stand was empty. One of the children must have taken the paper. So I just picked up the breadboard and wrote it all down on the back. It turned out to be a real breakthrough for solving the mathematical problem I was working on.”

This story—which happened before I was born—reminds me how extraordinary my mother was, and is, as a gifted mathematician. I feel embarrassed that I complain about not having enough child-free time to work. Later, when my mother is in the bathroom, I go into her kitchen and turn over the breadboards. Sure enough, on the back of the smallest one, are some penciled marks I recognize as mathematics. Those symbols have travelled unaffected through fifty years, rooted in the soil of a cheap wooden breadboard, invisible (看不到的) exhibits at every meal.

1.Why has the author’s mother always kept the notepad and pencil in the kitchen?

A．To leave messages.

B．To list her everyday tasks.

C．To note down maths problems.

D．To write down a flash of inspiration.

2.What is the author’s original opinion about the wooden stand?

A．It has great value for the family.

B．It needs to be replaced by a better one.

C．It brings her back to her lonely childhood.

D．It should be passed on to the next generation.

3.The author feels embarrassed for             .

A．blaming her mother wrongly

B．giving her mother a lot of trouble

C．not making good use of time as her mother did

D．not making any breakthrough in her field

4.What can be inferred from the last paragraph?

A．The mother is successful in her career.

B．The family members like travelling.

C．The author had little time to play when young.

D．The marks on the breadboard have disappeared.

5.In the author’s mind, her mother is             .

A．strange in behaviour

B．keen on her research

C．fond of collecting old things

D．careless about her appearance

----I’m afraid I can’t satisfy my mother’s demand in my study.

----________. Things may not be as bad as you think.

A．Turn up           B．Cheer up          C．Make up          D．Hurry up