My mind went blank when I saw the gun pointing against the car window as we pulled out of the garage. This can’t be happening to me. Then I felt the gun, cold, against my head, and I heard my friend Jeremy saying, “What do you want? Take my wallet,” but at the time I thought of nothing.

I remember being a little annoyed when the gunman pulled me from the car by the hair. I remember the walk to the house --- Jeremy, me, the two men with two guns. I remember the fear and anger in the gunmen’s voices because Jeremy was being slow, and I remember wondering why he was being slow. I did not realize that Jeremy had thrown the keys into the bush. But I remember that sound of the gun hitting Jeremy’s head and the feeling as the man who had hold of my hair released me. And I remember the split second when I realized he was looking at Jeremy, and I remember wondering how far I could run before he pulled the trigger. But I was already running, and upon reaching the car across the street, I didn’t crouch(蹲伏) behind it but screamed instead.

I remember thinking there was something ridiculous and illogical about screaming “Help, help!” at eight o’clock on a Tuesday evening in December and changing my plea(恳求) to the more specific “Help, let me in, please let me in!” But the houses were cold, closed, unfriendly, and I ran on until I heard Jeremy’s screams behind me announcing that our attackers had fled.

The neighbors who had not opened their doors to us came out with baseball bats and helped Jeremy find his glasses and keys. In a group they were very brave. We waited for the police to come until someone said to someone else that the noodles were getting cold, and I said politely, “Please go and eat. We’re O.K.”

I was happy to see them go. They had been talking of stricter sentences for criminals, of bringing back the death penalty(处罚) and how the President is going to clean up the country. I was thinking, they could be saying all of this over my dead body, and I still feel that stiffer sentences wouldn’t change a thing. In a rush all the anger I should have felt for my attackers was directed against these contented people standing in front of their warm, comfortable homes talking about all the guns they were going to buy. What good would guns have been to Jeremy and me?

People all over the neighborhood had called to report our screams, and the police turned out in force twenty minutes later. They were ill-tempered about what was, to them, much trouble about nothing. After all, Jeremy was hardly hurt, and we were hopeless when it came to describing the gunmen. “Typical,” said one policeman when we couldn’t even agree on how tall the men were. Both of us were able to describe the guns in horrifying detail, but the two policemen who stayed to make the report didn’t think that would be much help.

The policemen were matter-of-fact about the whole thing. The thin one said, “That was a stupid thing to do, throwing away the keys. When a man has a gun against your head you do what you’re told.” Jeremy looked properly embarrassed.

Then the fat policeman came up and the thin one went to look around the outside of the house. “That was the best thing you could have done, throwing away the keys,” he said. “If you had gone into the house with them…” His voice became weaker. “They would have hurt her” --- he twisted his head toward me – “and killed you both.” Jeremy looked happier. “Look,” said the fat policeman kindly, “there’s no right or wrong in the situation. There’s just luck.”

All that sleepless night I replayed the moment those black gloves came up to the car window. How long did the whole thing last? Three minutes, five, eight? No matter how many hours of my life I may spend reliving it, I know there is no way to prepare for the next time --- no intelligent response to a gun. The fat cop was right. There’s only luck. The next time I might end up dead.

And I’m sure there will be a next time. It can happen anywhere, anytime, to anyone. Security is an illusion(幻觉); there is no safety in locks or in guns. Guns make some people feel safe and some people feel strong, but they’re fooling themselves.

1. When the writer saw the gun pointing against the car window, ______.

A. she felt very annoyed              B. she lost consciousness

C. she felt very much nervous          D. she lost the power of thinking

2.What most possibly drove the two gunmen away?

A. Jeremy’s fighting                B. The author’s screaming

C. Their neighbour’s brave action      D. The police’s arrival

3.When the author called for help, the neighbors didn’t come out immediately because ______

A. they were much too frightened

B. they were busy preparing dinners

C. they needed time to find baseball bats

D. they thought someone was playing a trick

4.The author was happy to see the neighbors go because ______.

A. she hated to listen to their empty talk

B. she did not want to become an object of pity

C. she was angered by their being late to come to her help

D. she wanted to be left alone with Jeremy to get over the shock

5.The police were rather angry because ______.

A. the author was not hurt and gave a false alarm

B. they thought it was a case of little importance

C. the author and Jeremy could not tell the police anything

D. the gunmen had already fled when they arrived on the scene

6.What the author wants to tell us is that______.

A. neighbors are not helpful in moments of difficulty

B. the police are not reliable when one is in trouble

C. security is impossible as long as people can have guns

D. preventing robbers entering your house is the best choice

 

In this age of Internet chat, videogames and reality television, there is no shortage of mindless activities to keep a child occupied. Yet, despite the competition, my 8-year-old daughter Rebecca wants to spend her leisure time writing short stories. She wants to enter one of her stories into a writing contest, a competition she won last year.

As a writer I know about winning contest, and about losing them. I know what it is like to work hard on a story only to receive a rejection slip from the publisher. I also know the pressures of trying to live up to a reputation created by previous victories. What if she doesn’t win the contest again? That’s the strange thing about being a parent. So many of our own past scars and dashed hopes can surface.

A revelation（启示）came last week when I asked her, “Don’t you want to win again?” “No,” she replied, “I just want to tell the story of an angel going to first grade.”

I had just spent weeks correcting her stories as she spontaneously（自发地）told them. Telling myself that I was merely an experienced writer guiding the young writer across the hall, I offered suggestions for characters, conflicts and endings for her tales. The story about a fearful angel starting first trade was quickly “guided” by me into the tale of a little girl with a wild imagination taking her fist music lesson. I had turned her contest into my contest without even realizing it.

Staying back and giving kids space to grow is not as easy as it looks. Because I know very little about farm animals who use tools or angels who go to first grade, I had to accept the fact that I was co-opting（借用）my daughter’s experience.

While stepping back was difficult for me, it was certainly a good first step that I will quickly follow with more steps, putting myself far enough away to give her room but close enough to help if asked. All the while I will be reminding myself that children need room to experiment, grow and find their own voices.

1.What do we learn from the first paragraph?

A．Many children find lots of fun in mindless activities.

B．Rebecca is much too occupied to enjoy her leisure time.

C．Rebecca collects online materials for her writing.

D．Rebecca is different from any other child of her age.

2.What was the author's writing experience?

A．She did not quite live up to her reputation as a writer.

B．Her way to success was full of pains and frustrations.

C．She was constantly under pressure of writing more.

D．Most of her stories had been rejected by publishers.

3.Why did Rebecca want to enter this year's writing contest?

A．She possessed real talent for writing.

B．She wanted to win.

C．She wanted to share her stories with readers.

D．She had won a prize already.

 

In a cab, a woman seemed in such a hurry. She constantly rushed the cab driver to drive quickly. She was so absorbed in her own thoughts of getting to the airport as soon as possible that she was not aware they were going by a different route.

All of a sudden, a young man got inside the cab. He took her handbag in which she had put her visa, passport, and all the money for the trip.

The cab driver, who was in collusion with the robber, left her in the exactly middle of a dark street. She thought that she was rather unfortunate in the very situation.

During the very night, she was told a piece of shocking news. Tears came down her cheek. Flight 360, the plane that she should have got on board, had crashed. Had she not lost her important belongings, she could surely have lost the thing far more precious——her life.

Sometimes bad things really happen. There are times when nothing seems to go our way. So what should we do about it? We must get rid of all these frustrations and start all over again in the faith that we will get what we deserve. 

Don’t waste your time and energy on things that can’t be changed. Continuous worrying will only affect your health and you’ll be doing much more damage than what was previously done.

What if it was the other way round? What if we never ran out of good luck?

There was a man who won the lottery. He became greedy and wasted all his money on everything he could get his hands on.

But when he one day made it to the front page of the newspaper again, it was a different story. He had been killed because of his riches. If you attain good luck, you can never be too secure about it. Life is so unpredictable. You never know what will happen next.

Live one day at a time. We sometimes subject ourselves to unnecessary emotional trouble. But please don’t forget: sometimes misfortune can be the source of happiness. Live for the moment. Do what must be done for the present and the future will turn out just fine. Believe me. And believe in yourself. As Captain Planet always says, “The power is yours！”

1. The underlined phrase “in collusion with” in Paragraph 3 probably means “________.”

A. was forced by                              B. was fighting bravely against 

C. was doing one’s best to beg             D. had cooperated with

2. From the passage, we learn that ________.

A. robbers are sure to get what they want        

B. somebody never runs out of good luck

C. the woman was lucky to miss her flight 

D. if one feels oneself lucky, he or she will continue to be so

3. The writer presents the second example in order to ________.

A. warn people of the danger of winning the lottery

B. tell people life is unpredictable

C. encourage people to buy lottery  

D. persuade people not to be greedy

4. According to the author, which of the following choices is the correct attitude to adopt to life?

A. Never waste any time or energy because time is so limited.

B. One needn’t be worried or feel frustrated. Believe in yourself.

C. Even while everything appears to be going smoothly, we should keep fully alert.

D. Worrying about what you don’t have

5. The passage above is intended to tell us ________.

A. misfortune sometimes is a blessing

B. we should save up for a rainy day

C. fortune just goes with those prepared minds

D. both losses and gains go hand in hand

 

When John Weston awoke that morning, he remembered that his mother was going into hospital. He hadn’t worked out quite what was wrong with her. He knew, though that she hadn’t been well for some time now, and it had become almost familiar to him to see her eyes narrowed in a sudden attack of pain, and her hand pressing against her heart. Their own doctor, who she had finally gone to for advice, had sent her to an expert who knew all about these things. He had told her that just as soon as there was a bed for her, she would have to come into his hospital where he could look after her himself.

During the weeks since then the pains had come even more frequently, and the narrowed eyes became an almost permanent part of her expression. Always rather sharp, she began losing her temper over little things so that John’s father kept his thoughts to himself more and more. John, as ready as possible to make allowances, tried to think what it would be like to have toothache all the time and how bad-tempered that would make you.

So his mother would go into hospital for a few days. He was going to stay with his Aunt Daisy till she came back, and his father would stay on at home by himself. John’s cousin, Mona, was to come in and make the bed and wash the pots and dust round now and again. That was the arrangement, and John didn’t care much for it. Apart from missing his mother(and he was glad she was going away because they would make her better), he wasn’t very fond of his Aunt Daisy because she was even more bad-tempered than his mother.

1.Mrs Weston went to see her doctor_________.

A.as soon as she realized that something was wrong

B.only after her husband advised her to

C.a long time after the trouble began

D.when John asked what was wrong with her

2.what did Mrs Weston’s own doctor decide to do?

A.he decided to send her to hospital

B.he decided to get an expert to examine her

C.He decided to treat her himself

D.He advised her to wait for a few weeks.

3.how did John react to his mother’s bad temper?

A.he tried to imagine himself in her place.

B.He tried not to notice it.

C.He pretended that he had toothache.

D.He behaved himself as well as possible.

4.John regarded ______as most bad-tempered.

A. his father   B. his mother    C. his cousin Mona   D. his aunt Daisy

 

When I was fourteen, I earned money in the summer by cutting lawns（草坪）, and within a few weeks I had built up a body of customers. I got to know people by the flowers they planted that I had to remember not to cut down, by the things they lost in the grass or struck in the ground on purpose. I reached the point with most of them when I knew in advance what complaint was about to be spoken, which request was most important. And I learned something about the measure of my neighbors by their preferred method of payment: by the job, by the month—or not at all.

Mr. Ballou fell into the last category, and he always had a reason why. On one day, he had no change for a fifty, on another he was flat out of checks, on another, he was simply out when I knocked on his door. Still, except for the money apart, he was a nice enough guy, always waving or tipping his hat when he’d seen me from a distance. I figured him for a thin retirement check, maybe a work-related injury that kept him from doing his own yard work. Sure, I kept track of the total, but I didn’t worry about the amount too much. Grass was grass, and the little that Mr. Ballou’s property comprised didn’t take long to trim (修剪).

Then, one late afternoon in mid-July, the hottest time of the year, I was walking by his house and he opened the door, mentioned me to come inside. The hall was cool, shaded, and it took my eyes a minute to adjust to the dim light. 

“I owe you,” Mr Ballou said, “but…”

I thought I’d save him the trouble of thinking of a new excuse. “No problem. Don’t worry about it.”

“The bank made a mistake in my account,” he continued, ignoring my words. “It will be cleared up in a day or two. But in the meantime I thought perhaps you could choose one or two volumes for a down payment.

He gestured toward the walls and I saw that books were stacked (堆放) everywhere. It was like a library, except with no order to the arrangement.

“Take your time,” Mr. Ballou encouraged. “Read, borrow, keep, or find something you like. What do you read?”

“I don’t know.” And I didn’t. I generally read what was in front of me, what I could get from the paperback stack at the drugstore, what I found at the library, magazines, the back of cereal boxes, comics. The idea of consciously seeking out a special title was new to me, but, I realized, not without appeal--- so I started to look through the piles of books.

“You actually read all of these?”

“This isn’t much,” Mr. Ballou said. “This is nothing, just what I’ve kept, the ones worth looking at a second time.”

“Pick for me, then.”

He raised his eyebrows, cocked his head, and regarded me as though measuring me for a suit. After a moment, he nodded, searched through a stack, and handed me a dark red hardbound book, fairly thick.

“The Last of the Just,” I read. “By Andre Schwarz-Bart. What’s it about?”

“You tell me,” he said. “Next week.”

I started after supper, sitting outdoors on an uncomfortable kitchen chair. Within a few pages, the yard, the summer, disappeared, and I was plunged into the aching tragedy of the Holocaust, the extraordinary clash of good, represented by one decent man, and evil. Translated from French, the language was elegant, simple, impossible to resist. When the evening light finally failed I moved inside, read all through the night.

To this day, thirty years later, I vividly remember the experience. It was my first voluntary encounter with world literature, and I was amazed by the concentrated power a novel could contain. I lacked the vocabulary, however, to translate my feelings into words, so the next week. When Mr. Ballou asked, “Well?” I only replied, “It was good?”

“Keep it, then,” he said. “Shall I suggest another?”

I nodded, and was presented with the paperback edition of Margaret Mead’s Coming of Age in Samoa (a very important book on the study of the social and cultural development of peoples—anthropology (人类学) ).

To make two long stories short, Mr. Ballou never paid me a cent for cutting his grass that year or the next, but for fifteen years I taught anthropology at Dartmouth College. Summer reading was not the innocent entertainment I had assumed it to be, not a light-hearted, instantly forgettable escape in a hammock (吊床) (though I have since enjoyed many of those, too). A book, if it arrives before you at the right moment, in the proper season, at an internal in the daily business of things, will change the course of all that follows.

1.Before his encounter with Mr. Ballou, the author used to read _____________.

A．anything and everything                  B．only what was given to him

C．only serious novels                      D．nothing in the summer

2.The author found the first book Mr. Ballou gave him _____________.

A．light-hearted and enjoyable               B．dull but well written

C．impossible to put down                   D．difficult to understand

3.From what he said to the author we can guess that Mr. Ballou _______________.

A．read all books twice                     B．did not do much reading

C．read more books than he kept             D．preferred to read hardbound books

4.The following year the author _______________.

A．started studying anthropology at college

B．continued to cut Mr. Ballou’s lawn

C．spent most of his time lazing away in a hammock

D．had forgotten what he had read the summer before

5.The author’s main point is that _____________.

A．summer jobs are really good for young people

B．you should insist on being paid before you do a job

C．a good book can change the direction of your life

D．books are human beings’ best friends