Under his mother's instruction classics had a strong influence _____ Richard's

A Welcome Gift

Dario and his mother loved their new apartment. The living room was large enough for their piano. That night， the two of them 36 side by side at the piano. They played jazz music to celebrate their new home. The loud 37 filled the room and made them feel very happy.

The next morning， 38 ， their happiness disappeared. Someone had left a 39 under their door during the night. One of their neighbor had written to complain（抱怨） about the sound of the piano. Dario’s mother asked the building superintendent（管理员） if he knew anything about it. But he said that they were all 40 people and he couldn’t imagine any of them had done that. Later that morning， Dario suggested that they write a letter to their 41 and apologize for their playing.

“Maybe we could go and 42 everyone in person.” his mother said.

“What if we invited them to come here for a 43 instead？ Dario asked.

They both loved the 44 . Over the next few days， they sent out invitations and prepared desserts 45 their guests. They decorated the apartment with streamers（彩带） and party lights.

Finally， the day of the party 46 . Some guests brought presents. Others brought flowers. Some even brought desserts to 47 . One woman， Mrs. Gilbert， 48 Dario’s mother with a book of piano music by Chopin.

“I heard you playing the other night，” she said. “The sounds woke me out of bed. I 49 that you might play like this every night. So I wrote a short note. I hope you don’t think I disliked the playing.”

Dario’s mother smiled at Mrs. Gilbert. “I think maybe we 50 you an apology.” she said. “I didn’t 51 how late it was when we were playing. Maybe we should play some quieter music at night.

“You play， you play!” Mrs. Gilbert said. “I like what you play! Just not so loud at night.” She pointed to the book she had given them. “These songs are not such 52 music.”

“These songs are beautiful music.” Dario’s mother said. “We will be 53 to play them in the evening.”

“And we won’t play so loud or late!” Dario said. He was already looking forward to 54 the new music. More than that， however， he was happy to see the big smile on his mother’s face. It gave him a feeling of 55 and made him feel that they were home at last.

36. ()

A. sat

B.stood

C.lay

D.walked

Raju and His Father's Shop

My mother told me a story every evening while we waited for father to close the shop and come home. The shop remained open till midnight. Bullock-carts in long caravans arrived late in the evening from distant villages, loaded with coconut, rice, and other commodities for the market. The animals were unyoked under the big tamarind tree for the night, and the cartmen drifted in twos and threes to the shop, for a chat or to ask for things to eat or smoke. How my father loved to discuss with them the price of grain, rainfall, harvest, and the state of irrigation channels. Or they talked about old litigations. One heard repeated references to magistrates, affidavits, witnesses in the case, and appeals, punctuated with roars of laughter—possibly the memory of some absurd legality or loophole tickled them.

My father ignored food and sleep when he had company. My mother sent me out several times to see if he could be. made to turn in. He was a man of uncertain temper and one could not really guess how he would react to interruptions, and so my mother coached me to go up, watch his mood, and gently remind him of food and home. I stood under the shop-awning, coughing and clearing my throat, hoping to catch his eye. But the talk was all-absorbing and he would not glance in my direction, and I got absorbed in their talk, although I did not understand a word of it.

After a while my mother's voice came gently on the night air, calling, "Raju, Raju," and my father interrupted his activities to look at me and say, "Tell your mother not to wait for me. Tell her to place a handful of rice and buttermilk in a bowl, with just, one piece of lime pickle, and keep it in the oven for me. I'll come in later." It was almost a formula with him five days in a week. He always added, "Not that I'm really hungry tonight." And then I believe he went on to discuss health problems with his cronies.

But I didn't stop to hear further. I made a quick dash back home. There was a dark patch between the light from the shop and the dim lantern shedding its light on our threshold, a matter of about the yards, I suppose, but the passage through it gave me a cold sweat. I expected wild animals and supernatural creatures to emerge and grab mc. My mother waited on the doorstep to receive me and said, "Not hungry, I suppose! That'll give him an excuse to talk to the village folk all night, and then come in for an hour's sleep and get up with the crowing of that foolish cock somewhere. He will spoil his health."

I followed her into the kitchen. She placed my plate and hers side by side on the floor, drew the rice-pot within reach, and served me and herself simultaneously, and we finished our dinner by the sooty tin lamp, stuck on a nail in the wall. She unrolled a mat for me in the front room, and I lay down to sleep. She sat at my side, awaiting father's return. Her presence gave me a feeling of inexplicable coziness. I felt I ought to put her proximity to good use, and complained, "Something is bothering my hair," and she ran her fingers through my hair, and scratched the nape of my neck. And then I commanded, "A story."

Immediately she began, "Once upon a time there was a man called Devaka..." I heard his name mentioned almost every night. He was a hero, saint, or something of the kind. I never learned fully what he did or why, sleep overcoming me before my mother was through even the preamble.

Which of the following was NOT what we can infer from the conversation between Father and the cartmen？

A．Sometimes during lawsuits, one side or the other tricked the law, probably by finding faults in the legal code which were favorable to themselves.

B．There were times when the courts came to foolish decisions.

C．Matters related to fanning were of great interest to them.

D．The magistrates were ludicrous.

As he got out of his car he found a young girl sitting on the road crying. He asked her what was wrong and she answered “I want to buy a red rose for my mother but I only have seventy-five cents. A rose costs two dollars.”

The man smiled and said “Come into the shop with me and I’ll buy you a rose.”

He bought the little girl her rose and ordered his own mother’s flowers. As they were leaving he wanted to drive the girl home. The girl said “Yes please! You can take me to my mother ” She brought him to a cemetery(墓地)and she placed the rose on the grave.

The man was moved. He returned to the flower shop picked up the flowers he ordered and drove two hundred miles to his mother’s house. If today is the day for your mother. Send a flower to your kind and beautiful mother.

(1)The man went to the shop to ().

A.help the girl

B.order some flowers

C.buy some food

D. buy a rose

(2)The man’s mother lived () away from him.

A.2 kilometres

B.200 kilometres

C.200 miles

D.not far

(3)The girl was crying on the road because ().

A.she was hungry

B.she couldn’t afford a rose

C.she couldn’t find her way home

D. she missed her mother

(4)After the man bought the girl a rose they went to () together.

A.the cemetery

B.the girl’s home.

C.his moth er’s house

D. his own home

(5)From the passage we can infer(推断) that ().

A.the girl loved flowers very much

B.The girl loved her mother very much

C.The shopkeeper sent the flowers to the man’s mother

D.The man didn’t love his mother

Dr。 Ben Carsen grew up in a poor single parent house-hold in Detroit。 His mother， who had only a 3rd grade education helds two jobs cleaning bathrooms。 To his classmates and even to his

teachers he was thought of as the dummest kid in his class。 According to his own not so fond memories。

He had a terrible temper， and once threatened to kill another child。 Dr。 Carsen was headed down part of seld distraction until a critical moment in his youth。 His mother convinced that he had to do something dramatic preventing leading a life of failure laid down some rules。 He could not

watch television except for two programs a week， could not play with his friends after school

until he finished his homework。 And had to read two books a week， and write book reports about them。 His mother’s strategy worked。 “Of course， I didn’t know she couldn’t read。 So there I was

submitting these reports。” he said。 She would put check marks on them like she had been reading them。 As I began to read about scientists，economists and philosophers。 I started imaging myself in their shoes。 As he got into the hobbit of hard work， his grade began to soar。 Ultimately he received a scholarship to attending Yale

University， and later he was admitted to the University of Michigan Medical School。

He is now a leading surgeon at Johns Hopkins Medical School and he is also the author of the three books。

Questions 23 to 25 are based on the conversation you’ve just heard。

Q23 What do we learn about Ben Carsen ？

Q24 What did Ben Caren’s classmates and teachers think of him whenhe was first at school？

Q25 What did Ben Carsen’s mother tell him to do when he was a school boy？

转引他人作品的文内引用

Only one of the following MLA in-text citations is handled correctly. Select the correct answer.

The student is quoting Rabbi Isaac P. Fried from page 38 of the following newspaper article:

Treaster, JosephB.“Healing Herb or Narcotic？ Marijuana as Medication.” New York Times 14 Nov. 1993: 38+.

A.“I consider this [alleviating acute pain and nausea] a need that has to be filled,” says Rabbi Isaac P. Fried of New York of his administration of marijuana to suffering patients. “Should I buckle under the fear of an archaic law that doesn't deal with the present needs of the 1990's？” (Treaster 38).

B.“I consider this [alleviating acute pain and nausea] a need that has to be filled,” says Rabbi Isaac P. Fried of New York of his administration of marijuana to suffering patients. “Should I buckle under the fear of an archaic law that doesn't deal with the present needs of the 1990's？” (qtd. in Treaster 38).

C.“I consider this [alleviating acute pain and nausea] a need that has to be filled,” says Rabbi Isaac P. Fried of New York of his administration of marijuana to suffering patients. “Should I buckle under the fear of an archaic law that doesn't deal with the present needs of the 1990's？” (qtd. in Isaac 38).

D.“I consider this [alleviating acute pain and nausea] a need that has to be filled,” says Rabbi Isaac P. Fried of New York of his administration of marijuana to suffering patients. “Should I buckle under the fear of an archaic law that doesn't deal with the present needs of the 1990's？” (Isaac 38).

Doctor Ben Carson grew up in a poor single parent household in Detroit. His mother, who had only a third-grade education, worked two jobs cleaning bathrooms. To his classmates and even to his teachers, he was thought of as the dumbest kid in the class, according to his own not so fond memories. He had a terrible temper, and once threatened to kill another child. Doctor Carson was headed down a path of self-destruction until a critical moment in his youth. His mother, convinced that she had to do something dramatic to prevent him from leading a life of failure, laid down some rules. He could not watch television except for two programs a week, could not play with his friends after school until he finished his homework, and had to read two books a week and write book reports about them. His mother’s strategy worked. “Of course, I didn’t know she couldn’t read, so there I was submitting these reports.” He said. “She would put check marks on them like she had been reading them. As I began to read about scientists, economists and philosophers, I started imaging myself in their shoes. As he got in the habit of hard work, his grades began to soar. Ultimately, he received a scholarship to attend Yale University. And later, he was admitted to the University of Michigan Medical School. He is now a leading surgeon at John’s Hopkins Medical School, and he’s also the author of three books.

Q: What do we learn about Ben Carson？

A.He had only a third-grade education.

B.He once threatened to kill his teacher.

C.He grew up in a poor single-parent household.

D.He often helped his.

I sit at the kitchen table beneath a peach-painted ceiling and a chandelier with oversized plastic teardrops. Every now then I get up and walk over to the counter, peer into the yellow tub, watch, pretend to watch, and then sit down again. Across from me, the little knick-knacks my mother loves So much-ceramic flowers, Delfts-blue miniature vases, a figurine forever windblown -- are arranged carefully upon the window sill.

My mother's hands are thin-skinned, pale, spotted and freckled with age and sun. The nails are thick, almost yellow. A few strands of hair, not quite black, fall over her forehead and her mouth is slightly open, the tip of her tongue just visible between her teeth as she lifts and mixes the cabbage leaves. "Are you paying attention？" she wants to know, and I nod at ceramic flowers, Delfts-blue miniature vases, a figurine forever windblown.

Kim chee is pickled cabbage. Friends always ask me for botfies of the stuff: Mama Kim’s special recipe, they tease. I pass this on the my mother and she grumbles and laughs, embarrassed, pleased.

My mother’s hands lle in my lap and I touch them carefully, life them like small, live animals, fit them into the plans of my own hands, turn them over and think of crab-hunting as a child and a trail of overturned, shell-encrusted sea rocks.

Once I told my mother that I would like to photograph' her hands, and she peered down at them, lifted her hands up to her face suspiciously as if seeing them for the first time. "My hands？" she asked, and I went and fetched some skin lotion from the bathroom. Her hands were too dry.

I had her sit on the couch in the living-room. The couch was floral-patterned and she sat in the centre of it, awkward, distracted. I took the pictures, head-to-toe shots, some of her hands alone. They lay limply in her lap. She held one hand with the other. She didn’t know what else to do with them. I took the pictures. Every ten minutes or so she got up and walked to the kitchen, checked the oven, the various pots. My father walked by once, and joked, "How about my hands？"

The cabbage leaves are washed and salted and rinsed. This much I remember. A winter’s sun floats in through the window, plays weakly with the plastic tear-drops, falls down onto the kitchen table, onto my own hands. I suppose they will soon lock like hers.

I get up, restless, lean over the counter, try to concentrate. Every year for the last five years or so I have asked my mother to teach me how to pickle cabbage. Every year I have watched her hands, seen the aprons change, the stomach grow more round -- the cabbage leaves are washed and salted and rinsed. This much I remember.

I take the roils of film to a friend who knows something about photography. He develops them and is impressed. He sees a small Asian woman, smiling hesitantly into a camera, lost among the flowers of living-room couches. She is tired and stiff. My friend doesn’t even notice her hands. He calls the photos "real", I call them "disappointing".

The kim chee is just made so it is not quite ripe, but we eat a little of it at dinner, anyway. My father tells me his story about villagers who ran away during the war, as the bombs came down, with earthenware kim chee pots in their anus. It is favourite, not quite-ripe kim chee story.

When the winter sunlight comes through the kitchen window, tear-refracted onto my own hands. I stop writing and put down my pen. My mother asks, "What are you writing？" And I tell her that I am writing about kim chee. She laughs, "You don’t even kn

A．My mother’s hand.

B．Pickled cabbage.

C．Kim chee.

D．My mother.

As anxiety-makers, examinations are second to none. That is because so much depends oil them. They are the mark of success of failure in our society. Your whole future may be decided in one fateful day. It doesn't matter that you weren't feeling very well, or that your mother died. Little things like that don't count: the exam goes on. No one can give of his best when he is in mortal terror, or after a sleepless night, yet this is precisely what the examination system expects him to do. The moment a child begins school, he enters a world of vicious competition where success and failure are clearly defined and measured. Can we wonder at the increasing number of "drop outs": young people who are written off as utter failures before they have even embarked on a career？ Can we be surprised at the suicide rate among students？

A good education should, among other things, train you to think for yourself. The examination system does anything but that. What has to be learnt is rigidly laid down by a syllabus, so the student is encouraged to memorize. Examinations do not motivate a student to read widely, but to restrict his reading; they do not enable him to seek more and more knowledge, but induce cramming. They lower the standards of teaching, for they deprive the teacher of all freedoms. Teachers themselves arc often judged by examination results and instead of teaching their subjects, they are reduced to training their students in exam techniques which they despise. The most successful candidates are not always the best educated; they are the best trained in the technique of working under duress.

The results on which so much depends are often nothing more than a subjective assessment by some anonymous examiner. Examiners are only human. They get tired and hungry; they make mistakes. Yet they have to mark stacks of hastily scrawled scripts in a limited amount of time. They work under the same sort of pressure as the candidates. And their word carries weight. After a judge's decision you have the right Of appeal, but not after an examiner's. There must surely be many simpler and more effective ways of assessing a person's true abilities. Is it cynical to suggest that examinations are merely a profitable business for the institutions that run them？ This is what it boils down to in the last analysis. The best comment on the system is this illiterate message recently scrawled on a wall: I were a teenage drop-out and now I are a teenage millionaire.

The main idea of this passage is ______.

A．examinations exert a pernicious influence on education

B．examinations are ineffective

C．examinations are profitable for institutions

D．examinations are a burden on students