Christine was just a girl in one of my class. I never knew much aboutHer except for that she was strang . she didn’t talk many .her hair was blackand purple, and she worn black sports shoes and a black sweater ,although in thesummer .she was ,infact, rath

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Christine was just a girl in one of my class. I never knew much about

Her except for that she was strang . she didn’t talk many .her hair was black

and purple, and she worn black sports shoes and a black sweater ,although in the

summer .she was ,infact, rather attractively, and she never seemed ^care what

the rest if us thought about her .like the rest of my classmate ,I didn’t really

want to get closest to her . it was only when we did their chemistry projiect

together that I begin to uanderstand why christine dressed the way she did .

__________

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I was 15 when I met my first real teacher, Mrs Geurin. I didn’t know her well at the time but I thought I hated her.In her first class, she asked us to write a piece about an influencial person, place or memory. I chose to write my lake house, a topic I had already written about and received a vast amount of praise for. Put simply, it was the place that my parents met and fell in love.This teacher knew about my original piece and she was not happy. Throught the school year,we would pass each other in the hall, never saying a word to each other.It was not until February of 2012 that we spoke at the most unusual of places, my father’s funeral. At first, I was angry that she showed up. Did she even care? She didn’t even know him! I stood, watching her give a deep bow to my father’s coffin, completely confused!It was not until she approached me that I realized she was crying even harder than I was.“Kali,” she said, “I am so sorry. My own father passed away just three weeks ago, and I completely feel your pain.” I was shocked. I understood that she had also lost her father, but I didn’t see the connection between us just yet. She had rejected my writing. That was not something that I was willing to so early forgive.A couple of weeks later, she went into my study hall and placed an envelope on my desk.In the letter, she told me her father, also had cancer, also passed away in six months’ time and he was her best friend too. It was not just this letter, but this act of kindness that taught me my,greatest life lesson. Losing has taught us both how to appreciate life. For that lesson, I am always grateful.39. Why did the author hate Mrs. Geurin at first?A. Mrs. Geurin said somethig bad about the author’s father.B. Mrs. Geurin gave the author a hard topic to write about.C. Mrs. Geurin didn’t appreciate the author’s writing.D. Mrs. Geurin didn’t like the author’s lake house.40. Hearing what Mrs. Geurin said at the funeral, the author _____.A. was grateful to herB. still didn’t forgive herC. felt ashamed of herselfD. found they had a lot in common41. What changed the relationship between Mrs. Geurin and the author?A. Her apology to the author.B. Her visit to the lake house.C. Both losing a good friendD. A similar sad experience42. What’s best title for the text?A. My first teacherB. My beloved fatherC. Seeking common groundD. Breaking down the emotional barrier

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第2题

I've loved my mother's desk since I was just tall enough to see above the top of it as mother sat writing letters. Standing by her chair, looking at the ink bottle, pens, and white paper, I decided that the act of writing must be the more wonderful thing in the world. Years later, during her final illness, mother kept different things for my sister and brother."But the desk," she'd said again, "it's for Elizaheth." I never saw her angry, never saw her cry. I knew she loved me; she showed it in acdou. But as a young girl, I wanted heart-to-heart talks between mother and daughter. They never happened.And a gulf opened between us. I was "too emotional". But she lived "on the surface". As years passed I had my own family. I loved my mother and thanked her for our happy family. I wrote to her in careful words and asked her to let me know in any way she ebose that she did forgive me. I posted the letter and waited for her answer. None came. My hope turned to disappointment, then little interest and, finally, peace-it seemed that nothing happened. I couldn't be sure that the letter had even got to mother. I only knew that I had written it, and l could stop trying to make her into someone she was not. Now the present of her desk told, as she'd never been able to, that she was pleased that writing was my chosen work. I cleaned the desk carefully and found some papers inside--a photo of my father and a one-page letter, folded and refolded many times. Give me an answer, my letter asks, in any way you choose. Mother, you always chose the act that speaks louder than words. What did mother do with her daughter's letter asking forgiveness?A.She had never received the letter. B.For years, she often talked about the letter. C.She didn't forgive her daughter at all in all her life. D.She read the letter again and again till she died.

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第3题

I've loved my mother's desk since I was just tall enough to see above the top of it as mother sat writing letters. Standing by her chair, looking at the ink bottle, pens, and white paper, I decided that the act of writing must be the more wonderful thing in the world. Years later, during her final illness, mother kept different things for my sister and brother."But the desk," she'd said again, "it's for Elizaheth." I never saw her angry, never saw her cry. I knew she loved me; she showed it in acdou. But as a young girl, I wanted heart-to-heart talks between mother and daughter. They never happened.And a gulf opened between us. I was "too emotional". But she lived "on the surface". As years passed I had my own family. I loved my mother and thanked her for our happy family. I wrote to her in careful words and asked her to let me know in any way she ebose that she did forgive me. I posted the letter and waited for her answer. None came. My hope turned to disappointment, then little interest and, finally, peace-it seemed that nothing happened. I couldn't be sure that the letter had even got to mother. I only knew that I had written it, and l could stop trying to make her into someone she was not. Now the present of her desk told, as she'd never been able to, that she was pleased that writing was my chosen work. I cleaned the desk carefully and found some papers inside--a photo of my father and a one-page letter, folded and refolded many times. Give me an answer, my letter asks, in any way you choose. Mother, you always chose the act that speaks louder than words. The passage shows that _______ A.mother was cold on the surface but kind in her heart to her daughter B.mother was too serious about everything her daughter had done C.mother cared much about her daughter in words D.mother wrote to her daughter in careful words

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第4题

I've loved my mother's desk since I was just tall enough to see above the top of it as mother sat writing letters. Standing by her chair, looking at the ink bottle, pens, and white paper, I decided that the act of writing must be the more wonderful thing in the world. Years later, during her final illness, mother kept different things for my sister and brother."But the desk," she'd said again, "it's for Elizaheth." I never saw her angry, never saw her cry. I knew she loved me; she showed it in acdou. But as a young girl, I wanted heart-to-heart talks between mother and daughter. They never happened.And a gulf opened between us. I was "too emotional". But she lived "on the surface". As years passed I had my own family. I loved my mother and thanked her for our happy family. I wrote to her in careful words and asked her to let me know in any way she ebose that she did forgive me. I posted the letter and waited for her answer. None came. My hope turned to disappointment, then little interest and, finally, peace-it seemed that nothing happened. I couldn't be sure that the letter had even got to mother. I only knew that I had written it, and l could stop trying to make her into someone she was not. Now the present of her desk told, as she'd never been able to, that she was pleased that writing was my chosen work. I cleaned the desk carefully and found some papers inside--a photo of my father and a one-page letter, folded and refolded many times. Give me an answer, my letter asks, in any way you choose. Mother, you always chose the act that speaks louder than words. The writer began to love her mother's deskA.after mother died B.before she became a writer C.when she was a child D.when mother gave it to her

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第5题

I've loved my mother's desk since I was just tall enough to see above the top of it as mother sat writing letters. Standing by her chair, looking at the ink bottle, pens, and white paper, I decided that the act of writing must be the more wonderful thing in the world. Years later, during her final illness, mother kept different things for my sister and brother."But the desk," she'd said again, "it's for Elizaheth." I never saw her angry, never saw her cry. I knew she loved me; she showed it in acdou. But as a young girl, I wanted heart-to-heart talks between mother and daughter. They never happened.And a gulf opened between us. I was "too emotional". But she lived "on the surface". As years passed I had my own family. I loved my mother and thanked her for our happy family. I wrote to her in careful words and asked her to let me know in any way she ebose that she did forgive me. I posted the letter and waited for her answer. None came. My hope turned to disappointment, then little interest and, finally, peace-it seemed that nothing happened. I couldn't be sure that the letter had even got to mother. I only knew that I had written it, and l could stop trying to make her into someone she was not. Now the present of her desk told, as she'd never been able to, that she was pleased that writing was my chosen work. I cleaned the desk carefully and found some papers inside--a photo of my father and a one-page letter, folded and refolded many times. Give me an answer, my letter asks, in any way you choose. Mother, you always chose the act that speaks louder than words. What's the best title of the passage? A.My Letter to Mother B.Mother and Children C.Mv Mother's Desk D.Talks hetween Mother and Me

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第6题

My daughter was leafing through some old photo albums the other day when she laughed and pulled out an old picture to show me. There I was a skinny 12 year old with thick, bushy, brown hair. l looked down at the picture and smiled. Only one thought was on my mind: "If only I knew then what I know now. If I knew then what I know now: I would have danced more, laughed more, and sang more no matter who was watching. I would have not cared a bit what other people thought of me. I would have cared a whole lot more, however, about what God thought of me. I would have been fearless in showing my love, sharing my joy, and living my life.Of all the four ideas, which won ' t the author agree with? A. One should not care what other people think of him/her. B. One should show his/her love bravely. C. One should only care what God thinks of him/her. D. One should do anything regardless of who is watching.

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第7题

根据下列内容，回答186-190题。 I've loved my mother's desk since I was just tall enough to see above the top of it as mothersat writing letters. Standing by her chair, looking at the ink bottle, pens, and white paper, I de-cided that the act of writing must be the more wonderful thing in the world. Years later, during herfinal illness, mother kept different things for my sister and brother."But the desk," she'd said a-gain, "it's for Elizabeth." I never saw her angry, never saw her cry. I knew she loved me; she showed it in action. Butas a young girl, I wanted heart-to-heart talks between mother and daughter. They never happened. And a gulf opened between us. I was "too emotional". But she lived "on the surface". As years passed I had my own family. I loved my mother and thanked her for our happy fami-ly. I wrote to her in careful words and asked her to let me know in any way she chose that she didforgive me. I posted the letter and waited for her answer. None came. My hope turned to disap-pointment, then little interest and, finally, peace--it seemed that nothing happened. I couldn't besure that the letter had even got to mother. I only knew that I had written it, and ! could stop try-ing to make her into someone she was not. Now the present of her desk told, as she'd never been able to, that she was pleased thatwriting was my chosen work. I cleaned the desk carefully and found some papers inside--a photoof my father and a one-page letter, folded and refolded many times. Give me an answer, my letterasks, in any way you choose. Mother, you always chose the act that speaks louder than words. The writer began to love her mother's desk__________.A.after mother died B.before she became a writer C.when she was a child D.when mother gave it to her

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Christine was just a girl in one of my class. I never knew much about Her except

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