There’s a special boy in my son’s class. Everyone thinks he is a bad kid. I’ve heard that he talks loudly, disrupts（扰乱）the class with bursts of negative comments, and doesn’t participate in groups. He also stands out as the tallest. Other parents tell his mother they’re scared of him. Yet he has never been physically aggressive. Sometimes he even shows kindness to others in need of help.
I’ll call him Joe. Most parents and kids don’t know Joe has Asperger syndrome. People with the disease must learn about socially proper behavior. It’s very hard for Joe to control his social behavior. He has worked hard since second grade. However, he has few friends who support him with positive comments.
Joe is in the highest-level math and reading classes. He wanted to join an activity club in school, but parent volunteers refused him. They didn’t acknowledge that he had been working hard to fit into the school’s social networks. I wish those parents had seen Joe walking home from school one cold winter day in January and how he had offered his help warmly.
Driving by, I saw him run and kneel down by a little girl lying on the ground. Joe brushed the hair from her eyes and smiled. She smiled back through tears, having slipped and fallen on the ice. Joe took off his coat and spread it out, and then he helped her move to sit on it. He also gathered her belongings and put them on his coat. He wiped the snow from her knees and hands, moving her arms to check for injury. Then Joe helped her up, took her hand and walked her home. He carried her pack and then rang her doorbell. When her sister rushed her inside, the little girl smiled back at Joe. Then he set her pack down by the door and walked home happily.
注意：
1.续写词数应为150左右；
2.请按如下格式在答题卡的相应位置作答。
I stopped by Joe’s house later.
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His mother expressed gratitude to me as she showed me to the door.
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Amanda lived in a big modern city. Due to the high-speed development of economy, families from different backgrounds came here to find a better life. Amanda’s classmate and friend, Rama, was from one of those families.
One day after school, Amanda and Rama were chatting and Rama mentioned how much she missed her friends and hometown. “It is hard to leave,” Rama sighed, “but my family needed to be somewhere that is easier to make a living. Holding Rama’s hands, Amanda encouraged her to share more and she knew Rama loved to sing and dance with her friends back in her hometown.
After learning about Rama’s story, Amanda started to notice more students like Rama in her school. For the first time she realized that those students looked sad in their eyes. Sometimes because of their different accents, they couldn’t communicate well with others, which made them always sit or stand silently at the back of the classroom.
“They are having a hard time, we should show them kindness and love!” she told her mother one day. Amanda asked her mother what she could do to help make them feel welcome. Amanda’s mother suggested, “What about using art? Maybe it will be easier to communicate through art.” Amanda thought for a while and nodded. Like her friend Rama, Amanda loved all forms of art, like painting, singing, dancing, and performing, through which she could tell different stories about her family, and her life.
The next day, Amanda went to the Activity Center in her school and proposed her plan of an art show. The officer thought it a great idea. Inspired and excited, Amanda set about her plan with several friends. At the Activity Center they filled a room with paper, paint and pencils. They even made a small stage! Everything ready, they invited all the new students in her school and Amanda encouraged them to share something special about their hometown in any art form. To Amanda’s surprise, no one responded.
注意:
1.续写词数应为150左右；
2.请按如下格式在答题卡的相应位置作答。
Amazingly, Rama stepped forward to break the ice.
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Everything seemed to change after that art show.
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“I’ll bet Anjali knows. Right, Anjali? Why don’t you show us since you’re the star student,” Deepak taunted (奚落).
Anjali was confused. She wasn’t trying to show off. She was just playing tabla (印度塔不拉鼓), like everyone else. And why was Deepak being so mean lately? Is it because tabla is a boy’s thing? She didn’t care that people thought it was a boys’ instrument. Anjali knew there was no such thing. She danced her fingers across the tabla to perform the composition in confusion. “Ugh!” Anjali heard someone groan, and she stopped playing.
“I guess I don’t know it that well after all,” Anjali said sheepishly to the teacher, Mr. Zakir. Her stomach was doing flip-flops. That wasn’t true. Not even a little. Mr. Zakir’s eyes narrowed. He looked like he was about to say something, but changed his mind. “The recital (演奏会) is next week, everyone. Keep practicing. I will be announcing who will get to perform onstage with me at my next concert!” Anjali had dreamed of a moment like that. She wanted to win the opportunity, but she needed to sort things straight with Deepak first.
As the class was dismissed, Anjali hurried over to Deepak. When she finally made eye contact with him, he purposely looked away and walked off. The next day at school, Anjali overheard Deepak whispering to Mary. “People are only interested because she’s the only girl in tabla class and they want her to feel special. She’s not that good—” Anjali was furious. She excused herself and went to the bathroom. She took some deep breaths but couldn’t relax. Her heart was pounding:
“It’s not my fault that people make a big deal about a girl playing tabla. I make mistakes too, but I work really hard. Maybe he should too. He should be less mean and practice more.”
“If I play in this concert, no one will talk to me again. He will turn everyone against me.”
“I don’t want to see a tabla or hear a tabla or play a tabla EVER AGAIN!!” Anjali yelled at the mirror. It was quiet for a moment. She believed it was one of her darkest days ever.
注意：1.续写词数应为150个左右；
2.请按如下格式在答题纸的相应位置作答。
Stepping out of the bathroom, Anjali saw some inspiring posters on the wall.
_______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________After the recital, Deepak walked up to Anjali.
_______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________“What will we be singing for the contest this year?” a student from my high school choir, a singing team, asked eagerly.
I hesitated this moment. “I was thinking,” I said, “maybe we’ll skip the contest and just work hard on the concerts this year.”
“NO!” the kids protested.
“We’ve got to go to contest!”
“In Class A.”
“It’s tradition!”
This was true. Awards lined the front wall of the music room from the past successes of large, talented classes. But a change in educational policies, with an emphasis on academics, had reduced my choir to a mere thirty-two students. My section leaders had graduated or been forced to drop music classes, leaving me with young, inexperienced kids who couldn’t read music, couldn’t hold their parts, and could sing only a simple melody or song.
“Maybe we could enter Class B this year,” I suggested, knowing even that would be a near-impossible mission.
“No!” the kids screamed. “Class A!”
I shook my head, “Class A is extremely difficult.”
“We can do it!” they shouted. “We can do it!”
“I’ll have to think about it,” I said, hoping their enthusiasm would die off in a couple of weeks.
But that didn’t happen. If anything, the class became more fixed. Every day they begged and begged and they insisted. Because I had to protect their self-pride I couldn’t tell them they weren’t good enough. My efforts to prevent their eagerness, by showing them a difficult piece of music from the contest list, simply ended with, “It’s okay, Mrs. Pliszka, we’ll get it.”
I struggled to make a decision. If I destroyed their hope, would I destroy their spirit? On the other hand, if we entered Class A, would they be humiliated by the judges’ comments? Finally one morning I walked into class. “Kids!” I demanded. “We are entering the contest in Class A…” The rest of my sentence was lost in screams of delight and applause. As the weeks progressed, each morning the kids practised singing, worked on reading music, learned musical terms, practiced rhythm and marked changes, prepared concert music, and went over and over the three contest numbers.
注意：
1. 续写词数应为80左右；
2. 请按如下格式在答题卡的相应位置作答。
When the contest day finally arrived, the kids felt ready to take on the world!
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The park bench was deserted as I sat down to read beneath a willow tree. It must be as sick, for the branches were kind of yellow and dry. I was a deserted girl. Endless quarrels with my parents had left me nowhere to go but this desolate (荒无人烟的) corner of the park. As I sat on the bench, things that happened recently began to flash through. Days seemed months to me recently. No cozy home to stay. No happy memories about my life. No considerate family members to talk to. Even the book I was reading was no fun. Not content with life, I had a good reason to frown, for the world was intended to drag me down.
And if that were not enough to ruin my day, a young boy out of breath approached me, all tired from play. He stood right in front of me with his head tilted (倾斜) down and said with great excitement, “Look what I found!” In his hand was a flower. What a pitiful sight, its petals (花瓣) were all worn—not enough rain, or too little light. He must have picked the flower from somewhere shady and sunless, just like where I was staying these days. I couldn’t help being self-pitying. Wanting him to take his dead flower away and go off to play, I faked a smile and then looked away. “Why couldn’t everyone just leave me be!” I thought to myself, upset and gloomy.
But instead of leaving, he sat next to me and placed the flower to his nose and declared loudly with certainty, “It sure smells pretty and it must be beautiful, too. That’s why I picked it; here, it is for you.” The “weed” before me was dying or dead, not vibrant with colors, orange, yellow or red—anyone having eyes can see that clearly! But I knew I must take it, or he might never leave. So I reached for the flower, and replied, “Just what I need.” Strangely, instead of placing the flower in my hand, he held it in mid-air without any reason or plan.
注意：
1. 续写词数应为150左右；
2. 请按如下格式在答题卡的相应位置作答。
Casting a curious glance at the boy’s eyes, I was hugely shocked.
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“I had to make a change,” I thought to myself.
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Kenneth Hansen, 46, was working late one May evening two years ago, putting the last pieces of board on a house in Gratiot County, Michigan. He saw a boy crazily waving his arms. Then Hansen heard screaming. Standing on the back porch (门廊)of the house next door was the little boy screaming "Help!", while four dogs barked and ran after him. Hansen knew little about the boy. After all, the boy was just visiting his grandfather during holidays.
At first, Hansen thought it was just a dogfight. Then alarm bells went off in his head. The noises they made sounded like what dogs do when they're biting something. His feeling proved right when he watched in horror as they sank in their teeth and bit at the boy's leg.
Then, Hansen realized the boy was in a great danger. He raced across the grass, jumped over a six-foot-high fence and landed in the neighbor's yard. He shouted at the dogs, but they ignored him. He screamed and yelled louder until they let go just long enough for Henson to grab the eight-year-old boy, Ethan. But he couldn't grab him under his arms, which would make it harder to run, because the boy was badly injured. Luckily, He found a long wooden stick at the corner. Henson used it to drive the dogs away and held the boy into his arms.
Hansen ran fast across the yard, and the dogs followed him. Hansen ran to the back deck (木制平台). So did the dogs. When he reached the top, he pulled on a courtyard door, but it wouldn't open. At that time, a dog grabbed Ethan's foot again to get him back from Hansen. Then Hansen pulled on a second door. It sprang open. He rushed inside the house, followed closely by the dogs scratching (抓)at his legs. He opened a bedroom door a crack, pushed Ethan in quickly, then closed it immediately.
注意：1.续写词数应为150左右；
2.请按如下格式在答题卡的相应位置作答。
Turning around, Hansen faced the dogs.
_________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________Months later, Ethan was fully recovered.
_________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________The year 2013 marked a turning point in my life. In June, my husband was offered a new Job in Ghana. Feeling that I had hit a career bottleneck as a photographer and copywriter (广告文字撰写人), I, without any hesitation, made the decision to relocate with him.
While my husband engaged in work, my visa didn’t grant me the same privilege. But that’s okay. I didn’t know what to do anyway. I was left isolated, homesick and lacking purpose. Our new home was a bungalow near a river that cut across expansive grasslands. With few people around our home, I turned to nature, which had been a fondness of mine since childhood. Every day, I would take my camera and wander around, photographing aimlessly.
It wasn’t long before September arrived, bringing the full flow of the rainy season. After one particularly bad thunderstorm, I found a finch (雀) — a poor little thing barely a month old with one wing broken — on the ground. Evidently, he had been abandoned by his flock, his nest blown from a tree. The sight was heartbreaking. He was the size of my lite finger. His eyes were tightly shut and he was shuddering, too young to survive alone. I somehow felt a connection with it. Immediately I scooped him up and cautiously placed him in a cardboard box with towels, mimicking a nest, and stayed up all night researching how to care for him.
The next day, he seemed to regain some energy. He woke with his mouth open, though still too weak to let out a call. I fed him some food and chirped (叽喳) at him. To my amusement, he chirped back and even climbed into my hand. I affectionately gazed at this adorable creature, who was now boldly pecking (啄) my fingers now and then. A surge of warmth ran through me. Tenderly stroking his feathers, I chirped a lullaby, singing him to sleep. Gradually, his eyes drooped and he drifted off. I couldn’t help but chuckle at the scene — as far as he was concerned, I was his mother.
Para 1. “I will take care of you.” I murmured, making my promise to him.
__________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________Para 2. At that moment I realized that as I dedicated myself to the finch’s care, something within me changed.
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