As I unzipped my lunchbox, the whole place was turned into a spicy curry (咖喱) dream. I immediately hid it under my seat, hoping no one would take notice.
Mom had really outdone herself with masala — our family’s all-time favorite dish back in India. But today, it wasn’t just about me and my lunch. A warm smile on his face, Ricky invited me, a new transfer student from India to New York city, for lunch.
“Ava, come sit here!” Ricky called out, gesturing towards a vacant seat.
As I made my way over, memories of those awkward lunchtimes when I studied in Kansas, one of the most conservative states, flooded back. I could still recall how everyone would wrinkle their noses and stare curiously when I unpacked my Indian food. It always made me feel like an outsider, like I didn’t belong.
Therefore, before my first day in this school, I had demanded my mom pack “normal” western-style food for me. I still remembered the look on her face upon hearing it, as she signed in disappointment and confusion, “Isn’t there a moment when you feel proud of your origin?” That was hurting, but not more hurting than others’ giggles and whispers. Honestly, long queues were common in Indian restaurants in New York city, a cultural melting pot, but I wouldn’t take that risk.
Unfortunately, this morning, Mom had forgotten to make sandwich or any “normal” food, so I had to bring leftovers from our dinner. At the thought of the possible oh-no-second (社死), I felt like being thrown into darkness.
However, before I came back to reality, Ricky noticed my sneaking (躲躲藏藏). “What do you have for lunch?” he asked, his eyes twinkling with interest. I tried to brush it off (搪塞), claiming I wasn’t hungry. But Ricky wouldn’t let it go, and before I could protest, he had the lid of my lunchbox open and I prepared myself for such familiar responses as “Ew” or “What is that?”
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。
However, I did not get what I was expecting.
____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________After school, I found Mom preparing sandwich for tomorrow’s lunch.
____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________I still remember what I felt on a bright Saturday morning in late September, at a five-kilometer race in Clarkston, Georgia.
It was an unusual morning. About an hour earlier, when we drove into town to participate in the race, my 11-year-old son noticed a green tree cricket（蟋蟀） on my car. It was friendly, no longer than a fingernail. It jumped onto my son’s finger, and walked across my shirt, and then went back to my son’s hand, where it stayed so long that we eventually gave it a name: Little Friend.
The walk from the car to the registration table was perhaps a quarter of a mile. Little Friend stayed with my son. Then, we walked back across the railroad tracks and waited for the race to start. A few minutes before the race, Little Friend either fell or jumped off my son’s hand and landed on the sidewalk. Maybe it wanted to go free. But this was not a good place for that. Pedestrian（行人） traffic was heavy, so Little Friend was in danger. My son knelt and reached out his hand. It came back.
The race was about to start, and the tiny green insect was in for a wild ride. My son would run fast, and the race would be long. The race began. I ran well enough, and felt excited at the finish line. But that thrill gave way to anxiety when my son didn’t show up.
I knew he could run 5 kilometers in about 30 minutes. When I didn’t see him at the 35-minute mark, I began to wonder what had gone wrong. And as the 40-minute mark approached and he still didn’t appear, I went out looking for him. Had he got lost? I crossed the railroad tracks and looked down a long straightaway, hoping to see his face. Finally, there he was, just ahead of the 45-minute mark.
注意：1. 续写词数应为150个左右；
2. 请按如下格式在答题卡的相应位置作答。
Little Friend was riding proudly on one finger of my son’s right hand.
_______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________Smiling, we walked back to the car with Little Friend.
_______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________One day my mom and I read a story on a magazine called Humane Society News. A wild dog named Solo died for lack of medical care after he was ill. I knew how sad the story was because my own dog, Kela, had recently died. My world had ended when I lost Kela. She had been my best friend since I could remember. The article continued to tell about wildlife rehabilitators. They nursed the sick animals back to health, but as more and more animals were rescued, the medical expense became a big burden for them. I immediately determined to do something for them. I may be a kid, but why can’t I do a fund-raiser to help save more dogs?
My mom thought it was hard for an eleven-year-old girl to raise, but she told me to go ahead and try it anyway. I realized that I needed a name for the fund-raiser and thought since I was trying to protect dogs’ life, I would call my program Help Dogs. I decided that pet stores would be really good places to go with donation boxes and Help Dogs flyers (传单). I used little green Chinese take-out boxes, decorated with a picture of Tiko, one of the dogs I chose to help, and me. I wrote on each box “Help protect the life of dogs by donating a dollar”. I thought my actions might not raise much money for the dogs, but they can at least increase people’s awareness of wild animals protection.
One afternoon, after all the boxes had been distributed throughout our community, I got a call from a local newspaper reporter who had seen one of my flyers. The reporter decided to do an article about Help Dogs. After the article came out, I waited for a few days before checking to see if there were any donations.
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 was really nervous when I finally went to collect the money.
__________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________I realized many people feel the same way as I did but didn’t know how to help.
__________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________It was just another boring day for Jamie, a third-grader. He sat in his English class, mindlessly doodling on his notebook.
“Jamie Turner, please report to the principal’s office immediately.”
Jamie’s heart sank. With his mind racing, Jamie grabbed his backpack and made the long walk down the hallway to the principal’s office, avoiding eye contact with fellow students. As he walked, he searched his brain for any possible explanations for why he was being called.
Jamie finally reached the principal’s office. He took a deep breath and pushed it open, bracing himself for the worst.
To his surprise, he found the principal, Mr. Harrison who was wearing a giant yellow chicken hat on his head, standing on his desk and waving his arms as if he were trying to fly!
Jamie’s mouth fell open at the sight, too stunned to speak.
“Jamie, sit down,” Mr. Harrison exclaimed, gesturing him to take a seat. “I’ve called you here because we’ve been having some complaints about your behavior. You’ve been… too funny.”
Jamie’s jaw dropped further. Was that really the reason he was called to the principal’s office?
The principal continued, his tone serious, “Now, we take our education very seriously here, and while we appreciate a good sense of humor, we have to draw the line somewhere. We cannot have students disturbing the learning environment with their… their humor.”
Jamie couldn’t help it—he burst out laughing, doubling over in his seat as he gasped for breath.
Finally, Jamie managed to compose himself enough to speak. “I’m sorry, sir, it’s just… I can’t stop laughing at the thought of getting in trouble for laughing… and your hat! It’s ridiculous!”
The principal frowned, “Well, I’m glad you find it funny. But your teachers don’t.”
Jamie nodded seriously, trying to contain his laughter. “I understand, sir. I’ll be less funny in class.” “Um, Mr. Harrison, why are you wearing a chicken hat?” Jamie asked, unable to contain his curiosity.
“Oh, today is Animal Day for the first-graders.” Mr. Harrisjon grinned.
_______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________“Really, Mr. Harrison? You think I’m that good for the upcoming school Comedy Festival?” Jamie asked.
_______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________Steven Price is the class clown and has an unyielding (执着的) passion for coins. He tells silly jokes and asks dumb riddles while Ms. Redfield is trying to teach. “Ms. Redfield,” said Steven. “What have a head and a tail, but no body?”
“I don’t know,” said Ms. Redfield. “Coins!” Steven laughed and laughed.
When his attention is diverted (转移) from coins, he finds amusement in playing tricks. I don’t mind when Steven plays tricks on Ms. Redfield or on some other kids. I just hate it when he plays tricks on me. I try to avoid or ignore him, but he gets me every time!
During recess (课间休息) on Monday, Steven was holding a small box in his hand. “Come and see what I’ve got,” he said to me. Before I could reject it, Steven lifted the lid. As the lid of the creaks opened, a horrifying clown figure sprang forth with a sudden burst of energy. Its painted bloody grin stretched unnaturally wide, revealing rows of sharp, jagged (锯齿状的) teeth. I was startled! My heart raced as the clown’s high-pitched cackle (咯咯的笑) echoed through the classroom. “You nearly gave me a heart attack!” I said. Steven just made a face and disappeared.
On Tuesday, we were studying measurement. Steven asked me to help him measure part of the hallway for his project. I told him I was busy working on my own math problem. “This will just take a minute!” he said. He had a piece of string 30 feet long. He wanted to see if it would reach to the cafeteria. I held one end of the string, and Steven went down the hall and around the corner. Pretty soon I felt the string get tight. I thought he was measuring. Keeping holding the string, I thought he would come right back.
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。
Ms. Redfield came around the corner, looking strangely at me.
_____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________On Wednesday, I decided to fight back and play a trick on Steven.
_____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________Having been down on myself and unhappy in my marriage I spent the week not being very nice to anyone in my family. I felt myself distancing myself from those people that were not the root of my anger. Those little people with sweet innocent eyes were wondering why there was no love in her actions. I pushed my daughter away as she tried to hug me. Though I saw the pain in her eyes, I didn’t know how to change what I was feeling. I saw more pain in their little eyes when I served them dinner and turned and walked out of the room and didn’t join them for their last meal of the day.
For years I had made such a big deal out of having dinner as a family but during this time of heartache that I was experiencing I just couldn’t bring myself to be with them. I began to feel angry with them. It would be so easy to change my life without having them to think about. And how many times had I heard that I needed to do what was best for the kids? Did nobody care what was best for me?
Then I watched a show on TV that made me realize what I was doing to these poor kids. During this time of self pity, I was leaving them a memory, a bad memory that they could look back on. I didn’t want that to happen. I needed to pull myself up by the bootstrings and get out of the pity pot. I needed to take control of my own life. Not only for my own sake but for my kids too.
That night I went to sleep with calm thoughts in my head. The issues in my marriage had not been resolved but the issues I had with myself had. I knew what I had to do to better my life and my children’s too.
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。
The next morning I prepared and ate breakfast with my three wonderful kids.
_________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________My story told me a lot.
_________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________Every Sunday, the competition started. The three of us would set our alarm clocks to wake up earlier than anyone else. I had set my alarm clock to six in the morning, hoping that my brothers wouldn't start before me.
Beep. Beep. Beep. Groaning, I reached over to my nightstand and slapped the top of my alarm clock. “Too early on this cold winter day,” I murmured. I curled back into my warm blanket and fell asleep again.
My eyes blinked open to the whirring sound of the vacuum cleaner. “They chose their chores first!” I thought with despair. I jumped up from my bed and rushed to the bathroom, where I started the only chore that was left for me. I would definitely be shoveling (铲) the driveway while they built an igloo (冰屋) , I thought cheerlessly, rubbing and wiping madly at the toilet bowl.
When I finished cleaning the toilet and sink, my brothers came into the bathroom to watch me clean the bathtub as they mocked me about how I'd overslept and got stuck with the longest chore. “Whoever finishes last has to shovel the driveway, remember?” my older brother reminded me with a triumphant smile when we put on our big coats and snow pants to go outside.
The three of us stepped outside into the knee-deep snow and shielded our eyes from the brightness. My brothers wasted no time and dashed off to play in the yard, leaving me behind to tackle the frustrating task of shoveling the driveway. With a heavy sigh, I inched through the thick snow to the driveway, my boots sinking with each step. I grunted (嘟哝) with effort as my brothers yelled with joy. Sunday would never be my day, I sighed.
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。
Suddenly, I heard the sound of a shovel rubbing against the driveway concrete.
___________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________After we finished, we sat inside the igloo, laughing about our morning adventures.
___________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________December 16, 2009 was the worst day of my mother’s life. It was the day I told her that her thirty-six-year-old daughter had stage Ⅲbreast cancer. I will never forget the look of hopelessness in her tear-filled eyes as I told her. Seeing my mother so b uncontrollably broke my heart. It was one of the few times in my life that I saw my mother weak and vulnerable (脆弱的).
Since I had been diagnosed with advanced breast cancer, the doctors had a heavy-duty plan of attack to beat it, which would mean a double mastectomy (切除), five months of chemotherapy (化疗), and five weeks of radiation. It also meant that an independent single woman who lived alone was in serious need of some help taking care of herself.
Thankfully, I was blessed with my own personal army of family, friends, and co-workers who had offered to help me out with whatever I might need, including meals and rides to doctors’ appointments. But as grateful as I was, there really was only one person who I wanted by my side—my mom. My mother lived more than 300 miles away, but didn’t even give it a second thought. She was going to be my primary caregiver, driver, personal chef, counselor, and shoulder to cry on. No one else in the world could fill her shoes. It was a job that only she could do.
The night after my first chemotherapy treatment is forever imprinted in my memory. I was never so sick in my entire life. I couldn’t even keep down a glass of water. And after hours spent in the bathroom, I weakly lifted myself into bed, weeping, “Please, take this away from me. Please make me feel better.” At that moment, my mother crawled into bed with me, wrapped her entire body around me, and cried with me. Just like when I was a little girl, her arms enveloping me made it better.
注意：1.续写词数应为150个左右；
2.请按如下格式在答题卡的相应位置作答。
In the following months, my mom experienced real hardship.
_________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________I feel greatly moved by what my mother did.
_________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________The dog days of summer in Central Texas are hot and damp. It was a pity that our home didn’t have air conditioning. Momma and I were just trying to get through this August afternoon the best we could. Reading helped take our minds off the heat. Momma was stretched across the sofa, a pillow (枕头) under her head, reading. I sat on the floor, leaning (倚靠) back against the sofa, a curious nine-year-old in shorts sharing a fan’s flow. My book rested on the floor.
I looked at the thin hardcover my mom was reading, Ed Nichols Rode a Horse. There was a cowboy riding his horse on the front cover, but otherwise the book appeared plain and unimpressive. Before I settled, I asked, “Momma, what’s your book about?”
“It’s a story about a man, his horse and the hardships he encountered in Texas. Some of it takes place in Bosque County,” she answered.
With that, my mom returned to her story. I knew Bosque County was near where Momma had grown up. And I also knew it was best if I didn’t ask any more questions. My mom took her reading seriously.
We’d been reading for the better part of an hour-the only sounds were those that came from the fan and an occasional turn of a page — when I heard something unfamiliar. The sniffling (抽鼻子) back of tears.
I turned in her direction and saw something I’d never seen before: my mom crying. Something big — really big must have happened. My mom did not cry.
“Momma, what’s wrong?” I got up on my knees, staring directly into her face. “Are you all right?” “Jennifer, I’m fine.” Momma sat up and wiped (擦) her eyes. “You don’t need to be concerned.”
I wasn’t buying it. This was not normal behavior. “Why were you crying?” I asked in a whisper. She looked at me hard. “The book made me cry,” she replied.
I was trying to figure out how that plain-looking book could make my mostly no-nonsense momma cry when she said the most amazing thing. “The story made me sad when the horse got hurt.”
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。
That’s when I learned the truth that stories affect us.
____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________I read Ed Nichols Rode a Horse from cover to cover with a big plan forming in my mind.
____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________As a child I dreamed of becoming a scientist. I mapped my life out: I’d study neuroscience at a top university and proceed to do a master’s, a Ph. D., and a postdoc, all of which would somehow lead to a prosperous career. But it didn’t go quite as planned.
During the research part of my master’s degree, I found myself putting in 8 hours of work per day with little enthusiasm. I wasn’t ready to let go of my dream, however. I decided to apply to Ph. D. programs. After numerous rejections, I got accepted into a program in Zurich.
I was relieved, but I also doubted whether I was the right person for the job. Within 2 years, it became clear that I was failing to master the skills I needed, and I found the work no more satisfying than during my master’s. My mental health worsened. I would lie in bed wide awake for hours. I struggled with whether to quit: If I gave up, all the years I had devoted to academia would turn out a waste of time. Then a friend noticed my mental and physical exhaustion. “Is this you. George? ” he asked one day. After hearing those words, all of my hesitation about quitting disappeared. I resigned the next day.
It felt liberating to be honest with myself about a path that wasn't meant for me. Still, I needed to decide what to do next. I thought about a lecture I had recently attended. “If only we could get the general public to feel the awe (敬畏) that I’m feeling!” I remember thinking at the time. That got me wondering whether writing and communicating about science might be a good profession.
I looked around and came across exceptional news features in science magazines, written by individuals without a Ph. D. I began to think I could have a career writing about general science and the work of scientists and researchers.
注意：1. 续写词数应为150个左右；
2. 请按如下格式在答题卡的相应位置作答。
I signed up for a feature writing course.
____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________I feel as though I’m on the right path now, writing about public health.
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