1 . What makes a gift special? Is it the price you see on the gift receipt? Or is it the look on the recipient's face when they receive it that determines the true value? What gift is worth the most?
This Christmas I was debating what to give my father. My dad is a hard person to buy for because he never wants anything. I pulled out my phone to read a text message from my mom saying that we were leaving for Christmas shopping for him when I came across a message on my phone that I had locked. The message was from my father. My eyes fell on a photo of a flower taken in Wyoming, and underneath a poem by William Blake. The flower, a lone dandelion standing against the bright blue sky, inspired me. My dad had been reciting those words to me since I was a kid. That may even be the reason why I love writing. I decided that those words would be my gift to my father.
I called back. I told my mom to go without me and that I already created my gift. I sent the photo of the cream-colored flower to my computer and typed the poem on top of it. As I was arranging the details another poem came to mind. The poem was written by Edgar Allan Poe; my dad recited it as much as he did the other. I typed that out as well and searched online for a background to the words of it. The poem was focused around dreaming, and after searching I found the perfect picture. The image was painted with blues and greens and purples, twisting together to create the theme and wonder of a dream. As I watched both poems passing through the printer, the white paper coloring with words that shaped my childhood. I felt that this was a gift that my father would truly appreciate.
Christmas soon arrived. The minute I saw the look on my dad’s face as he unwrapped those swirling black letters carefully placed in a cheap frame, I knew I had given the perfect gift.
1. The author’s inspiration for the gift came from ________.| A．a photo of a flower | B．a story about a kid |
| C．a call from the mother | D．a text about Christmas |
| A．the father | B．the author | C．William Blake | D．Edgar Allan Poe |
| A．searching for the poem online | B．drawing the background by hand |
| C．painting the letters in three colors | D．matching the words with pictures |
| A．To show how to design images for gifts. |
| B．To suggest making gifts from one’s heart. |
| C．To explain how computers help create gifts. |
| D．To describe the gifts the author has received. |
2 . To Be a Deaf DJ
I was born in England with perfect hearing. In 1990, when I was five, my family moved to the United States. I started getting ear infections every three months or so. We didn’t have health insurance at the time, and when I got a third infection, my parents couldn’t afford the treatment. I went deaf in my right ear and was left with 50 percent hearing in my left. Over time, my remaining hearing dropped to 20 percent, where it is today. My doctors predicted that I would be thoroughly deaf by now, and I think I’m doing pretty well.
There was always music on in my house in my childhood. I loved listening to Metallica, Led Zeppelin, Michael Jackson. My dad was a DJ, so he played disco, folk, rock, and music from other countries. For my 18th birthday, my dad asked me to deejay at the restaurant. After doing that for a few weeks, I was interested in it. I desired to learn more. I e-mailed DJ Shiftee, a distinguished New York City DJ, “I know you like a challenge. How about teaching a deaf person to deejay?” He wrote back the next day, “Challenge accepted.” He tutored me twice a week for two years, helping me develop correct technique. I practiced four hours a day.
Now when I’m performing, muscle memory takes over. When I started, I wouldn’t tell the club managers that I was deaf. I would just show up, introduce myself, and start playing music. At the end of the night, someone would say, “Oh, here’s the check.” And I’d say, “What? Oh, I can’t hear.” They were always so astonished. Sometimes I would bring doctor’s notes because they wouldn’t believe me. It was reassurance that they were giving me opportunities to perform because I was brilliant, not out of sympathy. Eventually people started calling me “that deaf DJ,” and the name stuck.
What fascinates me about deejaying is the creativity. I use software that turns the music into lines of color on a computer screen. I’m visually hearing the music. The next time you go dancing, cover your ears, and you’ll start seeing that you’re able to hear the music in a different way. Music is not all about hearing. I pay all sorts of get-togethers now, from college parties to corporate events. I also go to elementary schools for the deaf and talk to the students about motivation and believing in themselves. I tell the parents, “My advice to you is let your kids chase their dreams. I’m a deaf DJ, so why not?”
1. Which of the following might result in the author’s hearing loss?| A．Monthly ear infection. | B．Moving to the U. S. |
| C．Family financial hardship. | D．The doctors’ prediction. |
| A．He taught him correct skills. | B．He discovered his talent for DJ. |
| C．He played at the restaurant for him. | D．He cultivated his taste for foreign music. |
| A．the author was in low spirits | B．the author impressed people deeply |
| C．the audience felt disappointed by the player | D．the audience looked down upon the player |
| A．working as a DJ involves creating | B．music helps him to see the world virtually |
| C．he motivates the kids to realize their dream | D．he desires to challenge something impossible |
3 . I was born in the city of York,in England,in the year 1632.My father was a man of some wealth,able to give me a good home and send me to school.It was his wish that I should be a lawyer but my head began to be filled very early with thoughts of travel,and I would be satisfied with nothing but going to sea.My father gave me strong advice against it,but with little effect.One day,being at Hull,I met a school-fellow who was about to sail for London in his father’s ship,and he invited me to go with him,and in an evil hour,without asking God’s blessing or my father’s,I went on board.
On the way to London,a storm arose,the ship was wrecked,and we barely escaped with our lives.I went on foot to London,where I met with the master of a vessel which traded to the coast of Africa.He took a fancy to me,and offered me a chance to go with him on his voyages,which I gladly accepted.
A great storm came up,and the ship was tossed about for many days,until we did not know where we were.Suddenly we struck a bank of sand,and the sea broke over the ship in such a way that we could not hope to have her hold many moments without breaking into pieces.So in this distress we launched a boat.After we had been driven four or five miles,a mountainous wave struck us so hard that it overturned the boat at once.Though I swam well,the waves were so strong that I was dashed against a rock with such force that it left me senseless.But I recovered a little before the waves returned,and,running forward,got to the mainland safely.
1. Why did the author go on foot to London?| A．The ship he took was destroyed in a storm. |
| B．His father did not supply the fare for the journey. |
| C．He went against his father's strong advice not to do so. |
| D．His school-fellow invited him to go together. |
| A．They knew they were near the shore. |
| B．The big waves were about to overturn the ship. |
| C．Their ship had been knocked about for many days on the sea. |
| D．Their ship had struck sand and was about to break into pieces. |
| A．searched everywhere for his lost companions |
| B．fell down on the ground senseless |
| C．was safe and sound |
| D．ran forward to escape being washed back into the sea |
| A．knew he was in Africa |
| B．did not know where he was |
| C．was not aware he was back in England |
| D．got in touch with his family and asked for help |
4 . Growing Up in the Library
I grew up in libraries, or at least it feels that way. I was raised in the suburbs of Cleveland, just a few blocks from the brick-faced Bertram Woods branch of the Shaker Heights Public Library system. I went there several times a week with my mother. She and I would walk in together, but as soon as we passed through the door, we each headed towards our favorite sections. The library might have been the first place I was ever given autonomy.
Even when I was maybe four or five years old, I was allowed to head off on my own. Then, after a while, my mother and I would reunite at the checkout counter with our finds. Together we'd wait as the librarian pulled out the date card and stamped it with the checkout machine ― that giant fist thumping the card with a loud chunk-chunk, printing a crooked due date underneath a score of previous crooked due dates that belonged to other people, other times.
Those visits were dreamy, frictionless (没有摩擦的) periods that held the promise of leaving me richer than I’d arrived. It wasn’t like going to a store with my mom, which guaranteed a tug-of-war between what I wanted and what my mother was willing to buy me; in the library, I could have anything I wanted.
After we had finished checking out the books, I loved being in the car and having all the books we’d gotten stacked on my lap, pressing me under their solid, warm weight, their Mylar covers sticking a bit to my thighs. It was such a thrill leaving a place with things you hadn’t paid for; such a thrill expecting the new books we would read. On the ride home, my mother and I talked about the order in which we were going to read our books, a serious conversation in which we planned how to pace ourselves through this charmed period of grace until the books were due.
When I was older, I usually walked to the library by myself, lugging back as many books as I could carry. Occasionally, I did go with my mother, and the trip would be as engaging as it had been when I was small. Even when I was in my last year of high school and could drive myself to the library, my mother and I still went together every now and then, and the trip unfolded exactly as it had when I was a child, with all the same beats and pauses and comments and daydreaming, the same perfect rhythm we’d followed so many times before. After my mother passed away two years ago, I plunged into a deep shadow of grief for a long time. When I miss my mother these days, I like to picture us in the car together, going for one more magnificent trip to Bertram Woods, during which we talked, laughed ― as if she were still in my company, giving me inexhaustible strength
1. In this passage, the word “autonomy” (paragraph 1) is closest in meaning to “__________.”| A．vitality | B．freedom | C．inspiration | D．entitlement |
| A．they would plan to read their newly-borrowed books with feverish enthusiasm |
| B．they would have a serious conversation about which book attracted them the most |
| C．they would be anxious to recommend to each other the books they had borrowed |
| D．they would agree on buying the books they had just borrowed if they enjoyed them |
| A．One specific memory of a childhood trip to the library. |
| B．The fond childhood memories of her mother taking good care of her. |
| C．How her affection for going to the library has endured into her own motherhood. |
| D．Why her own child made up their mind to become a librarian after finishing college. |
5 . When she was ten years old, Isadora Duncan dropped out of school to teach people dance. If that job was left to any other ten-year-old, it would have turned out frustrating, difficult, and a little discouraging.
But Duncan was different. Not only was she already talented enough to earn money even at that age, but she also had a rare kind of confidence that helped her treat troubles as fuel —something to elevate the fire that is already burning inside of her.
It’s no surprise, then, that when she moved to New York to join a theatre company, she found herself restricted. The existing dancing style, their way of operating—all of this seemed to her the work of a misguided past. Duncan was very direct about what she wanted, confidently telling people she had a different vision of dance that she was going to spread in the world. This, naturally, led to ridicule and laughs early on, but as she built up her work, these instances became less frequent. Today, she is remembered as “The Mother of Dance,” with much of the modern art owing its expressive style to her influence. Inspired by the ancient Greeks, she brought the style to life.
In her autobiography (自传), one of the things Duncan frequently refers to as the basis of her expressive spirit is the fact that she had a childhood where she wasn’t constantly watched. The expectations of her mother (who raised her) were open-ended. It was the freedom of this lifestyle that drove her to see what she could do.
Growing up, before she left school, she was told one of two things: that she was either completely useless or that she was a genius. There was nothing in between. Even when she started working, people either bowed to her or they basically ignored her. But there wasn’t one moment Duncan doubted her own genius.
There is an old quotation “if you judge a fish by its ability to climb a tree, it will live its whole life believing that it is stupid.” And it captures an important truth. At school, Isadora Duncan was a failure. In the dance hall, she gave form to brilliance.
1. What does the underlined phrase “treat troubles as fuel” mean?| A．Duncan used troubles to push her forward towards her dream. |
| B．Duncan was good at burning away everyday troubles. |
| C．Troubles turned Duncan into a confident girl. |
| D．Troubles lit the fire of dancing in Duncan. |
| A．Her experience in New York was the foundation of her career. |
| B．Her teaching job when she was little destroyed her confidence. |
| C．Her dancing style was not very well received at the beginning. |
| D．Her mother set higher expectation on her than she could bear. |
| A．It is useless climbing a tree to catch fish. |
| B．Everybody is a genius in his own way. |
| C．Miseries come from human stupidity. |
| D．Teachers can impact students greatly. |
| A．Isadora Duncan’s childhood and her achievements today. |
| B．Duncan’s career development and other dancers’ opinions of her. |
| C．Isadora Duncan’s early experiences and the reasons for her success. |
| D．Duncan’s high status in the dancing world and her unique expressive style. |
6 . The Daffodil Lesson
It was a bleak rainy day, and I had no desire to drive up the winding mountain road to my daughter Caronlyn’s house. But she had insisted that I come see something at the top of the mountain.
So here I was, reluctantly making the two-hour journey through fog that hung like veils. By the time I was how thick it was near the summit. I’d gone too far to turn back. Nothing could be worth this, I thought as I inched along the dangerous highway.
“I’ll stay for lunch, but I’m heading back down as soon as the fog lifts,” I announced when I arrived.
“But I need you to drive me to the garage to pick up my car” Caronlyn said. “Could we at least do that?”
“How far is it I asked.
“About three minutes”, she said I’ll drive--I’m used to it
After ten minutes on the mountain road, I looked at her anxiously. "I thought you said three minutes."
She grinned. “This is a detour（绕道）”
Turning down a narrow track, we parked the car and got out. We walked along a path that was thick with old pine needles. Huge black-green evergreens towards over us. Gradually the peace and silence of the place began to fill my mind.
Then we turned a corner and stooped-and I gasped in amazement.
From the top of the mountain, sloping for several acres across folds and valleys, were rivers of daffodils in radiant bloom. A profusion(大量) of color-from the palest ivory to the deepest lemon to the most vivid salmon-blazed like a carpet before us. It looked as though the sun had tipped over and spilled gold down the mountainside. At the center there was a waterfall of purple flowers. Here and there were coral-colored tulips. Western bluebirds frolicked（嬉戏）over the heads of the daffodils, their tawny breasts and sapphire wings like a flutter of jewels.
A riot of question filled my mind. Who created such beauty?Why?How?
As we approached the home that stood in the center of the property, we saw a sign that read: “Answers to the Question I Know You Are Asking.”
The first answer was “One Woman-Two Hands, Two Feet, and Very Little Brain.: The second was:” One at a Time,” The third:” Started in 1958.”
As we drove home, I was so moved by what we had been, I could scarcely speak. “She changed the world,” I finally said, “one bulb at a time. She started almost 40 years ago, probably just the beginning of an idea, but she kept at it.”
The wonder of it would not let me go. “Imagine,” I said, “if I’d had a vision and worked at it, just a little bit every day, what might I have accomplished?”
Carolyn looked at me sideways, smiling. “Start tomorrow,” she said.
“Better yet, start today.”
1. The passage is mainly about .| A．a successful gardener | B．an inspiring gardening lesson |
| C．a worthwhile travelling experience | D．an unexpected countryside scenery |
| A．the road twisted and turned along the mountain |
| B．the fog crowning the mountain lifted eventually |
| C．the owner of the filed came to answer her questions |
| D．the vast stretch of daffodil field took her breath away |
| A．The beautiful daffodil field was all along the road. |
| B．The author and her daughter planned the journey well. |
| C．The owner of the field spent a lot of time working in the field. |
| D．The author planned to work in the daffodil field the next day. |
| A．East or west, home is best. | B．It is never too old to learn. |
| C．Birds of a feather flock together. | D．Rome is not built in a day. |
