My Own Label
It seemed to me that I had two different identities when I was in fifth grade. Outside of school, I was a reasonably happy kid who enjoyed spending time with my friends, reading or listening to rock music. When I was in class, however, I turned into a very different Denise, one who was on guard all the time, and one who wanted nothing more than to get through the day without being teased.
To my classmates I was strange, because I wasn’t just like them. The most obvious thing they focused on was that I didn’t wear the same designer clothes as they did. Designer clothes were beyond my family’s reach. My mother was a single parent, and she worked long hours to support our small household. As far as love and attention were concerned, I was rich beyond all imagination. I was supported and cared for. The only thing that my classmates cared for was fashion, though, and there, I was poor.
I never knew if my classmates would torment (戏弄) me in class, but on the bus I could count on it. My trips to and from school were the horrific, painful bookends to stressful days. One girl made a point of running over to my seat every morning to see what I was wearing, and then returned to her friends to laugh about it. I shrank into myself and stared out the window.
I was the smallest girl in my class. One of my classmates’ mothers noticed, and offered me a beautiful skirt that her daughter had outgrown. I wore it happily, thrilled to have a cool item of clothing for once. When I outgrew the skirt, my mother bought me a new one of my own, one without a label. When my classmate saw it, she shouted on purpose, “Oh, that’s not my skirt, is it? Where did you get this one, Denise? The poorhouse?” My classmates burst into laughter, and I slipped away, my eyes locked on the ground. I stopped wearing the skirt.
注意：
1.续写词数应为 150左右；
2.请按如下格式作答。
After fifth grade ended, over the summer, I spent a month at a day camp.
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With the love and support of my new friends, I became more confident.
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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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3 . Everyone dreams of pleasure, but few know how to obtain it and at what cost. Surprisingly, some of the most useful tips come not from modern psychology but from a 2,000-year-old Greek philosopher, Epicurus.
Yes, he dreamed of a life of pleasure but not as we typically think of the word. For Epicurus, pleasure consisted not of a presence of anything but an absence—a complete lack of anxiety. “It is better for you to lie upon a bed of straw and be free of fear, than to have a huge palace yet be troubled in mind,” he said.
We now live in a golden age of pleasure. So many options lie just a click away: delicious food, better smartphones and nicer cars…
“Such things are traps,” Epicurus would say. “Beyond a certain point, pleasure cannot be increased—just as a bright sky cannot get any brighter—but only varied. The new smartphones or cars represent pleasure varied, not increased. That is why the new car that thrilled you on the test drive bores you after a month on the road. Yet our entire consumer culture is based on the assumption that pleasure varied equals pleasure increased. It leads to needless unhappiness.”
Epicurus also thought a lot about a question we have ignored very often: How much is enough? “Live a natural life and welcome whatever goodness comes its way. Don’t grow dependent on unnatural pleasures since each of them comes with hidden costs-not only monetary but also psychological,” Epicurus would say. “Don’t live beyond your natural needs. Nature has made the necessary desires easy to satisfy and the unnecessary ones difficult. Bananas grow on trees. Expensive cars don’t. Natural desire will guide us toward the highest pleasures and away from the unnecessary ones.”
Friendship, Epicurus thought, is life’s greatest pleasure, especially during mealtimes. “To eat and drink alone is to devour like the lion and the wolf,” he said. “The meal does not have to be good. With the right mindset, and in the right company, even a simple pot of cheese will turn out to be a feast.”
1. What did Epicurus consider important for a happy life?| A．A lot of money. | B．Ambition for a palace. |
| C．Equal opportunities | D．Freedom from anxiety. |
| A．Types of consumer goods. | B．Rich choices in our age. |
| C．Traps of consumer culture. | D．Convenience in modern life. |
| A．The unnatural pleasure. | B．The natural need. |
| C．The unnecessary desire. | D．The highest happiness. |
| A．He enjoyed exchanging ideas with his friends. |
| B．His followers would like unaffordable foods. |
| C．He avoided having dinner with other people. |
| D．His lifestyle was very popular in ancient Greece. |
4 . In the spring of 2013, my wife and I opened Literati Bookstore in Ann Arbor, Michigan. Opening a community-minded independent bookstore was a dream we’d shared. We were in our late twenties, pursuing adream.
When opening day arrived, we unlocked the door and held our breath. One by one, people walked inside, paged through new books, and discussed favourite authors. The bookstore came alive.
That morning, I had set out a typewriter on our lower level for anyone to use. It was a community-building experiment: What if people could walk into a bookstore and type anything they wanted?
The first typewriter I ever fell in love with was my grandfather’s -a 1930s Smith Corona. My memory of him is limited to impressions: visits to his Florida apartment, beach picnics, and a fascinating black typewriter on his writing desk. One year, long after he passed, Grandma gave me his Smith Corona for Christmas. At the time, I was a struggling writer. Seeing his old typewriter again stirred something in me. His typewriter made writing fun again. And for the first time since his death, I felt connected to him, to a past I never really knew.
The typewriter I set out on opening day was a light blue Olivetti Lettera 32. I inserted a clean piece of paper and let it be: the world’s smallest publishing house, waiting for an author. One of the notes I found that first day was: Thank you for being here. I didn’t see the typer’s identity, so it appeared as though the typewriter itself was thanking me. Soon, more notes accumulated. Typewriting had become part of our bookstore’s identity.
Customers and friends began encouraging me to turn these notes into a book. At first, I was hesitant. But then I read through the piles of messy, typewritten pages again. Some made me tear up; many made me laugh out loud. They shouldn’t be locked inside my filing cabinet at home. Inside our store, surrounded by books that have been labored over by authors, editors, and marketers, there’s a way for people to publish directly into the world in permanent ink spelling errors and all.
1. Why did the author set out a typewriter in the bookstore?| A．To honour his grandfather. |
| B．To provide convenience to customers. |
| C．To offer people a way to express themselves. |
| D．To respond to community residents’ requirement. |
| A．Curious. | B．Amused. | C．Surprised. | D．Inspired. |
| A．There was a publishing house in the bookstore. |
| B．The bookstore was famous for its unique typewriter. |
| C．The typewritten notes were full of spelling errors. |
| D．The author would publish a book consisting of those notes. |
| A．Nothing is impossible to a willing heart. |
| B．Everyone can be a writer of his own life. |
| C．It only takes a typewriter to be an author. |
| D．Books are the ever-burning lamps of accumulated wisdom. |
5 . Now I live in Paris. Actually, I don’t mind the food or the people, but I do care about the land that is extraordinarily lack of characteristics of hiking. I enjoy being outdoors and hiking, but Paris’s natural resources don’t hold much potential for my bent. So when my dad asked if I wanted to go hiking with him, I was overjoyed.
We started our main hike up Flattop Mountain. As we hiked it was much more challenging than I expected.
I stared up at the top to see how much farther we had to go and I began to worry that I wouldn’t finish it.
As I was hiking, I started to reflect on how hiking was similar to other aspects of my life.
| A．Hiking could make me fly. |
| B．Hiking gave time for my mind to wander. |
| C．I thought I would finish the journey with ease. |
| D．But I was shocked at the beauty surrounding me. |
| E．I was satisfied with the landscape along the way. |
| F．It was unlike anything I had ever witnessed before. |
| G．A recent ankle injury had left me unsure of my physical capabilities. |
When we are having quarrels with others, it is easy to say or do hurtful things in anger. The verbal wound can be as bad as a physical one. And no matter how many times you say you are sorry, or how many years pass, the scar of those wounds will still be there. If we are wise, we will spend our time building bridges rather than barriers in our relationships.
Once upon a time there was a little boy who was talented, creative, handsome, and extremely bright. A natural leader. The kind of person everyone would normally have wanted on their team or project. But he was also self-centered and had a very bad temper. When he got angry, he usually said, and often did, some very hurtful things. In fact, he seemed to have little regard for those around him, even friends. So, naturally, he had few. “But, “he told himself, “that just shows how stupid most people are! “
One day at school, when having a craft class, his partner accidentally crushed a small part of their handiwork. The boy immediately got extremely angry, starting to criticize and tease her. “You disgust me! “After hearing those hurtful words, she started to cry uncontrollably. Before long, the girl began shutting herself away from everyone and was seized by a sense of worthlessness. Fortunately, under the guidance of teachers, she broke away from the trap of worthlessness. But she never talked with the boy.
Having known what happened at school, the boy’s parents became concerned about this personality flaw, and thought long and hard about what they should do. Finally, the father had an idea. And he struck a bargain with his son. He gave him a bag of nails, and a big hammer. “Whenever you lose your temper, “he told the boy, “I want you to really let it out. Just take a nail and drive it into the oak boards of that old fence out back. Hit that nail as hard as you can!
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 boy started to hit the nail, but it wasn’t as easy as it first sounded.
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To show him what remained in the fence, his father told him to pull out one nail each time he controlled his temper.
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7 . I have often thought of climbing Mount LeConte in the Smokies. But as I have gotten older, the thought seems less
As we
“No,” he replied. “that was last year.
That changed my view on my
| A．realistic | B．serious | C．exceptional | D．frightening |
| A．height | B．width | C．length | D．depth |
| A．locate | B．overlook | C．admire | D．access |
| A．idea | B．excuse | C．sign | D．chance |
| A．chatted | B．departed | C．struggled | D．prepared |
| A．newcomer | B．doctor | C．native | D．passerby |
| A．jobs | B．pastimes | C．challenges | D．missions |
| A．pleased | B．ashamed | C．shocked | D．amused |
| A．elder | B．year | C．businessman | D．lifetime |
| A．Fortunately | B．Usually | C．Hopefully | D．Particularly |
| A．dropped | B．opened | C．broke | D．tightened |
| A．All in all | B．Not at all | C．After all | D．Above all |
| A．proudly | B．fluently | C．carelessly | D．satisfactorily |
| A．manners | B．routines | C．expectations | D．career |
| A．turn | B．devote | C．expose | D．apply |
8 . Growing up in a Jamaican-American household, food was an important part of my childhood. I remember my grandmother preparing fried dumplings and curry mutton, jazz music playing in the background. Food was our greatest treasure. Food brought the family together. Food celebrated new beginnings and eased the wounds of life’s untimely endings.
When I was 8, I was diagnosed with a muscle disease, which caused me to spend most of my childhood in hospital rooms and wheelchairs, slowly gaining weight by swallowing prednisone (肾上腺皮质激素) hidden inside mint chocolate chip ice cream. My mom made it her duty to help me lose the weight through strict dieting. I’ve tried every single one. In fairness, my mother did the best she could. As a single mom, she felt this brought us closer. However, as an adult, I began to experience a paralyzing fear of food. My “I’ll start a new diet on Monday” mind-set lasted for 16 years as I uncontrollably ate and abused my body. I was worried that I was not attractive enough. So obsessed and afraid no one would hire me as an actress if I didn’t win the battle with the numbers on the scale, in February 2011 I attempted suicide and landed in the hospital for multiple days.
We do extreme things to our bodies because of those numbers. Numbers that cannot talk with us or love us. I have had to stop judging my belly, stop starving myself, stop getting on the scale and staring at those numbers. I have come to the realization that my life is more important than those numbers on the scale and that the quality of the life I live is more important than how I look in the mirror.
1. What role did food play in author’s childhood?| A．It healed her physical wounds. |
| B．It strengthened the family bond. |
| C．It was a source of family income. |
| D．It marked the end of someone’s life. |
| A．Making cooking her daily duty. |
| B．Limiting the author to a strict diet. |
| C．Raising the author as a single mom. |
| D．Preparing healthy food for the author. |
| A．Her worsening health state. |
| B．Her anxiety about unemployment. |
| C．Her intense hatred for food. |
| D．Her losing the fight with her disease. |
| A．Nervous. | B．Satisfied. |
| C．Disgusted. | D．Unconcerned. |
