“Did you hear what I said?” The band director was looking right at me. So was everyone else. “Yes, ma’am. You want me to do the solo (独奏) at the concert.” I said, trying to hide my fear.

I play the jazz saxophone (萨克斯管). I’m the best player in the sax section of my middle school band; I even do concerts with the senior high band. So, what’s my problem? Stage fright. Performing with a group is no problem. Butraying solo? I will freeze like a water balloon in deep space.

The band director continued, “By the way, the director of the Youth Symphony will be there. You know, if he hears someone who’s really good, he invites them to audition (试演).” I tried to look calm as I headed to the door, but the rock in my stomach had just doubled in weight. I’d dreamed of playing in the Youth Symphony for a long time but never had the courage to audition. I could pretend to be sick and stay home. But there are only two concerts each year, and missing one would be really a great pity.

“What should I do?” I went back home and headed downstairs. I usually practice in the basement. The family calls it Kevin’s Dungeon (地牢). I play great in the dungeon. It’s comfortable down there—just me, my sax, and my music. “Why can’t the school auditorium feel like my dungeon?” I said to myself. Then an idea occurred to me—how about sticking a photo of my dungeon inside the bell of my sax? Looking at it while playing might work for me. I immediately took action and practised and practised.

The day finally came. Suddenly, the lights went down, the curtain went up, and we were off and running. Each song started and ended, but it was like somebody else was playing my sax, not me. Then it was time—my solo.

I stood up and walked to the front of the stage.

With the last long note ending, the audience burst into applause.

Some kids play sports. They run hundreds of laps, and tackle, kick, or swing. Some kids do makeover parties. They pool their fashion magazines and organize their own spa hair salons. And some kids are computer geeks. Their programming ability is a thing of wonder.

Me? I had the spelling bee (拼字比赛). The bee was my World Series. And what happened during a Spelling Bee remained fresh in my memory.

I trained every day on my front steps after school, the dictionary pages rippling softly in the breeze. I formed a habit carrying around my buddies Longman, Webster, and Oxford.

As soon as I opened my eyes on Friday morning, I felt the hairs on my arm stand up. I glanced at my alarm clock—it was only 6:27. I usually woke up at 7:01, which meant I had an extra thirty-four minutes to study. Starting with the word “judgment” which I always spelt as “J-U-D-G-M-A-N-T”, I went over several words.

To calm my butterflies in my stomach, I reminded myself that I was one of the best spellers in my class. I was not ambitious enough to want to go to the Scripps National Spelling Bee or anything—I just wanted to win the bee at Meadowbrook Middle School, so that I could defeat my main enemy, Nathan Fortescue.

Nathan thought he was a better speller than I was, but he didn’t even study words. He just read tons of science and math books. Really, he wasn’t a speller at heart—he was a mathematician. Nathan and I had nothing in common except being good spellers, but since he was a good speller without even trying, it didn’t count. I bet if you gave Nathan a modern literature word like “denouement”, he’d be out on the first round.

The Spelling Bee wasn’t until after lunch, so all I did in the morning was stare at the clock and wondered how seconds could possibly pass by so slowly. I sneaked away from lunch early so I could get in a few extra minutes of study time.

As soon as I shut the classroom door behind me, I heard a voice.

“Now it’s time for the Spelling Bee!” Ms. Hawking said brightly.

When I was young, I always dreamed of playing the piano and giving performances to a large audience in a concert hall. However, I struggled to understand the musical notes and the theory. Despite my parents’ encouragement and offer of piano lessons, I pretended not to be interested, too afraid to try.

Many years passed until one day, at 25 years old, I heard that a new piano studio had opened in my neighborhood. The teacher was recruiting (招收) new students. My childhood dream came flooding back.

I remembered I had initially feared becoming a teacher after graduation. However, I overcame those doubts. I refused to let fear hold me back any longer, so I walked into the studio.

The teacher, Deb, welcomed me warmly. I was relieved to find we were contemporaries (同时代的人) and expressed my desire to play the works of Bach and Beethoven if I could overcome my fear. Deb understood and seemed sincere, so I signed up for 3 months of classes. Still doubtful about my commitment, I bought a small, tabletop electric organ to practice with at home. It wasn’t the same as a real piano, but enabled me to learn some basics.

Week by week, I attended lessons in Deb’s studio. I often passed young students on their way out from their lessons before mine. One day, noticing the textbooks in my bag, a child stopped me and asked, “Where’s your boy?” After some hesitation, I finally answered I was the student. The children then welcomed me and I sat in the studio and listened to a piece a child was working on.

Soon, I gained confidence and upgraded to a full-size piano at home for daily practice. After three rewarding years of lessons with Deb, she announced it was time for me and other students to prepare for a recital (钢琴演奏会) on stage. I was thrilled at the chance to finally fulfill my childhood dream, yet also anxious at the thought of performing before the audience. But Deb believed in me. “Look how far you’ve come,” she encouraged. “It’s time to share your gift with others.”

I shook my head and told her, “No, thanks.”

When I finally finished my performance, I faced the audience and bowed.

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.

Doubts clouded my mind as I into that new world, Parsons School of Design. But fate had a plan, introducing me to Kathleen, who would become my guiding light.

I remember feeling out of place on my first day at Parsons, questioning everything from my outfit to my abilities. As I walked in and scanned the classroom, my vision sharply stopped on one person. Wow. She looked cool. I plopped myself down next to her and introduced myself as Dorri, thrilled when she smiled and said, “Hi. I’m Kathleen.” That was all it took.

What a difference Kathleen made in my school life! Her confidence, discipline, and responsibility were worlds away from my shaky, wild, and lazy nature. We became inseparable, signing up for the same classes, and I was always trying to earn her approval.

One day the homework assignment was to create an exciting illustration based on a pair of shoes. Bursting with ideas, I pulled out my favorite pair of antique thrift shop “old-lady shoes” and poured my heart into the project. Proud of my work, I rushed to Kathleen’s apartment to show her my creation, holding up my paper with glowing confidence. But Kathleen’s reaction was unexpected, crushing my pride with a single question: “Is that the only drawing you did?”

“Well, yes,” I responded sheepishly, “Why?”

“Come on,” she said. “Let’s go to Washington Square Park and really do some drawings.” I was puzzled, but when she led, I willingly followed, with my pad tucked under my arm.

As we made our way to the park, Kathleen enthusiastically talked about form, content, and composition and stressed the significance of observing subjects closely. She described the shoes in my drawing as the kind worn by elderly women who frequent the park to feed pigeons. That moment, she taught me to look closely and recreate diligently.

Paragraph 1: At the park, Kathleen pointed to a bench with a napping old woman and said, “Here, draw her shoes repeatedly.”

Paragraph 2: The next day was the class feedback session.

That was a big competition. We all knew it. The entire school was filled with excitement and anticipation. It was the annual choir(合唱) competition, and we were determined to participate despite knowing that many of us were not the best singers.

As the class monitor, I felt responsible for calling in my classmates and convincing them to join the chorus. I knew it wouldn’t be easy; some of them were hesitant and gave me skeptical looks, while others ran away. But I wasn’t ready to give up.

With a persuasive tone and genuine enthusiasm, I spoke to my classmates, explaining why it was important for us to participate as a team. I told them that it wasn’t about being the best, but about coming together and enjoying the experience of singing as a group. Slowly, I started to see some students were interested and a few of them promised to give it a try.

Our rehearsals (排练) were intense, filled with laughter, and sometimes frustration. We tried our best to perfect our harmonies and cooperation, but deep down, we still held onto the belief that we would probably end up at the bottom of all-the choirs. In that moment of despair, a boy from our choir whispered, “Are we just asking for humiliation(羞辱)?” The words made our doubts and fears stronger.

But right before it was our turn to step onto the stage, Mrs. Wood, our music teacher, brought us together in a tight group. She looked into our eyes and said firmly, “We are not here to impress; we are here to express.” Her words made all the difference.

With an understanding of the true meaning of our performance, we stepped onto the stage. As the music started, we sang from our hearts. We didn’t worry about being perfect or winning the competition; we focused on expressing our love for music and the joy of singing together.

When the performance ended, our headmaster stepped onto the stage.

The competition results were announced later, and we were awarded a special medal for our team spirit.

8 . 阅读下面材料，根据其内容和所给段落开头语续写两段，使之构成一篇完整的短文。

Chip was not willing to go to school. The only hour of his day that was bearable was science class. He used to think of science as a bunch of boring words in a textbook, but Mr. O’Dell had changed all that.

It started when Mr. O’Dell announced how students could get a good grade in his class—not by memorizing a lot of facts but by thinking. The students stared at him, either wondering what he was talking about or else marveling (惊叹) at the reddish brown hair surrounding his shiny bald head...

Mr. O’Dell asked another question, “What common substance can take the form of a liquid, a solid, or a gas?”

Nobody answered. The class just sat there, waiting for Mr. O’Dell to explain what that had to do with anything. Then Chip got it. The first liquid he thought of was water, and then ice. Ice is a solid. And when water gets superhot, it turns to steam. He wasn’t sure if steam was a gas or not, but when nobody else spoke, Chip blurted out, “Water?”

After that Chip could tell that Mr. O’Dell liked him. Chip liked him too—at least most of the time.

The best part about science class was the field trips. Once when a student pointed out an ant hill, Mr. O’Dell put his nose down so close to watch that Chip expected an ant to climb right onto it and march up through the freckles(雀斑)to stare back at him through his gold-rimmed glasses. Another time, Mr. O’Dell had the whole class sit cross-legged in a circle to watch a chameleon (变色龙) change from brown to bright green. Anyone who wasn’t paying close attention missed the important moment when it shot its long tongue and brought a fly back into its mouth.

Mr. O’Dell had the students take detailed notes on each animal or insect they were observing. He added that the creatures ought to be right where they were, doing whatever they were doing.

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。

Paragraph 1:

The minute the lesson turned to science, Chip exploded with energy and enthusiasm.

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Paragraph 2:

Holding a chameleon, Chip rushed into the classroom, his eyes dancing with excitement.

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