My grandson, Daniel, and I have always been very close. When Daniel’s father remarried after a divorce, Daniel, who was eleven, and his little sister, Kristie, came to live with us. My husband and I were more than happy to have kids in the house again.

    Things were going along just fine until the diabetes (糖尿病) I’ve lived with most of my adult life started affecting my eyes, and then more seriously, my kidneys (肾). Then everything seemed to fall apart.

    Three times a week, I had to go to the hospital to be hooked up to a dialysis machine (透析机). I was living, but I couldn’t really call it a life — it was an existence. I had no energy. I dragged myself through daily chores and slept as much as I could. My sense of humor seemed to disappear.

    Daniel, seventeen by then, was really affected by the change in me. He tried as hard as he could to make me laugh, to bring back the grandma who loved to clown around (开玩笑) with him. Even in my sorry state, Daniel could still bring a smile to my face.

    But things were not improving. After a year on dialysis, my condition was deteriorating (恶化) and the doctors felt that if I didn’t receive a kidney transplant within six months, I would surely die. No one told Daniel this, but he knew — he said all he had to do was look after me. To top it off, as my condition worsened, there was a chance that I would become too weak to have the transplant surgery at all, and then there would be nothing they could do for me. So we started the tense and desperate wait for a kidney.

    I was adamant (坚决的) that I didn’t want a kidney from anyone I knew. I would wait until an appropriate kidney became available, or I would literally die waiting. But Daniel had other plans. The time that he took me to my dialysis appointments, he did a little secret research on his own. Then he announced his intention to me.

    “Grandma, I’m giving you one of my kidneys. I’m young and I’m healthy …” He paused. He could see I wasn’t at all happy with his offer. He continued, almost in whisper, “And most of all, I couldn’t stand it if you weren’t around.” His face wore an expression of appeal mixed with determination. He can be as stubborn as a mule (驴) once he decides on something — but I’ve been told many times that I can out-stubborn any mule!

    We argued. I couldn’t let him do it. We both knew that if he gave up his kidney, he would also give up his life’s dream; to play football. It was all he ever talked about. And he was good, too. Daniel was co-captain and star defensive tackle (防守阻截队员) of his high school team; he expected to apply for a football scholarship and was looking forward to playing college football. He just loved the sport.

    “How can I let you throw away the thing that means the most to you?” I pleaded with him.

    “Grandma,” he said softly, “compared to your life, football means nothing to me.”

    After that, I couldn’t argue anymore. So we agreed to see if he was a good donor (捐赠者) match, and then we’d discuss it further. When the tests came back, they showed Daniel was a perfect match. That was it. I knew I wasn’t going to win that argument, so we scheduled the transplant.

    Both surgeries went smoothly. As soon as I came out of the anesthesia (麻醉) , I could tell things were different. I felt great! The nurses in the intensive care unit had to keep telling me to lie back and be quiet — I wasn’t supposed to be that lively! I was afraid to go to sleep, for fear I would break the spell (魔法) and wake up the way I had been before. But the good feeling didn’t go away, and I spent the evening joking and laughing with anyone who would listen. It was so wonderful to feel alive again.

    The next day they moved me out of ICU and onto the floor where Daniel was recuperating (复原) three doors away. His grandfather helped him walk down to see me as soon as I was moved into my room. When we saw each other, we did not know what to say. Holding hands, we just sat there and looked at each other for a long time, overwhelmed by the deep feeling of love that connected us.

    Finally, he spoke, “Was it worthwhile, grandma?”

    I laughed a little ruefully (懊悔). “It was for me! But was it for you?” I asked him.

    He nodded and smiled at me. “I’ve got my grandma back.”

    And I have my life back. It still amazes me. Every morning, when I wake up, I thank God —and Daniel — for this miracle. A miracle born of the purest love.

1.Grandma’s diabetes brought about all the following EXCEPT that _______.

A. her eyes and her kidneys were affected

B. grandma became quite a different person

C. Daniel had to be sent back to his father

D. everything was thrown into confusion

2.When grandma was at her lowest, what did Daniel do to bring her back to her usual life?

A. He tried his best to make her laugh.     

B. He helped her with the daily chores.

C. He gave up his dream of going to college.     

D. He searched desperately for a good donor match.

3.How did grandma feel when Daniel announced his intention to give her one of his kidneys?

A. She was moved by his selfless decision.

B. She wasn’t at all happy with his offer.

C. She felt relieved that an appropriate kidney was available.

D. She was enthusiastic about having a kidney of someone she loved.

4.What would giving up a kidney mean to Daniel, according to the passage?

A. He wouldn’t be young and healthy thereafter.

B. He didn’t have to search for a good match any more.

C. He could apply for a full scholarship to a college he desired.

D. He would also give up his life’s dream: to play football.

5.How was grandma when she came out of the anesthesia after the surgery?

A. She was feeling low.                B. She was full of life.

C. She was exhausted.                D. She was the way she had been before.

6.Which of the following statements is NOT true according to the passage?

A. Grandma got her life back thanks to Daniel’s selfless donation.

B. Grandma thought her returning to life was a miracle of pure love.

C. Daniel agreed with grandma that the transplant was worthwhile for her, not for him.

D. Much as he loved football, grandma’s life meant the most to Daniel.

In 1974, after filling out fifty applications, going through four interviews, and winning one offer, I took what I could get ----- a teaching job at what I considered a distant wild area: western New Jersey. My characteristic optimism was alive only when I reminded myself that I would be doing what I had wanted to do since I was fourteen ------- teaching English.
School started, but I felt more and more as if I were in a foreign country. Was this rural area really New Jersey? My students took a week off when hunting season began. I was told they were also frequently absent in late October to help their fathers make hay on the farms. I was a young woman from New York City, who thought that “Make hay while the sun shines” just meant to have a good time.
But, still, I was teaching English. I worked hard, taking time off only to eat and sleep. And then there was my sixth-grade class ---- seventeen boys and five girls who were only six years younger than me. I had a problem long before I knew it. I was struggling in my work as a young idealistic teacher. I wanted to make literature come alive and to promote a love of the written word. The students wanted to throw spitballs and whisper dirty words in the back of the room.
In college I had been taught that a successful educator should ignore bad behavior. So I did, confident that, as the textbook had said, the bad behavior would disappear as I gave my students positive attention. It sounds reasonable, but the text evidently ignored the fact that humans, particularly teenagers, rarely seems reasonable. By the time my boss, who was also my taskmaster, known to be the strictest, most demanding, most quick to fire inexperienced teachers, came into the classroom to observe me, the students exhibited very little good behavior to praise.
My boss sat in the back of the room. The boys in the class were making animal noises, hitting each other while the girls filed their nails or read magazines. I just pretended it all wasn’t happening, and went on lecturing and tried to ask some inspiring questions. My boss, sitting in the back of the classroom, seemed to be growing bigger and bigger. After twenty minutes he left, silently. Visions of unemployment marched before my eyes.
I felt mildly victorious that I got through the rest of class without crying, but at my next free period I had to face him. I wondered if he would let me finish out the day. I walked to his office, took a deep breath, and opened the door.
He was sitting in his chair, and he looked at me long and hard. I said nothing. All I could think of was that I was not an English teacher; I had been lying to myself, pretending that everything was fine.
When he spoke, he said simply, without accusation, “You had nothing to say to them.”
“You had nothing to say to them”. he repeated.” No wonder they are bored. Why not get to the meat of literature and stop talking about symbolism. Talk with them, not at them. And more important, why do you ignore their bad behavior”? We talked. He named my problems and offered solutions. We role-played. He was the bad student, and I was the forceful, yet, warm, teacher
As the year progressed, we spent many hours discussing literature and ideas about human beings and their motivations. He helped me identify my weaknesses and strengths. In short, he made a teacher of me by teaching me the reality of Emerson’s words: “The secret to education lies in respecting the pupil.”
Fifteen years later I still drive that same winding road to the same school. Thanks to the help I received that difficult first year, the school is my home now.
【小题1】 It can be inferred from the story that in 1974 ________________.

In 1974, after filling out fifty applications, going through four interviews, and winning one offer, I took what I could get ----- a teaching job at what I considered a distant wild area: western New Jersey. My characteristic optimism was alive only when I reminded myself that I would be doing what I had wanted to do since I was fourteen ------- teaching English.

School started, but I felt more and more as if I were in a foreign country. Was this rural area really New Jersey? My students took a week off when hunting season began. I was told they were also frequently absent in late October to help their fathers make hay on the farms. I was a young woman from New York City, who thought that “Make hay while the sun shines” just meant to have a good time.

But, still, I was teaching English. I worked hard, taking time off only to eat and sleep. And then there was my sixth-grade class ---- seventeen boys and five girls who were only six years younger than me. I had a problem long before I knew it. I was struggling in my work as a young idealistic teacher. I wanted to make literature come alive and to promote a love of the written word. The students wanted to throw spitballs and whisper dirty words in the back of the room.

In college I had been taught that a successful educator should ignore bad behavior. So I did, confident that, as the textbook had said, the bad behavior would disappear as I gave my students positive attention. It sounds reasonable, but the text evidently ignored the fact that humans, particularly teenagers, rarely seems reasonable. By the time my boss, who was also my taskmaster, known to be the strictest, most demanding, most quick to fire inexperienced teachers, came into the classroom to observe me, the students exhibited very little good behavior to praise.

My boss sat in the back of the room. The boys in the class were making animal noises, hitting each other while the girls filed their nails or read magazines. I just pretended it all wasn’t happening, and went on lecturing and tried to ask some inspiring questions. My boss, sitting in the back of the classroom, seemed to be growing bigger and bigger. After twenty minutes he left, silently. Visions of unemployment marched before my eyes.

I felt mildly victorious that I got through the rest of class without crying, but at my next free period I had to face him. I wondered if he would let me finish out the day. I walked to his office, took a deep breath, and opened the door.

He was sitting in his chair, and he looked at me long and hard. I said nothing. All I could think of was that I was not an English teacher; I had been lying to myself, pretending that everything was fine.

When he spoke, he said simply, without accusation, “You had nothing to say to them.”

“You had nothing to say to them”. he repeated.” No wonder they are bored. Why not get to the meat of literature and stop talking about symbolism. Talk with them, not at them. And more important, why do you ignore their bad behavior”? We talked. He named my problems and offered solutions. We role-played. He was the bad student, and I was the forceful, yet, warm, teacher

As the year progressed, we spent many hours discussing literature and ideas about human beings and their motivations. He helped me identify my weaknesses and strengths. In short, he made a teacher of me by teaching me the reality of Emerson’s words: “The secret to education lies in respecting the pupil.”

Fifteen years later I still drive that same winding road to the same school. Thanks to the help I received that difficult first year, the school is my home now.

1. It can be inferred from the story that in 1974 ________________.

A．the writer became an optimistic person

B．the writer was very happy about her new job

C．it was rather difficult to get a job in the USA

D．it was easy to get a teaching job in New Jersey

2.According to the passage, which of the following is most probably the writer’s problem as a new teacher?

A．She had blind trust in what she learnt at college.

B．She didn’t ask experienced teachers for advice.

C．She took too much time off to eat and sleep.

D．She didn’t like teaching English literature.

3.What is the writer’s biggest worry after her taskmaster’s observation of her class?

A．She might lose her teaching job.

B．She might lose her students’ respect.

C．She couldn’t teach the same class any more.

D．She couldn’t ignore her students’ bad behavior any more.

4.Which of the following gives the writer a sense of mild victory?

A．Her talk about symbolism sounded convincing.

B．Her students behaved a little better than usual.

C．She managed to finish the class without crying.

D．She was invited for a talk by her boss after class.

5.The students behaved badly in the writer’s classes because

A．They were eager to embarrass her.

B．She didn’t really understand them.

C．They didn’t regard her as a good teacher.

D．She didn’t have a good command of English.

6.The taskmaster’s attitude towards the writer after his observation of her class can be described as________________.

A．cruel but encouraging                    B．fierce but forgiving

C．sincere and supportive                   D．angry and aggressive

In 1974, after filling out fifty applications, going through four interviews, and winning one offer, I look what I could get — a teaching job at what I considered a distant wild area: western New Jersey. My characteristic optimism was alive only when I reminded myself that I would be doing what I had wanted to do since I was fourteen 一 teaching English.

School started, but I felt more and more as if I were in a foreign country. Waa this rural area really New Jersey? My students a week off when hunting season began. I was told they were also frequently absent in late October to help their fathers make hay on the farms. I was a young woman from New York City, who thought that “Make hay while the sun shines” just meant to have a good time.

But, still, I was teaching English. I worked hard, taking lime off only to eat and sleep. And then there was my sixth-grade class 一 seventeen boys and five girls who were only six yean younger than me. I had a problem long before I knew it. I was struggling in my work as a young idealistic teacher. I wanted to make literature come alive and lo promote a love of the written word. The students wanted to throw spitballs and whisper dirty words in the back of the room.

In college I had been taught that a successful educator should ignore bad behavior. So I did, confident that, as the textbook had said, the bad behavior would disappear as I gave ray students positive attention. It sounds reasonable, but the text evidently ignored the fact that humans, particularly teenagers, rarely seem reasonable. By the time ray boss, who was also ray taskmaster known to be the strictest, most demanding, most quick to fire inexperienced teachers, came into the classroom to observe me, the students exhibited very little good behavior to praise.

My boss sat in the back of the room. The boys in the class were making animal noises, hitting each other while the girls filed their nails or read magazines. I just pretended it all wasn’t happening, and went on lecturing and tried to ask some inspiring questions. My boss, sitting in the back of the room, seemed to be growing bigger and bigger. After twenty minutes he left, silently. Visions of unemployment marched before my eyes.

I felt mildly victorious that I got through the rest of class without crying, but at my next free period I had to face him. I wondered if he would let me finish out the day. I walked to his office, took a deep breath, and opened the door.

He was sitting in his chair, and he looked at me long and hard. I said nothing. All I could think of was that I was not an English teacher; I had been lying to myself, pretending that everything was fine.

When he spoke, he said simply, without accusation, “You had nothing to say to them.”

“You had nothing to say to them," he repeated. “No wonder they’re bored. Why not get to the meal of the literature and stop talking about symbolism. Talk with them, not at them. And more important, why do you ignore their bad behavior?” We talked. He named ray problems and offered solutions. We role-played. He was the bad student, and I was the forceful, yet, warm, teacher.

As the year progressed, we spent many hours discussing literature and ideas about human beings and their motivations. He helped me identify my weaknesses and my strengths. In short, he made a teacher of me by teaching me the reality of Emerson's words: “The secret to education lies in respecting the pupil.”

Fifteen years later I still drive that same winding road to the same school. Thanks to the help I received that difficult first year, the school is my home now.

55. It can be inferred from the story that in 1974 ______.

A. the writer became an optimistic person

B. the writer was very happy about her new job

C. it was rather difficult to get a job in the USA

D. it was easy to get a teaching job in New Jersey

56. According to the passage, which of the following is most probably the writer’s problem as a new teacher?

A. She had blind trust in what she learnt at college.

B. She didn’t ask experienced teachers for advice.

C. She took too much time off to eat and sleep.

D. She didn’t like teaching English literature.

57. What is the writer’s biggest worry after her taskmaster's observation of her class?

A. She might lose her teaching job.

B. She might lose her students’ respect.

C. She couldn’t teach the same class any more.

D. She couldn’t ignore her students’ bad behavior any more.

58. Which of the following gives the writer a sense of mild victory?

A. Her talk about symbolism sounded convincing.

B. Her students behaved a little better than usual.

C. She managed to finish the class without crying.

D. She was invited for a talk by her boss after class.

59. The students behaved badly in the writer's classes because ______.

A. they were eager to embarrass her

B. she didn't really understand them

C. they didn't regard her as a good teacher

D. she didn’t have a good command of English

60. The taskmaster’s attitude towards the writer after his observation of her class can be best described as ______.

A. cruel but encouraging                        B. fierce but forgiving

C. sincere and supportive                       D. angry and aggressive