One Monday morning, the class were excited about the rumor that the science room was on fire over the weekend. Mr. Johnson, my fifth grade teacher 26 it and explained that science class would be cancelled due to the 27 . He also warned us not to go near the room 28 it could be dangerous.

During the morning break, Kim and I 29 to check out the damage. A first hand observation would make us heroes at lunch. We safely 30 the science room. We stood on tiptoes(脚尖) looking hard through the door window， 31 to see what was like inside when suddenly a firm hold on our shoulders stopped us.

“Where do you belong? Certainly not here!”

I turned around to find a teacher staring 32 at us, shouting. In those frozen seconds millions of 33 flashed through my mind. My father would kill me for disobeying teachers. 34 than that, my mother might be so mad that she might not stop him. My spirits 35 even lower when I thought of how angry Mr. Johnson would be. Soon the arresting teacher led Kim and me back to the 36 , leaving us trembling before Mr. Johnson .

But to our 37 , there was no yelling and no anger from Mr. Johnson. 38 , he bent slowly to look me in the eye. I was met with a look of 39 rather than anger. He spoke softly and carefully as he explained why he was 40 in my decision to go where I might have got 41 . As I looked into the eyes of the man who could send me to unimagined consequences at home, tears 42 up in my eyes. The thought of disappointing Mr. Johnson 43 me while I felt a gentle touch of Mr. Johnson’s hand on my shoulder. I glanced up and he smiled. My 44 for Mr. Johnson grew greatly in the moment I discovered that he still liked me even after I’d disappointed him. I could see that he cared more about my 45 than the fact that I’d broken a rule. It was the first time I had felt the power of forgiveness.

26. A. heard　 　　　 　 　　　 B. believed　　　　　　 C. confirmed　　 　　 D. studied

27. A. fire　　　 　　　　　　　　　　 B. rumor　　　 C. focus　　　　　 D. loss

28. A. unless　　　　　　　　 　　　 B. because　　 　　　 C. though　　　　　　　　　　 D. once

29. A. pretended　　 　　　　　　 B. asked 　　　 　　 C. decided　　 　　　 　　　 D. hesitated

30. A. entered　　　 　　　 B. found 　　　 C. examined　 　　　　　　 D. reached　　

31. A. hanging　　　　　　　 B. trying　　　　 C. happening　　　　 D. waiting

32. A. angrily 　　　　　　　　　　 B. patiently　　 　　 C. silently　　　　　　 　 D. curiously

33. A. excuses　　　　　　　　　　 B. thoughts　　　　　 C. words　　　　　　　 D. feelings

34. A. Easier　　　　　　　　 　 B. Less　　　　　　　　 C. Later　　　　　　　　　　　 D. Worse

35. A. flew　　　　　　　　　　　　 B. sank　　　　　 　　　 C. changed　　　　　　　　　 D. moved

36. A. school　　　　 　　　 B. lab　　　　　　　　　 C. office 　　　　　　　　　　 D. classroom

37. A. surprise　　　　　　 　　　 B. delight　　　 C. regret　　　　　　　 　　　 D. sorrow

38. A. However　　 　　　　　　 B. Therefore　 　　　 C. Otherwise 　　　 D. Instead

39. A. concern　　　 　　　　　　 B. guilt　　　　　 　　　 C. comfort　　 　　　　　　 D. complaint

40. A. frightened　　　　　　　　 B. puzzled　　　　　　 C. discouraged　　　　　　 D. disappointed

41. A. hurt 　　　　　　　　 　　　 B. burnt 　　　 C. lost　　　　　　　　　　　　 D. blamed

42. A. flooded　　　　　　 　 B. rushed　　 　　 C. welled　　　 　　　 D. rounded

43. A. shocked　　　　　　　　　　 B. shamed　　　　　　 C. bored　　　　 　　　　　　 D. confused

44. A. care　　　　　　　　　　　　　 B. hope　　　　 　　　 C. desire 　　　　　　 　　 D. love

45. A. safety 　　　　　　　 B. freedom 　　　　　 C. dignity 　　　　　 　　　 D. behavior

My Way to Success

From the day I signed up for the Naumburg Competition, everything changed. I had made a decision to start again, to save my life, and that meant a 360-degree turnaround.
I kept on practicing. An enormous amount of work had to be done in two months. I went from not practicing at all to thirteen hours a day.
I spent two weeks just playing scales. If I thought I sounded bad before, now I sounded worse than awful.
At the time I lived on 72nd Street, close to West End Avenue. I had an apartment with a window the size of a shoebox. I didn't do mylaundry. I left my apartment only to walk to Juilliard─and not onBroadway like everyone else. I walked up Amsterdam Avenue because I didn't want to see anybody, didn't want to run into anybody, didn't want anyone to ask what I was doing.
I stopped going to classes and became a hermit. I even talked Miss DeLay into giving my lesson at night.
My eating habits were awful. I lived on fried sausages, a pint of peanut butter/chocolate ice cream, and a gallon of Coca-Cola every day. That's all I ate for eight weeks.
I was nuts. I was completely obsessed with getting back into shape, with doing well in this competition. If I could, people would know I was still on earth. Not to count me out; to stop asking, “Whatever happened to Nadja?”
The last week before the Naumburg auditions, I couldn't touch the violin. I had worked and worked and worked and worked and then I just couldn't work anymore.
I certainly could have used it. I wasn't as prepared as I should have been. But I simply had to say, “Nadja, you've dedicated yourself to this thing. Ready or not, do your best.”
Fifty violinists from around the world auditioned for the competition on May 25, 26, and 27, 1981. Those that made it past thepreliminaries would go on to the semifinals. Those that passed that stage would go to the finals. In years past, one violinist was chosen as winner and two received second and third place.
On May 26, the day of my audition, I went to the Merkin Concert Hall at 67th Street and Broadway. I waited, played for twenty minutes, and went home. I couldn't tell whether the preliminary judges were impressed or not. I'd find out the next evening.
Maybe subconsciously I was trying to keep busy; that night, when I fried the sausages, I accidentally set my apartment on fire. I grabbed my cat and my violin, and ran out the door. The fire was put out, but everything in my place was wrecked.
Fortunately, the phone was okay and on the evening of May 27, I had the news from Lucy Rowan Mann of Naumburg. Thirteen of us had made it.
Talk about mixed emotions. I was thrilled to be among the thirteen; a group that included established violinists, some of whom had already made records. But it also meant I had to play the next day in the semifinals of the competition.
Everyone entering the competition had been given two lists of concertos. One was a list of standard repertory pieces. The other list was twentieth-century repertory. For our big competition piece, we were to choose from each list and play a movement from one in the semifinals, and a movement from the other in the finals─if we made it that far.
From the standard repertory list, I chose the Tchaikovsky Concerto. I had been playing the Tchaik for three years, so it was a good piece for me.
From the twentieth-century list, I chose the Prokofiev G minor Concerto. I had never played it onstage before.
My goal had been just passing the auditions, but now my thought pattern began to change. If I wanted a sliver of a chance of advancing again, my brain said, “Play your strong piece first.”
Logically, I should play the Tchaikovsky in the semifinals just to make it to the next stage. Who cared if that left me with a piece I probably wouldn't play as well in the finals of the competition? It'd be a miracle to get that far.
There wouldn't be more than seven violinists chosen for the final round, and if I were in the top seven of an international group, that was plenty good enough.
The semifinals were held on May 28 in Merkin Concert Hall. You were to play for thirty minutes: your big piece first, then the judges would ask to hear another.
There was a panel of eight judges. They had a piece of paper with my choices of the Tchaikovsky and the Prokofiev in front of them. “Which would you like to play?” they asked.
I said meekly, “Prokofiev.”
My brain and all the logic in the world had said, “Play your strong piece.” My heart said, “Go for it all. Play your weak piece now, save Tchaikovsky for the finals.”
Maybe I don't listen to logic so easily after all.
My good friend, the pianist Sandra Rivers, had been chosen as accompanist for the competition. She knew I was nervous. There had been a very short time to prepare; I was sure there'd be memory slips, that I'd blank out in the middle and the judges would throw me out. My hands were like ice.
The first eight measures of the Prokofiev don't have accompaniment. The violin starts the piece alone. So I started playing.
I got through the first movement and Sandra said later my face was as white as snow. She said I was so tense, I was beyond shaking. Just a solid brick.
It was the best I'd ever played it. No memory slips at all. Technically, musically, it was there.
I finished it thinking, “Have I sold my soul for this? Is the devil going to visit me at midnight? How come it went so well?”
I didn't know why, but often I do my best under the worst of circumstances. I don't know if it's guts or a determination not to disappoint people. Who knows what it is, but it came through for me, and I thank God for that.
As the first movement ended, the judges said, “Thank you.” Then they asked for the Carmen Fantasy.
I turned and asked Sandy for an A, to retune, and later she said the blood was just rushing back into my face.
I whispered, “Sandy, I made it. I did it.”
“Yeah,” she whispered back, kiddingly, “too bad you didn't screw up. Maybe next time.”
At that point I didn't care if I did make the finals because I had played the Prokofiev so well. I was so proud of myself for coming through.
I needed a shot in the arm; that afternoon I got evicted. While I was at Merkin, my moped had blown up. For my landlord, that was the last straw.
What good news. I was completely broke and didn't have the next month's rent anyway. The landlord wanted me out that day. I said, “Please, can I have two days. I might get into the finals, can I please go through this first?”
I talked him into it, and got back to my place in time for the phone call. “Congratulations, Nadja,”“they said. “You have made the finals.”
I had achieved the ridiculously unlikely, and I had saved my best piece. Yet part of me was sorry. I wanted it to be over already. In the three days from the preliminaries to the semifinals, I lost eight pounds. I was so tired of the pressure.
There was a fellow who advanced to the finals with me, an old, good friend since Pre-College. Competition against friends is inevitable in music, but I never saw competition push a friendship out the window so quickly. By the day of the finals, I hated him and he hated me. Pressure was that intense.
The finals were held on May 29 at Carnegie Hall and open to the public. I was the fourth violinist of the morning, then there was a lunch break, and three more violinists in the afternoon.
I played my Tchaikovsky, Saint-Sa‘ns’s Havanaise, and Ravel's Tzigane for the judges: managers, famous violinists, teachers, and critics. I went on stage at five past eleven and finished at noon. Those fifty-five minutes seemed like three days.
I was so relieved when I finished playing; I was finished! It's impossible to say how happy I was to see the dressing room. I went out for lunch with my friends. It was like coming back from the grave. We laughed and joked and watched TV.
As I returned to Carnegie Hall to hear the other violinists, I realized I'd made a big mistake: they might ask for recalls. A recall is when they can't decide between two people and they want you to play again. It's been done; it's done all the time in competitions. No way was I in shape to go onstage and play again.
In the late afternoon, the competition was over. Everybody had finished playing. Quite luckily─no recalls.
The judges deliberated for an hour. The tension in the air was unbelievable. All the violinists were sitting with their little circle of friends. I had my few friends around me, but no one was saying much now.
Finally, the Naumburg Foundation president Robert Mann came on stage.
“It's always so difficult to choose ...” he began.
“Every year we hold this competition,” Robert Mann said. “And in the past, we've awarded three prizes. This year we've elected to only have one prize, the first prize.”
My heart sank. Nothing for me. Not even Miss Congeniality.
“We have found,” Mann went on, “that second place usually brings great dismay to the artist because they feel like a loser. We don't want anyone here to feel like a loser. Every finalist will receive five hundred dollars except the winner, who will receive three thousand dollars.”
And then he repeated how difficult it was to choose, how well everyone had played ...dah, dah, dah.
I was looking down at the floor.  
“The winner is ...”
And he said my name.
A friend next to me said, “Nadja, I think you won!”
I went numb. My friends pulled me up and pointed me toward the stage. It was a long walk because I had slipped into a seat in the back. Sitting up in front was my old friend. I would have to walk right past him and I was dreading it, but before I could, he got up and stopped me.
He threw his arms around me and I threw my arms around him. I kept telling him how sorry I was. I was holding him and started to cry, saying, “I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry.” I didn't want to lose, but I really didn't want him to lose either. And he was holding me and saying, “Don't be sorry. I'm so proud of you.” It was over, and we would be friends again.
I took my bow, then ran to Juilliard. Ten blocks uptown, one block west, to give Miss DeLay the news. She could be proud of me now, too.
Suddenly, everything was clear. Playing the violin is what I'd do with my life. Heaven handed me a prize: “You've been through a lot, kid. Here's an international competition.”
Everything had changed when I prepared for the Naumburg, and now everything changed again. I made my first recording. Between September 1981 and May 1982, I played a hundred concerts in America, made one trip to Europe, then two months of summer festivals. And people asked me back.
There was a great deal of anxiety playing in Europe for the first time. But I was able to rely on my self-confidence to pull me through.
Self-confidence onstage doesn't mean a lack of nerves backstage. The stakes had increased. This wasn't practice anymore, this was my life. I'd stare into a dressing-room mirror and say, “Nadja, people have bought tickets, hired baby-sitters, you've got to calm down; go out there and prove yourself.”
Every night I'd prove myself again. My life work had truly begun

1. 1.

   In a gesture to prepare for the competition, Nadja did all the following except _________

   1. A.
      preoccupying herself in practice
   2. B.
      trying to carry out her deeds secretly
   3. C.
      abandoning going to school for classes
   4. D.
      consuming the best food to get enough energy
2. 2.

   How many violinists does the passage mention advanced to the finals?

   1. A.
      Four
   2. B.
      Five
   3. C.
      Six
   4. D.
      Seven
3. 3.

   After Nadja finished playing at the finals, she went out for a while and when she came back to hear the other violinists she realized she had made a mistake because _________

   1. A.
      she forgot that there was going to be a recall
   2. B.
      she didn’t get hold of the permission to leave
   3. C.
      chances were that she had to replay and she was off guard
   4. D.
      there was another play she had to take part in in the afternoon

We always celebrated my Dad’s November birthday on Thanksgiving Day, even after he entered a nursing home. As years went on, these events took on a(n)   21   meaning – a traditional birthday party for Dad, and a personal   22   for all that he had done for me in my life.

When we knew that it might be Dad’s   23   birthday, the whole family decided to come together for a huge birthday celebration at the nursing home. It was a crowded party __24_all of us sitting around him. Dad was a wonderful   25   , and here was a biggest audience he’d ever had.

During a quiet moment, I announced that it was now Dad’s turn to   26   stories from us. I wanted everyone to tell Dad what we loved about him.   27  , we told stories from our hearts,   28   Dad listened with wet, flashing blue eyes. We   29   all kinds of lost memories – stories about when we were little, stories about when Dad was young and stories that are shared as family   30  . Even the littlest grandchildren couldn’t   31   to tell their grandfather why they loved him. For a man who had been kind to so many people in his life, here was our   32   to honor him.

A few months later, at Dad’s memorial service, we fully realized what we had given Dad that night. Those were the stories people normally tell at a   33  . They are told, then, full of tears, with the hope that the departed will somehow hear the outpouring of love._34_ we had given those loving   35   to Dad when he was   36  , told through laughter, accompanied by hugs and joy. I’m sure the stories and memories   37   over in his mind during his last months and days.

Words do    38  , and they are enough. We need to say them, to speak them   39   to the ones we love, for everyone else to hear. That’s the way to   40   love, and our chance to honor a person in life.

21. A. double        B. original     C. complex       D. modern

22. A. congratulation     B. thanking    C. wish          D. apology   

23. A. late       B. last       C. living   D. lost

24. A. by         B. as    C. though    D. with

25. A. writer       B. listener     C. storyteller      D. reader

26. A. listen to        B. hear of      C. make up      D. talk about

27. A. Little by little     B. Now and then  

C. All at once       D. One after another

28. A. while           B. because          C. if          D. before

29. A. regretted    B. recorded    C. recalled  D. remembered

30. A. thoughts    B. possessions   C. tales        D. treasures

31. A. afford      B. wait      C. offer          D. help

32. A. task       B. duty       C. chance       D. decision

33. A. burial     B. party      C. meeting      D. wedding

34. A. Or        B. And        C. So            D. But

35. A. kindness     B. memories     C. care         D. hugs

36. A. healthy      B. old       C. young       D. alive

37. A. rolled   B. went C. flied    D. came

38. A. benefit      B. work        C. matter           D. mean

39. A. properly     B. publicly     C. clearly      D. correctly

40.   A. give back       B. search for   C. hand over        D. fall in

I became a gardener when I was twelve. My early__26___of gardening may not have originate from my love for nature. It was to _27__my parents.

    At that time, we had a big yard in which a beautiful maple tree stood. But my mother often looked with __28___at this work of natural art. Those golden leaves seemed like tons of rubbish to her, “something else to __29__!”Seeing the neighbors busy with gardening, my father ever thought it a waste of time.

At that age, I always did something__30___whatever my parents did! If gardening were something they found__31__, I would plant a garden!

    I planted some lily seeds in the yard. But they failed to _32___.I continued to plant sunflower seeds and roses, Wild __33__joy,I found the first rose bloom. One by one, the flowers bloomed their heads off.__34___, I was touched by this land of wonder.

___35__, my parents showed no interest in my garden. My father even__36___at me because he found it was __37__to move around my garden to the driveway. To my mother’s __38__,I put her vase my real roses which, in her eyes, were simply weeds__39__flowers.

Regardless of their __40__, I kept on planting my garden and _41__to enjoy the pleasure gardening. Plants make such good companions: they breathe, they bloom, they___42__our care and love.

    It has been many years since I made my first garden out of my desire to __43___my parent .Today I become known as Mrs. Greenthumbs, teaching gardening and hosting a gardening show which makes my parents feel very__44_.And now I could say it is my affection for___45__that makes me a real gardener.

26. A. memory            B. dream             C. decision                D. design

27. A. please                   B. change                     C. help                    D. annoy

28. A. doubt              B. appreciation        C. surprise                 D. excitement

29. A. collect up                B. care about         C. clean up             D. come in

30. A. equal              B. similar             C. superior                D. against

31. A. hurt                     B. valuable            C. upsetting          D. interesting

32. A. come up            B. break out             C. hold on           D. get through

33. A. to                          B. with                 C. in                    D. by

34. A. Luckily                B. Cheerfully        C. Regularly          D. Eventually

35. A. Thus                  B. However           C. Therefore        D. Besides

36. A. should                      B. laughed           C. stared            D. jumped

37. A. simple                 B. troublesome        C. enjoyed          D. amazed

38. A. sadness                    B. displeasure              C. delight             D. relief

39. A. other than             B. more than             C. rather than           D. less than

40. A. dislike                   B. encouragement   C. attack                   D. suggestion

41. A. decided                        B. stopped                       C. continued                  D. struggled

42. A. devote                    B. award                    C. reward                  D. challenge

43. A. displease           B. satisfy                   C. love               D. lead

44. A. proud                     B. comfortable            C. strange                 D. disappointed

45. A. freedom                 B. life                         C. growth                   D. nature