A year after graduation, I was offered a position teaching a writing class. Teaching was a profession I had never seriously considered, though several of my stories had been published. I accepted the job without hesitation, as it would allow me to wear a tie and go by the name of Mr. Davis. My father went by the same name, and I liked to imagine people getting the two of us confused. “Wait a minute,” someone might say, “are talking about Mr. Davis the retired man, or Mr. Davis the respectable scholar?”
The position was offered at the last minute, and I was given two week to prepare, a period I spent searching for a briefcase and standing before my full-length mirror, repeating the words, “Hello, class, I’m Mr. Davis.” Sometimes I would give myself an aggressive voice. Sometimes I would sound experienced. But when the day eventually came, my nerves kicked in and the true Mr. Davis was there. I sounded not like a thoughtful professor, but rather a 12-year-old boy.
I arrived in the classroom with paper cards designed in the shape of maple leaves. I had cut them myself out of orange construction paper. I saw nine students along a long table. I handed out the cards, and the students wrote down their names and fastened them to their breast pockets as I required.
“All right then,” I said. “Okay, here we go.” Then I opened my briefcase and realized that I had never thought beyond this moment. I had been thinking that the students would be the first to talk, offering their thoughts and opinions on the events of the day. I had imagined that I would sit on the edge of the desk, overlooking a forest of raised hands. Every student would shout to be heard, and I would knock on something in order to silence them. I would yell, “Calm down, you’ll all get your turn. One at a time, one at a time!”
A terrible silence ruled the room, and seeing no other opinions, I instructed the students to pull out their notebooks and write a brief essay related to the theme of deep disappointment.
【小题1】The author took the job to teach writing because______________.

A year after graduation, I was offered a position teaching a writing class. Teaching was a profession I had never seriously considered, though several of my stories had been published. I accepted the job without hesitation, as it would allow me to wear a tie and go by the name of Mr. Davis. My father went by the same name, and I liked to imagine people getting the two of us confused. “Wait a minute,” someone might say, “are you talking about Mr. Davis the retired man, or Mr. Davis the respectable scholar?”
The position was offered at the last minute, and I was given two weeks to prepare, a period I spent searching for briefcase (公文包) and standing before my full-length mirror, repeating the words, “Hello, class. I’m Mr. Davis.” Sometimes I would give myself an aggressive voice. Sometimes I would sound experienced. But when the day eventually came, my nerves kicked in and the true Mr. Davis was there. I sounded not like a thoughtful professor, but rather a 12-year-old boy.
I arrived in the classroom with paper cards designed in the shape of maple leaves. I had cut them myself out of orange construction paper. I saw nine students along a long table. I handed out the cards, and the students wrote down their names and fastened them to their breast pockets as I required.
“All right then,” I said. “Okay, here we go.” Then I opened my briefcase and realized that I had never thought beyond this moment. I had been thinking that the students would be the first to talk, offering their thoughts and opinions on the events of the day. I had imagined that I would sit at the edge of the desk, overlooking a forests of hands. Every student would yell. “Calm down, you’ll all get your turn. One at a time, one at a time!”
A terrible silence ruled the room, and seeing no other opinions, I inspected the students to pull out their notebooks and write a brief essay related to the theme of deep disappointment.
【小题1】The author took the job to teach writing because ______.

A year after graduation, I was offered a position teaching a writing class. Teaching was a profession I had never seriously considered, though several of my stories had been published. I accepted the job without hesitation, as it would allow me to wear a tie and go by the name of Mr. Davis. My father went by the same name, and I liked to imagine people getting the two of us confused. “Wait a minute,” someone might say, “are you talking about Mr. Davis the retired man, or Mr. Davis the respectable scholar?”

   The position was offered at the last minute, and I was given two weeks to prepare, a period I spent searching for briefcase (公文包) and standing before my full-length mirror, repeating the words, “Hello, class. I’m Mr. Davis.” Sometimes I would give myself an aggressive voice. Sometimes I would sound experienced. But when the day eventually came, my nerves kicked in and the true Mr. Davis was there. I sounded not like a thoughtful professor, but rather a 12-year-old boy.

   I arrived in the classroom with paper cards designed in the shape of maple leaves. I had cut them myself out of orange construction paper. I saw nine students along a long table. I handed out the cards, and the students wrote down their names and fastened them to their breast pockets as I required.

   “All right then,” I said. “Okay, here we go.” Then I opened my briefcase and realized that I had never thought beyond this moment. I had been thinking that the students would be the first to talk, offering their thoughts and opinions on the events of the day. I had imagined that I would sit at the edge of the desk, overlooking a forests of hands. Every student would yell. “Calm down, you’ll all get your turn. One at a time, one at a time!”

   A terrible silence ruled the room, and seeing no other opinions, I inspected the students to pull out their notebooks and write a brief essay related to the theme of deep disappointment.

1.The author took the job to teach writing because ______.

   A. he wanted to be expected

   B. he had written some storied

   C. he wanted to please his father

   D. he had dreamed of being a teacher

2.What can we learn about the author from Paragraph 2 ?

   A. He would be aggressive in his first class.

   B. He was well-prepared for his first class.

   C. He got nervous upon the arrival of his first class.

   D. He waited long for the arrival of his first class.

3.Before he started his class, the author asked the students to ______.

   A. write down their suggestions on the paper cards

   B. cut maple leaves out of the construction paper

   C. cut some cards out of the construction paper

   D. write down their names on the paper cards

4.What did the students do when the author started his class?

   A. They began to talk.        B. They stayed silent.

   C. They raised their hands.     D. They shouted to be heard.

5.The author chose the composition topic probably because ______.

   A. he got disappointed with his first class

   B. he had prepared the topic before class

   C. he wanted to calm down the students

   D. he thought it was an easy topic

B

   I had never seen sand dunes（沙丘）before. If you go to the seaside in Britain, you may see some small hills of sand, but nothing very impressive. Of course, Africa is home to many beautiful “sandscapes”, but I was in China, so I went to Dunhuang.

   I had spent my first day looking at the beautiful Mogao caves. Now I wanted to experience something very different.

   I have been walking in Asia, Europe and America, but nothing prepared me for walking over hills of sand. Whenever I took a step up a hill, my feet would sink into the sand and move backwards. Sometimes it seemed as if I were moving in the wrong direction.

   I wanted to see the sunset so I had to climb to the top of the highest sand dune. The sun was beating down upon my back as I walked slowly over the sand. Some plants had managed to survive in the dry ground but not many.

   As I climbed higher, the hills of sand became steeper and my feet started to slip further backwards. I ended up with my hands and knees, crawling (爬行)upwards through the top. I just let go if I would fall the way down. But I refused to give up: inch by inch, I made my way to the top of the sand dune.

   When I got there I was amazed by what I saw. The sand formed a very sharp point, just like a knife-edge. One side of the dune was bathed in sunshine, the other covered by shade. As I looked into the distance, the same pattern was repeated on all of the hilltops, and the difference between dark and light was beautiful.

   As the sun began to sink, the shadows grew longer and the light became warm and orange. The wind had come to life and sand was blown against my legs as I walked along the dunes. Soon it was getting dark and I could only just make out the line of footprints that marked my journey to the top of the hill. I slowly made my way down to the bottom, my path lit by the dying sun.

65 The author probably went to climb the sand dunes __________ after he arrived at Dunhuang.

  A. on the afternoon of the first day       B. on the afternoon of the second day

  C. on the evening of the second day      D. on the evening of the first day

66. Which of the following statements is NOT true?

  A. Africa has many beautiful sand dunes.

  B. The author could see nothing but his own footprints on his way back.

  C. The author had seen some kinds of sand dunes before he visited Dunhuang

  D. What attracted the author most was that the sand formed a very sharp point.

67. The author got to the top of the highest hill of sand _____________.

  A. on his hands and knees all the way

  B. with falls to the bottom many times

  C. on his hands and knees in the last leg (一段旅程)

D. with a few rests all the way                

68. The author mainly wants to tell readers about_____________.

  A. the beautiful sunset         B. his experience of climbing the sand hills

  C. the joy of traveling in nature  D. the difficulty of climbing the sand dunes

A year after graduation, I was offered a position teaching a writing class. Teaching was a profession I had never seriously considered, though several of my stories had been published. I accepted the job without hesitation, as it would allow me to wear a tie and go by the name of Mr. Davis. My father went by the same name, and I liked to imagine people getting the two of us confused. “Wait a minute,” someone might say, “are talking about Mr. Davis the retired man, or Mr. Davis the respectable scholar?”

The position was offered at the last minute, and I was given two week to prepare, a period I spent searching for a briefcase and standing before my full-length mirror, repeating the words, “Hello, class, I’m Mr. Davis.” Sometimes I would give myself an aggressive voice. Sometimes I would sound experienced. But when the day eventually came, my nerves kicked in and the true Mr. Davis was there. I sounded not like a thoughtful professor, but rather a 12-year-old boy.

I arrived in the classroom with paper cards designed in the shape of maple leaves. I had cut them myself out of orange construction paper. I saw nine students along a long table. I handed out the cards, and the students wrote down their names and fastened them to their breast pockets as I required.

“All right then,” I said. “Okay, here we go.” Then I opened my briefcase and realized that I had never thought beyond this moment. I had been thinking that the students would be the first to talk, offering their thoughts and opinions on the events of the day. I had imagined that I would sit on the edge of the desk, overlooking a forest of raised hands. Every student would shout to be heard, and I would knock on something in order to silence them. I would yell, “Calm down, you’ll all get your turn. One at a time, one at a time!”

A terrible silence ruled the room, and seeing no other opinions, I instructed the students to pull out their notebooks and write a brief essay related to the theme of deep disappointment.

1.The author took the job to teach writing because______________.

2.What can we learn about the author from Paragraph 2?

3.Before he started his class, the author asked the students to_______.

4. What did the students do when the author started his class?

5.The author chose the composition topic probably because________.