备考2021年高考英语一轮复习33：夹叙夹议类阅读理解

阅读理解

    Like many other students beginning graduate school, I was quickly charged with responsibilities and had to find time for studying by letting goof many other things I valued. Letting go of football and the violin was, however, self-defeating: it might have brought me more time in the short term, but spending that extra time on work only' made me more stressed and less productive.

    Towards the end of the MSC (Master of Science program) started to lose my motivation and curiosity for science and research, as well as my creativity. Spending so much time and energy in the laboratory, and focusing all my attention on my thesis and courses, made me feel down and almost totally uninterested in my field - not to mention short-tempered and oversensitive in my personal communications.

    Over time, I learnt from these experiences. When I started my PhD, I focused on balancing academic success with personal time-off, and made personal happiness a priority (首要事情) in my weekly schedule. My mentor (导师) and I discussed my work-life balance early in my program, and we arrange our lab responsibilities accordingly.

    I set boundaries for myself in new ways: 'rather than doing lab work all weekend, I'd play football or the violin, or visit loved ones, before allowing myself to work fora few hours.

    This was hard at first: I worried that it would affect my standing with my peers, and superiors, but I had learnt from experiences that an overloaded schedule can drain (使疲劳) you so much that you become unfocused and start making mistakes or forgetting important details.

    Since establishing a better work-life balance, I've been doing well in graduate school. Outside the lab, I've been able to take up a few leadership positions at my university because I'm not as stressed with my work. I serve as our department's student councilor and I am also vice-president academic in the Health Sciences Graduate Students' Association. My advice is this: a healthy work-life balance isn't a luxury; it's a key part of success in graduate programs.

阅读理解

    Not long ago, my wife and I spent a weekend together without any of our three children. This was the first time we had been alone for more than a few hours since our oldest was born four years ago.

    What did we do on our short vacation? My wife read the first hundred or so pages of Tom Jones, a book she has been meaning to read for ages. There was takeout and a nice long walk along the shore of Lake Michigan. Football was watched. But mostly? We slept, without worrying for once about whether a shrill voice might awaken us between the hours of 9 p.m. and 6 a.m. to demand a glass of water ("No，not that one，the Tinkerbell cup!''). We were too relaxed to do anything else.

    As parents, we might tell other people that given the chance for even a short child-free break we would love to do some reading or take in a concert. This is not true. The truth is that what most of us really want is a chance not to think about how well we are using our time.

    By admitting this，I realize the myth (错误的看法) of the brain-dead parents. Being brain-dead is what a parent like me looks forward to rather than something to be accused of. The novelist Lucy Ellmann recently provided a convenient summary in an interview：

    You watch people get pregnant and know they'll be emotionally and intellectually absent for 20 years. Thought, knowledge, adult conversation, and vital political action are allput on hold. With a kiddo, you become a human koala while your old friends continue to have "interests". They do art and literature and science, you see, not diapers (尿不湿）.

    When you become responsible for the life of a very small person, nothing is more important than shouldering that responsibility. In that sense, parenting is a chance to reconsider the value of an extra 20 minutes in bed or a short phone conversation with an old friend. As to my wife and me, we spent the weekend eating steamed dumplings and drinking wine until we fell asleep.

We value the all-too-rare experience of being brain-dead.

阅读理解

    I am a parent of a disabled teenager. My son is in and out of hospital and school. His learning disabilities and behaviour issues are a barrier for him, and he is teased on campus. At home, he swears and punches me.

    He is on a waiting list for his disorder which contributes to his anxiety. Meanwhile, there are hospital appointments to manage, at least four consultants on the go, and an imminent transfer to adult services. The bureaucracy of caring keeps me busy.

    I used to work in the theatre industry but had to quit when my son kept getting excluded from school. I never expected that my life would turn out like this. But now, amazingly, I am doing a PhD at a Russell Group university，looking at non­white protagonists in historical drama. It is fascinating: under­represented characters! Hidden histories! Diversity!

    I am starting to win awards for my research and I feel like a success story. Almost. There's just one problem: I can't get funding. I keep missing out on studentships and scholarships. These awards—which are mainly funded by research councils or universities directly—are worth about ￡14，000－￡16，000 a year and usually include a fee waiver (saving a further ￡5，000). That's a lot of money.

But the funding tends to go to students half my age with straightA academic results—not to people like me, who have taken an unusual path to academia. When I was turned down for the last studentship I applied for, I asked why. The decision maker—a professor in my department and the head of a research institute—told me "it all comes down to excellent academic results"．

    They don't say this on the application forms: it's all about the originality of your project, your research statement, your supervisor's supporting statement, the panel that considers you, the level of competition. But when it comes down to it, this is clearly what they want. Someone with my background is never going to get a studentship if the decisive criteria are undergraduate and master's results.

    When I started my PhD and realised that I would need financial help, I went to the student advice office and told them that I am a carer. They asked what that meant and then offered me advice on benefits, but not funding. I went to the student union advice service—they referred me back to student advice. I went to the graduate school. Same response. I spoke to a vice dean and a chaplain. I had to tell them what a carer is. You get the picture. I was invisible. So I gave up, decided to apply annually for the studentships and kept my part­time job.

    UCAS announced this year that young carers will now be able to identify themselves in their applications, so that universities will be able to support them. But how is this going to happen if staff at these institutions don't even know what a carer is?

    The student welfare vice­president at the union has finally agreed with me that carers are an under­supported and under­represented group on campus. We are going to ask student records to add an option to the equality and diversity monitoring section, so that we can identify as carers and hopefully raise awareness. Wish us luck.

阅读理解

    I entered a cabinetmaking(家具制造)program. I didn't think I would be good at making furniture. I'm not handy. Nobody in my family is.

    I had great teachers, but making furniture is hard. There are so many steps and something can go wrong at each one. I couldn't even get organized. My toolbox always looked as if a hurricane had gone through it.

    I didn't fully know what I was committed to in the beginning, but I kept attending class. I tried to be wrapped up in math. The projects forced me to solve new kinds of problems. My brain started to build new connections. Working in this new physical manner and giving it 100 percent of my effort had huge benefits for my mental health. I got over my fear of embarrassment and asked for help at every opportunity.

    I spent that year truly learning. True learning is the most challenging experience, especially for those of us who are learning a new set of skills. I could understand exactly what was wrong with the furniture I made, but I couldn't fix those problems. And yet, I kept trying. I failed again and again, until I learned to fail better.

    In the end, I finished the program—with honors, no less! My grades were helped by my good written work. I also learned how to use tools. Having to constantly push myself to step outside my comfort zone has made me a more well-rounded person.

    Maybe most importantly, the school gave me a more realistic idea of my strengths and limitations. I'm stronger than I thought!

阅读理解

    Growing up, I thought math class was something to be endured, not enjoyed. I disliked memorizing formulas(公式) and taking tests, all for the dull goal of getting a good grade. One of my teachers told my mother that I was “slow”. But my problem wasn't with math itself. In fact, when a topic seemed particularly interesting, I would go to the library and read more about it.

    By high school, no one told me that I could become a professional mathematician. What I wanted to do then was to play college football. My ambition was to get an athletic scholarship to attend a Big Ten school.

    The chances of that happening were very low. But that didn't stop my coaches from encouraging me to believe I could reach my goal, and preparing and pushing me to work for it. They made video tapes of my performances and sent them to college coaches around the country. In the end, a Big Ten school, Penn State, did offer me a scholarship.

    I wish math teachers were more like football coaches. Students are affected by more than just the quality of a lesson plan. They also respond to the passion of their teachers and the engagement of their peers, and they seek a sense of purpose. They benefit from specific instructions and constant feedback(反馈).

    Until I got to college, I didn't really know what mathematics was. I still thought of it as laborious(耗时费力的) calculations. Then my professor handed me a book and suggested that I think about a particular problem. It wasn't easy, but it was fascinating. My professor kept giving me problems, and I kept pursuing them, even though I couldn't always solve them immediately. The mathematical research I was doing had little in common with what I did in my high school classrooms. Instead, it was closer to the math and logic puzzles I did on my own as a boy. It gave me that same sense of wonder and curiosity, and it rewarded creativity. I am now a Ph. D candidate in mathematics at the Massachusetts Institute of Technology.

阅读理解

    In 1985, the BMX bike craze was at its height. Every kid in our community was doing tricks on their BMX Raleigh Burner. Every kid apart from two: me and Martin Ogley. Martin was the owner of a purple Raleigh Chopper, and to be seen riding it in 1985 was embarrassing. The kids would knock into Martin mercilessly at every opportunity. And although I didn't own any kind of bike, I would join in. I knew that by keeping the focus on Martin, I was less likely to be a target.

    When other kids asked where my bike was  I would say my BMX was so top-of-the-range that I didn't ride it on the street. While I knew it would not hold up forever, I wasn't too worried. The New Year was coming and, after months of complaining to my dad, I was confident that a BMX would appear.

    On the New Year, I was disappointed to see Martin playing at the end of our street on what was clearly a brand-new BMX. As we entered the house, my eyes were drawn to where my presents were piled up. There was a bike. A purple Raleigh Chopper. You see, in the week before the New Year, my dad just happened to be drinking in the local working men's club with Martin's dad, who was eager to sell an old bike after buying his son a new one.

    It wasn't until I was in my 30s that we were in that same working men's club and I reminded my dad of that year, the year of Martin Ogley's Chopper. I thought he wouldn't remember the whole thing, but he did. And so I asked him the question: How the hell did I end up with Martin Ogle's Chopper? And my dad smiled and said as though it were the most obvious thing in the world, “Well, because you were mean to Martin.”

阅读理解

    My day began on a definitely sour note when I saw my six-year-old wrestling with a limb of my azalea(杜鹃花)bush. By the time I got outside, he'd broken it. "Can I take this to school today?" he asked. With a wave of my hand, I sent him off. I turned my back so he wouldn't see the tears gathering in my eyes.

    The washing machine had leaked on my brand-new linoleum. If only my husband had just taken the time to fix it the night before when I asked him instead of playing checkers with Jonathan.

    It was days like this that made me want to quit. I just wanted to drive up to the mountains, hide in a cave, and never come out.

    Somehow I spent most of the day washing and drying clothes and thinking how love had disappeared from my life. As I finished hanging up the last of my husband's shirts, I looked at the clock. 2: 30. I was late. Jonathan's class let out at 2: 15 and I hurriedly drove to the school.

    I was out of breath by the time I knocked on the teacher's door and peered through the glass. She rustled through the door and took me aside. "I want to talk to you about Jonathan," she said.

    I prepared myself for the worst. Nothing would have surprised me. "Did you know Jonathan brought flowers to school today?" she asked. I nodded, thinking about my favorite bush and trying to hide the hurt in my eyes. "Let me tell you about yesterday," the teacher insisted. "See that little girl?" I watched the bright-eyed child laugh and point to a colorful picture taped to the wall. I nodded.

    "Well, yesterday she was almost hysterical. Her mother and father are going through a nasty divorce. She told me she didn't want to live, she wished she could die. I watched that little girl bury her face in her hands and say loud enough for the class to hear, 'Nobody loves me'. I did all I could to comfort her, but it only seemed to make matters worse." "I thought you wanted to talk to me about Jonathan," I said.

    "I do," she said, touching the sleeve of my blouse. "Today your son walked straight over to that child. I watched him hand her some pretty pink flowers and whisper, 'I love you.'"

    I felt my heart swell with pride for what my son had done. I smiled at the teacher. "Thank you," I said, reaching for Jonathan's hand, "you've made my day."

    Later that evening, I began pulling weeds from around my azalea bush. As my mind wandered back to the love Jonathan showed the little girl, a biblical verse came to me: "... these three remain: faith, hope and love. But the greatest of these is love." While my son had put love into practice, I had only felt anger.

    I heard the familiar squeak of my husband's brakes as he pulled into the drive. I snapped a small limb bristling with hot pink azaleas off the bush. I felt the seed of love that God planted in my family beginning to bloom once again in me. My husband's eyes widened in surprise as I handed him the flowers. "I love you," I said.

阅读理解

    In 2010, after six years of training and further six years on the wards, I resigned from my job as a junior doctor. My parents still haven't forgiven me.

    Last year, the General Medical Council wrote to me to say they were taking my name off the medical register. It wasn't exactly a huge shock, as I hadn't practiced medicine in half a decade.

    It was, however, excellent news for my spare room, as I cleared out box after box of old paperwork, tearing files up fast. One thing I did rescue from the jaws of death was my training portfolio (档案袋). All doctors are recommended to log their clinical experience, in what's known as reflective practice'. On looking through this portfolio for the first time in years, my reflective practice seemed to involve going up to my hospital on-call room and writing down anything remotely interesting that had happened that day.

    Among the funny and the dull, I was reminded of the long hours and the huge impact being B. junior doctor had on my life. Reading back, it felt extreme and unreasonable in terms of what was expected of me, but at the time I'd just accepted it as part of the job. There were points where I wouldn't have stepped back if an entry read "had to eat a helicopter today".

    Around the same time that I was reliving all this through my diaries, junior doctors in the here and now were coming under fire from politicians. I couldn't help but feel doctors were struggling to get their side of the story across(probably because they were at work the whole time)and it struck me that the public weren't hearing the truth about what it actually means to be a doctor. Rather than shrugging my shoulders and ignoring the evidence, I decided I had to do something toredress thebalance.

    So here they are: the diaries I kept during my time in the NHS, verrucas()and all. What it's like working on the front line, the consequences in my personal life, and how, one terrible day, it all became too much for me. (Sorry for the spoiler of my book beforehand, but you still watchedTitanicknowing how that was going to play out.)

    Along the way, I'll help you out with the medical terminology(术语) and provide a bit of context about what each job involved. Unlike being a junior doctor, I won't just drop you in the deep end and expect you to know exactly what you're doing.

阅读理解

    Papa, as a son of a dirt-poor farmer, left school early and went to work in a factory, for education was for the rich then. So, the world became his school. With great interest, he read everything he could lay his hands on, listened to the town elders and learned about the world beyond his tiny hometown. "There's so much to learn," he'd say. "Though we're born stupid, only the stupid remain that way." He was determined that none of his children would be denied an education.

       Thus, Papa insisted that we learn at least one new thing each day. Though, as children, we thought this was crazy, it would never have occurred to us to deny Papa a request. And dinner time seemed perfect for sharing what we had learned. We would talk about the news of the day; no matter how insignificant,itwas never taken lightly. Papa would listen carefully and was ready with some comment, always to the point.

    Then came the moment—the time to share the day's new learning.

    Papa, at the head of the table, would push back his chair and pour a glass of red wine, ready to listen.

    "Felice," he'd say, "tell me what you learned today."

    "I learned that the population of Nepal is ..." Silence.

    Papa was thinking about what was said, as if the salvation of the world would depend upon it. "The population of Nepal. Hmm. Well …" he'd say. "Get the map; let's see where Nepal is." And the whole family went on a search for Nepal.

       This same experience was repeated until each family member had a turn. Dinner ended only after we had a clear understanding of at least half a dozen such facts.

    As children, we thought very little about these educational wonders. Our family, however, was growing together, sharing experiences and participating in one another's education. And by looking at us, listening to us, respecting our input, affirming our value, giving us a sense of dignity, Papa was unquestionably our most influential teacher.

    Later during my training as a future teacher, I studied with some of the most famous educators. They were imparting what Papa had known all along—the value of continual learning. His technique has served me well all my life. Not a single day has been wasted, though I can never tell when knowing the population of Nepal might prove useful.

阅读理解

     It's a Saturday night, the kids are asleep and we have no plans. Before we fall into our routine and watch a movie, I try to talk my husband into playing a card game. Unconvinced, he continues tapping away on his phone. But just before disappearing into the social media rabbit hole, he has an idea. He looks over me and suggests, "Why don't we try calling one of our friends?"

    I look at him with raised brows, as if his suggestion is somewhat ridiculous and perhaps even socially unacceptable. You can't just call someone out of the blue now…right? But then I think again and realize that at one point in time, in the not so distant past, this was the norm. I spent my early teenage years connecting with friends through a phone that was connected to a wall. It wasn't "smart", but it allowed me to keep in touch with the latest gossip and news. We would chat for hours, sometimes while I hid under my blanket in order to avoid the chance of being caught by my parents.

    I could even memorize the phone numbers of loved ones then. While I did own an address book—and there was always the White Pages, where you could look people up by their names—I had the contact details of special friends, first loves and family members committed to memory. I guess these days, they would be on my "Favorites" list in my smartphone.  

    Today, many of my "favorite" people are followed from a distance through social media, and even they very rarely—if ever—would get an actual call from me. The birth announcement by my oldest friend is received through catching a well-defined bump into a photo that I scroll past. The news of a divorce from a couple whom I had considered my second parents when I was in middle school arrives after a photo of a woman led me on a quest for more gossip. Bits of such information, a collection of wonderful, exciting, shocking and also boring news, may have been a part of my digital feed for years. The idea of actually picking up the phone to reconnect with a long-lost friend is an intimidating one—even seeing the name of an old friend pop up in an incoming call can feel a little afraid.

    I ask my husband, "Who would we call?" After tossing around a few names, we agree on some potential candidates—people whose lives have taken them in different directions, but with whom we still share deep friendships.

阅读理解

    We were five minutes into a severe winter storm-approaching Boston's Logan International Airport-when I turned to the woman next to me and said, "Hey, would you mind chatting with me for a few minutes?" My seatmate seemed friendly and I suddenly felt desperate for a human connection.

    "Sure. My name is Sue, "the woman replied, smiling warmly. "What brings you to Boston?" I started to explain that I was on a business trip. Then the plane trembled violently, and I blurted out, "I might need to hold your hand too. "Sue took my hand in both of hers, patted it, and held on tight.

    Sometimes a stranger can significantly improve our day. ①A pleasant meeting with someone we don't know, even an unspoken exchange, can calm us when no one else is around. It may get us out of our own heads-a proven mood lifter-and help broaden our vision. Sandstrom, a psychologist and senior lecturer at the University of Essex, has found that people's moods improve after they have a conversation with a stranger. And yet most of us resist talking to people we don't know or barely know.  We worry about how to start, maintain, or stop it. We think we will keep talking and disclose too much, or not talk enough. We are afraid we will bore the other person.

    We're typically wrong.

   ②   In a study in which Sandstrom asked participants to talk to at least one stranger a day for five days, 99 percent said they had found at least one of the exchanges pleasantly surprising, 82 percent said they'd learned something from one of the strangers, 43 percent had exchanged contact information, and 40 percent had communicated with one of the strangers again.

   ③Multiple studies show that people who interact regularly with passing acquaintances or who engage with others through community groups, religious gatherings, or volunteer opportunities have better emotional and physical health and live longer than those who do not. One person took up the cello after chatting with a woman on the subway who was carrying one. Another recalled how the smile of a fruit salesman from whom he regularly bought bananas made him feel less lonely after he'd first arrived in a new city.

   ④When Sue took my hand on that scary flight to Boston, I almost wept with relief. "Hey, this is a little bumpy, but we will be on the ground safely soon, "she told me. She looked so encouraging, and confident. I asked her what she did for a living. "I'm a retired physical education teacher, and I coached women's volleyball, "she said. Immediately, I could see what an awesome coach she must have been.

When we said goodbye, I gave Sue a big hug and my card. A few days later, I received an e-mail with the subject line" Broken hand on Jet Blue. ""I have to admit that I was just as scared as you were but did not say it, "Sue wrote. "I just squeezed your hand as hard as I could. Thank you for helping me through this very scary situation. "She added that when she'd told her friends about our conversation, they teased her because they know she loves to talk. I told my friends about Sue too. I explained how kind she was to me, and what I learned: It's OK to ask for help from a stranger if you need it. Now if I mention to my friends that I am stressed or worried, they respond, "Just think of Sue!"

阅读理解

    There are times when I set off for my running-group sessions with little enthusiasm. It might be because I'm tired, or stressed, or have had to unwillingly tear myself away form something else. I'm the coach, so I can't choose to give it a miss.

It was yet another cold, dark, wet evening and i wasn't feeling the love as I gathered all the necessary outfits—head torch, reflective waterproof jacket, hat and gloves. No one in their right mind will come out in this weather, I thought. But when I turned into the car park, my headlights picked out runners making a dash through the rain to our meeting point, where others were already working out to stay warm, with chat, laughter and hugs. They, too, I realized, might be tired, stressed or busy. But, unlike me, they had a choice abo9ut whether to come running or stay at home. And that makes their decision to come —and to keep on coming —all the more uplifting. As on so many other occasions, I went home from the run feeling better than when I'd arrived.

    I believe one of the strongest motivations behind these runners' decisions to come along is being part of a group. Belonging to a running community makes running greater than the sum of its parts. It's no longer just a workout; it's a catch-up with friends, a laugh and a shared experience. It provides a space to share your running triumphs and disappointments, to be congratulated and comforted, and, just as important, to congratulate and comfort others.

    Research has long shown the likelihood of staying motivated is higher when exercise takes place in a group. The reasons are many. A study at the University of Southern California found people enjoy physical activity more when the y are with others and are more likely to keep it up over the long term. There's also an element of social facilitation—an "I'm not going to let XX beat me" attitude that drives you to push harder and produces a greater sense of achievement. And research by Strava in 2017 found running in a group made runners go faster and further. Using data from 90 million runs taking place all over the world, Strava found that the average pace of runs taking place in a group was seven seconds per mile quicker than solo runs, and the distance covered was an average of 1.3 miles further.

    I joke about people being more motivated to come to my running sessions by the tea and biscuits afterwards than by the running itself. There's probably some truth in that, but it doesn't matter. Those laughter-and chatter-filled minutes are every bit as important as the running in between.

阅读理解

    Looking back on too many years of education, I can identify one truly impossible teacher. She cared about me, and my intellectual life, even when I didn't. Her expectations were high—impossibly so. She was an English teacher. She was also my mother.

    When good students turn in an essay, they dream of their instructor returning it to them in exactly the same condition, save for a single word added in the margin of the final page: "Flawless." This dream came true for me one afternoon in the ninth course, I had heard that genius could show itself at an early age, so I was only slightly taken aback that I had achieved perfection at the age of 14. Obviously, I did what any professional writer would do; I hurried off to spread the good news. I didn't get very far. The first person I told was my mother.

    My mother is normally incredibly soft-spoken, but when she got angry, she was terrifying. I am not sure if she was more upset by my hubris(得意忘形)or by the fact that my English teacher had let my ego get so out of hand. In any event,my mother and her red pen showed me how deeply flawed a flawless essay could be. At the time, I am sure she thought she was teaching me about transitions(过渡), structure, style and voice. But what I learned was a deeper lesson about the nature of creative criticism.

    Creative criticism implies something about who is able to give it, who knows you well enough to show you how your mental life is getting in the way of good writing. They are also the people who care enough to see you through this painful realization.  ① 

    I was lucky enough to find a critic and teacher who was willing to make the journey of writing with me." It is a thing of no great difficulty," according to Plutarch, "to raise objections against another man's speech, it is a very easy matter; but to produce a better in its place is a work extremely troublesome." Perhaps Plutarch is suggesting something a bit closer to Marcus Cicero's claim that one should" criticize by creation, not by finding fault." Genuine criticism creates a precious opening for an author to become better on his own terms—a process that is often extremely painful, but also almost always meaningful.

     ②  My mother said she would help me with my writing, but first I had to help myself. For each assignment, I was to write the best essay I could. Real criticism is not meant to find obvious mistakes, so if she found any—the type I could have found on my own—I had to start from scratch. From scratch. Once the essay was" flawless", she would take an evening to walk me through my errors.  ③ 

    She criticized me when I included little-known references and professional jargon(行话). She had no patience for brilliant but irrelevant figures of speech. Somewhere along the way I set aside my hopes of writing that flawless essay.  ④  But perhaps I missed something important in my mother's lessons about creativity and perfection. Perhaps the point of writing the flawless essay was not to give up, but to never willingly finish. Whitman repeatedly reworked "Song of Myself" between 1855 and 1891. Repeatedly. We do our absolute best with a piece of writing, and come as close as we can to the ideal. And, for the time being, we settle. In critique, however, we are forced to depart, to give up the perfection we thought we had achieved for the chance of being even a little bit better. This is the lesson I took from my mother: If perfection were possible, it would not be motivating.

阅读理解

    When I was a child, I dreamed of becoming many things. Sometimes, I wished I was an astronaut going up into space, finding new planets and jumping around in a cool space suit. Other times, I imagined being a cowboy in the Wild West, wearing stylish cowboy boots. On other occasions, I pretended to be a famous footballer, using my skills to score lots of goals for my team.

    Looking back, I realize that imagination is a wonderful thing. I was able to create entire environments andscenariosin my head, using nothing more than my brain, and to be able to adapt things in my everyday surroundings to fit the specific story of the day. Growing up with siblings (兄弟姐妹) also helped, as it meant that even bigger stories could be created, combining our ideas and putting our thoughts into action. It also allowed for more varieties in the stories, as sometimes I could be the hero while on other occasions, I would be the bad guy.

    One of my all-time favorite memories as a kid was playing in my back garden. I played the role of Indiana Jones, which cleaned up at the cinema at that time, with my younger sister as my assistant and my brother as a bad person. We used everything in our garden, from the path to the fence, as part of the storyline to create obstacles that needed to be overcome, and we would keep the story going for hours!

    My personal favorite game was Indiana Jones and the Stolen Easter Eggs, where my brother hid small chocolate eggs around the garden and my sister and I had to find them by answering questions or solving a puzzle. It was difficult, but eventually we found all the eggs and shared them together.

    Since then, I have seen many great things and met many amazing people. The elements of fun and varieties of my creative imaginations are what I try to bring into every part of my positive life. So I can enjoy sharing with and hearing about other people's stories, too.

阅读理解

    What is one of the most boring and tiresome words ever? Like discipline, responsibility is one of those words you have probably heard so many times from authority figures that you have been a bit allergic to it. Still, it's one of the most important things to grow and to feel good about your life. Without it as a foundation nothing else in any personal development book really works.

    It's been said that the line between childhood and adulthood is crossed when we move from saying "It got lost" to "I lost it". Indeed, being accountable, understanding and accepting the role our choices play in the things that happen are important signs of emotional and moral maturity. That's why responsibility is one of the main supports of good character.

    Many people have been refusing to grow up and avoiding the burdens implied in being accountable. Yes, responsibility sometimes requires us to do things that are unpleasant or even frightening. It asks us to carry our own weight, prepare and set goals and exercise the discipline to reach our ambitions. But the benefits of accepting responsibility are far more important than the short-lived advantages of refusing to do so. No one makes his or her life better by avoiding responsibility. In fact, irresponsibility is a form of self-forced servitude (苦役)to circumstances and to other people.

George Bernard Shaw once said, "People are always blaming their circumstances for what they are. I don't believe in circumstances. The people who get on in this world are the people who get up and look for the circumstances they want, and, if they can't find them, make them." "Man must stop owing his problems to his environment and learn again to exercise his will —his personal responsibility in the realm of faith and morals," said Albert Schweitzer.

    The following incident shows blaming others and not taking full responsibility: Bernard L. Brow. Jr. once worked in a hospital where a patient knocked over a cup of water, which spilled on the floor beside the patient's bed. The patient was afraid he might slip on the water if he got out of the bed, so he asked a nurse to mop it up. The patient didn't know it, but the hospital policy said that small spills were the responsibility of the nurse while large spills were to be mopped up by the hospital's housekeeping group.

    The nurse decided the spill was a large one and she called the housekeeping group. A housekeeper arrived and declared the spill a small one. An argument followed. "It's not my response." Well, it's not mine." she said," the puddle is too small."

    The angry patient listened for a time, then took a pitcher of water from his night table and poured the whole thing on the floor. "Is that a big enough puddle now for you two to decide?" he asked. It was, and that was the end of the argument.

    So, responsibility is about our ability to respond to circumstances and to choose the attitudes, actions and reactions that shape our lives. It is a concept of power that puts us in the driver's seat. The grand sight of the potential of our lives can only be appreciated when we begin to be accountable and independent. If you want more control over your life and the pleasures, power of freedom and independence, all you have to do is be responsible. Responsible people not only depend on themselves, but show others that they can be depended on.

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    I believe that my actions show my beliefs, not my words.

    I wrote a letter to my kids a few years ago. It's three pages long, and it sums up my life experience of four decades. By the time they reach adulthood, they will have heard most of their father's advice in that letter: live in the moment, do not attach yourself to physical things, treat others the way you would like to be treated, etc. I sealed the letter in a white envelope, and wrote instructions that nobody should open it unless something horrible happened to me.

    As a police officer, I have seen life disappear in an instant. I realize that could happen to me at any time. Yet knowing that letter is there in my locker makes me more comfortable with my own death.

    Every day, when I open my locker, I see the letter. It makes me aware that I should be careful at work, and show my children and the people I have connection with that I try to practice everything I have written. If that day comes and my children finally read the letter, I hope that because of my actions, they will take my written beliefs to heart and improve upon my example.

But for me, it's not enough to write down my beliefs. I try to be the best person I can be every day—even in very difficult circumstances. I am more successful some days than others, but sometimes I curse too much. Sometimes I am cynical, unwilling to believe that people have good and honest reasons for doing something. I also get stressed and upset, yelling at my kids sometimes, and sometimes I am not as loving or as sympathetic as I should be. In fact, I am far from perfect, but I hope my children will eventually realize that perfection is an illusion. What really matters is that, instead of just writing down our beliefs, we all take action to be the best humans we can be.

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    Two of the saddest words in the English language are "if only". I live my life with the goal of never having to say those words, because they convey regret, lost opportunities, mistakes, and disappointment.

    My father is famous in our family for saying, "Take the extra minute to do it right." I always try to live by the "extra minute" rule. When my children were young and likely to cause accidents, I always thought about what I could do to avoid an "if only" moment, whether it was something minor like moving a cup full of hot coffee away from the edge of a counter, or something that required a little more work such as taping padding (衬垫) onto the sharp corners of a glass coffee table.

    I don't only avoid those "if only" moments when it comes to safety. It's equally important to avoid "if only" in our personal relationships. We all know people who lost a loved one and regretted that they hadforegonean opportunity to say "I love you" or "I forgive you." When my father announced he was going to the eye doctor across from my office on Good Friday, I told him that it was a holiday for my company and I wouldn't be here. But then I thought about the fact that he's 84 years old and I realized that I shouldn't give up an opportunity to see him. I called him and told him I had decided to go to work on my day off after all.

    I know there will still be occasions when I have to say "if only" about something, but my life is definitely better because of my policy of doing everything possible to avoid that eventuality. And even though it takes an extra minute to do something right, or it occasionally takes an hour or two in my busy schedule to make a personal connection, I know that I'm doing the right thing. I'm buying myself peace of mind and that's the best kind of insurance for my emotional well-being.

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    America is well known for being a melting pot of different ethnic groups and cultures, but nowhere is this diversity more pronounced than in Queens, New York.

    Here, second-generation Puerto Ricans live alongside third-generation Greeks and first-generation Koreans, all united by a common feeling of pride in their American identity. However, they are also proud and curious about their ancestral roots. National Geographic's Genographic Project, also known as the Human Family Tree, set out to trace the origins by examining their genetic makeup using a simple DNA test. What interested them more was something that intrigues us all: the history of our recent ancestry.One recurring themeamong immigrants seems to be the hard work and sacrifices that went into building a new life, and how their descendants now feel a duty to honor that effort by working hard too. Here is one Queens resident's story.

    Richard, 38

    My great-grandfather Tomas came to America from Poland when he was fifteen. His mother had died, and his father remarried. Tomas didn't like his stepmother, so he ran away to Belgium, where he boarded a ship to America—without a ticket. Arriving in America with nothing, he got a job on the railroads in California. Then one day he saw an announcement in a newspaper that was read by immigrants. It was from his brother in New York who was also seeking his fortune in America and was looking for him. Tomas got in touch and they had an emotional reunion in New York, where Tomas subsequently settled. This is the story that my grandmother has passed down to us, to my parents, and all my aunts and uncles. She is an amazing woman and I suppose: the one who holds us all together. She's actually quite forgetful now, but she never forgets family details. What that has meant is that all of us have a strong family bond and a strong sense of belonging to a group that has struggled and fought together to steered here.

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    California has lost half its big trees since the 1930s, according to a study to be published Tuesday and climate change seems to be a major factor（因素）.

    The number of trees larger than two feet across has declined by 50 percent on more than 46, 000 square miles of California forests, the new study finds. No area was spared or unaffected, from the foggy northern coast to the Sierra Nevada Mountains to the San Gabriels above Los Angeles. In the Sierra high country, the number of big trees has fallen by more than 55 percent; in parts of southern California the decline was nearly 75 percent.

    Many factors contributed to the decline, said Patrick Mclntyre, an ecologist who was the lead author of the study. Woodcutters targeted big trees. Housing development pushed into the woods. Aggressive wildfire control has left California forests crowded with small trees that compete with big trees for resources（资源）.

    But in comparing a study of California forests done in the 1920s and 1930s with another one between 2001 and 2010, Mclntyre and his colleagues documented a widespread death of big trees that was evident even in wildlands protected from woodcutting or development.

    The loss of big trees was greatest in areas where trees had suffered the greatest water shortage. The researchers figured out water stress with a computer model that calculated how much water trees were getting in comparison with how much they needed, taking into account such things as rainfall, air temperature, dampness of soil, and the timing of snowmelt（融雪）.

    Since the 1930s, Mclntyre said, the biggest factors driving up water stress in the state have been rising temperatures, which cause trees to lose more water to the air, and earlier snowmelt, which reduces the water supply available to trees during the dry season.

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    Failure is probably the most exhausting experience a person ever has. There is nothing more tiring than not succeeding.

    We experience this tiredness in two ways: as start-up fatigue(疲惫) and performance fatigue. In the former case, we keep putting off a task because it has either too boring or too difficult. And the longer we delay it, the more tired we feel.

    Such start-up fatigue is very real, even if not actually physical, not something in our muscles and bones. The solution is obvious though perhaps not easy to apply: always handle the most difficult job first.

    Years ago, I was asked to write 102 essays on the great ideas of some famous authors. Applying my own rule, I determined to write them in alphabetical(按字母顺序), never letting myself leave out a tough idea. And I always started the day's work with the difficult task of essay-writing. Experience proved that the rule works.

    Performance fatigue is more difficult to handle. Though willing to get started, we cannot seem to do the job right. Its difficulties appear so great that, however hard we work, we fail again and again. In such a situation, I work as hard as I can-then let the unconscious take over.

    When planning Encyclopaedia Britannica (《大英百科全书》), I had to create a table of contents based on the topics of its articles. Nothing like this had ever been done before, and day after dat I kept coming up with solutions, but none of them worked. My fatigue became almost unbearable.

    One day, mentally exhausted, I wrote down all the reasons why this problem could not be solved. I tried to convince myself that the trouble was with the problem itself, not with me. Relived, I sat back in an easy chair and fell asleep.

    An hour later, I woke up suddenly with the solution clearly in mind. In the weeks that followed, the solution which had come up in my unconscious mind provided correct at every step. Though I worked as hard as before, I felt no fatigue. Success was now as exciting as failure had been depressing.

    Human beings, I believe must try to succeed. Success, then, means never feeling tired.