更多"{{B}}TEXT C{{/B}} When I was grow"的相关试题:
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{{B}}TEXT C{{/B}}
When I was growing up, the
whole world was Jewish. The heroes were Jewish and the villains were Jewish. The
landlord, the doctor, the grocer, your best friend, the village idiot, the
neighborhood bully: all Jewish. We were working class and immigrants as well,
but that just came with the territory. Essentially we were Jews on the streets
of New York. We learned to be kind, cruel, smart and feeling in a mixture of
language and gesture that was part street slang, part grade-school English, part
kitchen Yiddish.
One Sunday evening when I was eight years old
my parents and I were riding in the back seat of my rich uncle’s car. We had
been out for a ride and now we were back in the Bronx, headed for home.
Suddenly, another car sideswiped us. My mother and aunt shrieked. My uncle swore
softly. My father, in whose lap I was sitting, said out the window at the
speeding car, "That’s all right. Nothing but a few Jews
A. quite satisfied with her life
B. a poor Jewish girl
C. born in a middle-class family
D. a resident in a rich area in New York
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A
Henry James When he was growing up in New York, Henry was given a great deal of independence, so much in fact, that he felt isolated from other people. As a quiet child among exuberant brothers and cousins, Henry was more often an observer than a participant in their activities. When, as a young man, a back injury prevented his fighting in the Civil War, he felt even more excluded from the events of his time. While the adult Henry James developed many close friendships, he retained his attitude of observer, and devoted much of his life to solitary work on his writing.
Henry’s family lived for a time in Boston, where he became acquainted with New England authors and friends of his father, began his friendship with William Dean Howells, and attended Harvard Law School. After 1866, James lived in Europe much of the time and in 1875 decided to make it his permanent home. He lived in Paris for a year, where he met Turgenev, Flaubert, and Zola. The nex
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My Mother’s English
When I was
growing up in America, I was ashamed of my mother’s Chinese English. Because of
her English, she was often treated unfairly. People in department stores, at
banks, and at restaurants did not take her seriously, did not give her good
service, pretended not to understand her, or even acted as if they did not hear
her. My mother has realized the limitations of her English as well. When I was
fifteen, she used to have me call people on phone to pretend I was she. I was
forced to ask for information or even to yell at people who had been rude to
her. One time I had to call her stockbroker(股票经纪人). I said in an adolescent
voice that was not very convincing, "This is Mrs. Tan."
And my
mother was standing beside me, whispering loudly, "Why he don’t send me check
already two weeks ago."
And then, in perfect English I said:
"I’m getting rather concerned. You agreed to send the check two weeks ago, but
it hasn’t arrived."
Then she talked more loudly. "What he want
I come to New York tell him front of his boss." and so I turned to the
stockbroker again, "I call’t tolerate any more excuse. If I don’t receive the
check immediately, I am going to have to speak to your manager when I am in New
York next week."
The next week we ended up in New York. While I
was sitting there red-faced, my mother, the real Mrs. Tan, was shouting to his
boss in her broken English.
When I was a teenager, my mother’s
broken English embarrassed me. But now, I see it differently. To me, my mother’s
English is perfectly clear, perfectly natural. It is my mother tongue. Her
language, as I hear it, is vivid, direct, and full of observation and wisdom. It
was the language that helped shape the way I saw things, expressed ideas, and
made sense of the world.I tried my best to help my mother learn English______
A. True
B. False
C. Not Given
