新视野大学英语(第二版)读写教程 第一单元 课文翻译
新视野大学英语第二版Unit1-7原文+课后翻译
新视野大学英语第二版Unit1-7原文+课后翻译Unit 1 Time-Conscious AmericansAmericans believe no one stands still. If you are not moving ahead, you are falling behind. This attitude results in a nation of people committed to researching, experimenting and exploring. Time is one of the two elements that Americans save carefully, the other being labor."We are slaves to nothing but the clock," it has been said. Time is treated as if it were something almost real. We budget it, save it, waste it, steal it, kill it, cut it, account for it; we also charge for it. It is a precious resource. Many people have a rather acute sense of the shortness of each lifetime. Once the sands have run out of a person's hourglass, they cannot be replaced. We want every minute to count.A foreigner's first impression of the US is likely to be that everyone is in a rush—often under pressure. City people always appear to be hurrying to get where they are going, restlessly seeking attention in a store, or elbowing others as they try to complete their shopping. Racing through daytime meals is part of the pace of life in this country. Working time is considered precious. Others in public eating-places are waiting for you to finish so they, too, can be served and get back to work within the time allowed. You also find drivers will be abrupt and people will push past you. You will miss smiles, brief conversations, and small exchanges with strangers. Don't take it personally. This is because people value time highly, and they resent someone else "wasting" it beyond a certain appropriate point.Many new arrivals in the States will miss the opening exchanges of a business call, for example. They will miss the ritualinteraction that goes with a welcoming cup of tea or coffee that may be a convention in their own country. They may miss leisurely business chats in a restaurant or coffee house. Normally, Americans do not assess their visitors in such relaxed surroundings over extended small talk; much less do they take them out for dinner, or around on the golf course while they develop a sense of trust. Since we generally assess and probe professionally rather than socially, we start talking business very quickly. Time is, therefore, always ticking in our inner ear.Consequently, we work hard at the task of saving time. We produce a steady flow of labor-saving devices; we communicate rapidly through faxes, phone calls or emails rather than through personal contacts, which though pleasant, take longer—especially given our traffic-filled streets. We, therefore, save most personal visiting for after-work hours or for social weekend gatherings.To us the impersonality of electronic communication has little or no relation to the significance of the matter at hand. In some countries no major business is conducted without eye contact, requiring face-to-face conversation. In America, too, a final agreement will normally be signed in person. However, people are meeting increasingly on television screens, conducting "teleconferences" to settle problems not only in this country but also—by satellite—internationally.The US is definitely a telephone country. Almost everyone uses the telephone to conduct business, to chat with friends, to make or break social appointments, to say "Thank you", to shop and to obtain all kinds of information. Telephones save the feet and endless amounts of time. This is due partly to the fact that the telephone service is superb here, whereas the postal serviceis less efficient.Some new arrivals will come from cultures where it is considered impolite to work too quickly. Unless a certain amount of time is allowed to elapse, it seems in their eyes as if the task being considered were insignificant, not worthy of proper respect. Assignments are, consequently, given added weight by the passage of time. In the US, however, it is taken as a sign of skillfulness or being competent to solve a problem, or fulfill a job successfully, with speed. Usually, the more important a task is, the more capital, energy, and attention will be poured into it in order to "get it moving".Unit 2 Learning the Olympic Standard for LoveNikolai Petrovich Anikin was not half as intimidating as I had imagined he would be. No, this surely was not the ex-Soviet coach my father had shipped me out to meet.But Nikolai he was, Petrovich and all. He invited me inside and sat down on the couch, patting the blanket next to him to get me to sit next to him. I was so nervous in his presence."You are young," he began in his Russian-style English. "If you like to try for Olympic Games, I guess you will be able to do this. Nagano Olympics too soon for you, but for 2002 in Salt Lake City, you could be ready.""Yes, why not?" he replied to the shocked look on my face. I was a promising amateur skier, but by no means the top skier in the country. "Of course, there will be many hard training sessions, and you will cry, but you will improve."To be sure, there were countless training sessions full of pain and more than a few tears, but in the five years that followed I could always count on being encouraged by Nikolai's amusing stories and sense of humor."My friends, they go in the movies, they go in the dance, they go out with girls," he would start. "But I," he would continue, lowering his voice, "I am practice, practice, practice in the stadium. And by the next year, I had cut 1-1/2 minutes off my time in the 15-kilometer race!"My friends asked me, 'Nikolai, how did you do it?' And I replied, 'You go in the movies, you go in the dance, you go out with girls, but I am practice, practice, practice.'Here the story usually ended, but on one occasion, which we later learned was his 25th wedding anniversary, he stood proudly in a worn woolen sweater and smiled and whispered, "And I tell you, I am 26 years old before I ever kiss a girl! She was the woman I later marry."Romantic and otherwise, Nikolai knew love. His consistent good humor, quiet gratitude, perceptivity, and sincerity set an Olympic standard for love that I continue to reach for, even though my skiing days are over.Still, he never babied me. One February day I had a massive headache and felt quite fatigued. I came upon him in a clearing, and after approximately 15 minutes of striding into the cold breeze over the white powder to catch him, I fussed, "Oh, Nikolai, I feel like I am going to die.""When you are a hundred years old, everybody dies," he said, indifferent to my pain. "But now," he continued firmly. "Now must be ski, ski, ski."And, on skis, I did what he said. On other matters, though, I was rebellious. Once, he packed 10 of us into a Finnish bachelor's tiny home for a low-budget ski camp. We awoke the first morning to find Nikolai making breakfast and then made quick work with our spoons while sitting on makeshift chairs around a tiny cardtable. When we were finished, Nikolai stacked the sticky bowls in front of my sole female teammate and me, asserting, "Now, girls do dishes!"I threw my napkin on the floor and swore at him, "Ask the damn boys! This is unfair." He never asked this of me again, nor did he take much notice of my outburst. He saved his passion for skiing.When coaching, he would sing out his instructions keeping rhythm with our stride: "Yes, yes, one-two-three, one-two-three."A dear lady friend of my grandfather, after viewing a copy of a video of me training with Nikolai, asked, "Does he also teach dance?"In training, I worked without rest to correct mistakes that Nikolai pointed out and I asked after each pass if it was better."Yes, it's OK. But the faster knee down, the better.""But is it fast enough?" I'd persist.Finally he would frown and say, "Billion times you make motion—then be perfect," reminding me in an I've-told-you-a-billion-times tone, "You must be patient."Nikolai's patience and my hard work earned me a fourth-place national ranking heading into the pre-Olympic season, but then I missed the cut for the 2002 Olympics.Last summer, I returned to visit Nikolai. He made me tea... and did the dishes! We talked while sitting on his couch. Missing the Olympic T eam the previous year had made me pause and reflect on what I had gained—not the least of which was a quiet, indissoluble bond with a short man in a tropical shirt.Nikolai taught me to have the courage, heart, and discipline to persist, even if it takes a billion tries. He taught me to be thankful in advance for a century of life on earth, and to remindmyself every day that despite the challenges at hand, "Now must be love, love, love."Unit3Marriage Across the NationsGail and I imagined a quiet wedding. During our two years together we had experienced the usual ups and downs of a couple learning to know, understand, and respect each other. But through it all we had honestly confronted the weaknesses and strengths of each other's characters.Our racial and cultural differences enhanced our relationship and taught us a great deal about tolerance, compromise, and being open with each other. Gail sometimes wondered why I and other blacks were so involved with the racial issue, and I was surprised that she seemed to forget the subtler forms of racial hatred in American society.Gail and I had no illusions about what the future held for us as a married, mixed couple in America. The continual source of our strength was our mutual trust and respect.We wanted to avoid the mistake made by many couples of marrying for the wrong reasons, and only finding out ten, twenty, or thirty years later that they were incompatible, that they hardly took the time to know each other, that they overlooked serious personality conflicts in the expectation that marriage was an automatic way to make everything work out right. That point was emphasized by the fact that Gail's parents, after thirty-five years of marriage, were going through a bitter and painful divorce, which had destroyed Gail and for a time had a negative effect on our budding relationship.When Gail spread the news of our wedding plans to her family she met with some resistance. Her mother, Deborah, all along had been supportive of our relationship, and even jokedabout when we were going to get married so she could have grandchildren. Instead of congratulations upon hearing our news, Deborah counseled Gail to be really sure she was doing the right thing."So it was all right for me to date him, but it's wrong for me to marry him. Is his color the problem, Mom?" Gail subsequently told me she had asked her mother."To start with I must admit that at first I harbored reservations about a mixed marriage, prejudices you might even call them. But when I met Mark I found him a charming and intelligent young guy. Any mother would be proud to have him for a son-in-law. So,color has nothing to do with it. Yes, my friends talk. Some even express shock at what you're doing. But they live in a different world. So you see, Mark's color is not the problem. My biggest worry is that you may be marrying Mark for the same wrong reasons that I married your father. When we met I saw him as my beloved, intelligent, charming, and caring. It was all so new, all so exciting, and we both thought, on the surface at least, that ours was an ideal marriage with every indication that it would last forever. I realized only later that I didn't know my beloved, your father, very well when we married.""But Mark and I have been together more than two years," Gail railed. "We've been through so much together. We've seen each other at our worst many times. I'm sure that time will only confirm what we feel deeply about each other.""You may be right. But I still think that waiting won't hurt. You're only twenty-five."Gail's father, David, whom I had not yet met personally, approached our decision with a father-knows-best attitude. Hebasically asked the same questions as Gail's mother: "Why the haste? Who is this Mark? What's his citizenship status?" And when he learned of my problems with the Citizenship department, he immediately suspected that I was marrying his daughter in order to remain in the United States."But Dad, that's harsh," Gail said."Then why the rush? Buy time, buy time," he remarked repeatedly."Mark has had problems with citizenship before and has always taken care of them himself," Gail defended." In fact, he made it very clear when we were discussing marriage that if I had any doubts about anything, I should not hesitate to cancel our plans."Her father proceeded to quote statistics showing that mixed couples had higher divorce rates than couples of the same race and gave examples of mixed couples he had counseled who were having marital difficulties."Have you thought about the hardships your children would go through?" he asked."Dad, are you a racist?""No, of course not. But you have to be realistic.""Maybe our children will have some problems, but whose children don't? But one thing they'll always have: our love and devotion.""That's idealistic. People can be very cruel toward children from mixed marriages.""Dad, we'll worry about that when the time comes. If we had to resolve all doubt before we acted, very little would ever get done.""Remember, it's never too late to change your mind."Unit 4 A Test of True LoveSix minutes to six, said the digital clock over the information desk in Grand Central Station. John Blandford, a tall young army officer, focused his eyesight on the clock to note the exact time. In six minutes he would see the woman who had filled a special place in his life for the past thirteen months, a woman he had never seen, yet whose written words had been with him and had given him strength without fail.Soon after he volunteered for military service, he had received a book from this woman. A letter, which wished him courage and safety, came with the book. He discovered that many of his friends, also in the army, had received the identical book from the woman, Hollis Meynell. And while they all got strength from it, and appreciated her support of their cause, John Blandford was the only person to write Ms. Meynell back. On the day of his departure, to a destination overseas where he would fight in the war, he received her reply. Aboard the cargo ship that was taking him into enemy territory, he stood on the deck and read her letter to him again and again.For thirteen months, she had faithfully written to him. When his letters did not arrive, she wrote anyway, without decrease. During the difficult days of war, her letters nourished him and gave him courage. As long as he received letters from her, he felt as though he could survive. After a short time, he believed he loved her, and she loved him. It was as if fate had brought them together.But when he asked her for a photo, she declined his request. She explained her objection: "If your feelings for me have any reality, any honest basis, what I look like won't matter. Suppose I'm beautiful. I'd always be bothered by the feeling that you lovedme for my beauty, and that kind of love would disgust me. Suppose I'm plain. Then I'd always fear you were writing to me only because you were lonely and had no one else. Either way, I would forbid myself from loving you. When you come to New York and you see me, then you can make your decision. Remember, both of us are free to stop or to go on after that—if that's what we choose..."One minute to six... Blandford's heart leaped.A young woman was coming toward him, and he felt a connection with her right away. Her figure was long and thin, her spectacular golden hair lay back in curls from her small ears. Her eyes were blue flowers; her lips had a gentle firmness. In her fancy green suit she was like springtime come alive.He started toward her, entirely forgetting to notice that she wasn't wearing a rose, and as he moved, a small, warm smile formed on her lips."Going my way, soldier?" she asked.Uncontrollably, he made one step closer to her. Then he saw Hollis Meynell.She was standing almost directly behind the girl, a woman well past forty, and a fossil to his young eyes, her hair sporting patches of gray. She was more than fat; her thick legs shook as they moved. But she wore a red rose on her brown coat.The girl in the green suit was walking quickly away and soon vanished into the fog. Blandford felt as though his heart was being compressed into a small cement ball, so strong was his desire to follow the girl, yet so deep was his longing for the woman whose spirit had truly companioned and brought warmth to his own; and there she stood. Her pale, fat face was gentle and intelligent; he could see that now. Her gray eyes had a warm,kindly look.Blandford resisted the urge to follow the younger woman, though it was not easy to do so. His fingers held the book she had sent to him before he went off to the war, which was to identify him to Hollis Meynell. This would not be love. However, it would be something precious, something perhaps even less common than love—a friendship for which he had been, and would always be, thankful.He held the book out toward the woman."I'm John Blandford, and you—you are Ms. Meynell. I'm so glad you could meet me. May I take you to dinner?" The woman smiled. "I don't know what this is all about, son," she answered. "That young lady in the green suit—the one who just went by—begged me to wear this rose on my coat. And she said that if you asked me to go out with you, I should tell you that she's waiting for you in that big restaurant near the highway. She said it was some kind of a test."Unit5 Weeping for My Smoking DaughterMy daughter smokes. While she is doing her homework, her feet on the bench in front of her and her calculator clicking out answ ers to her geometry problems, I am looking at the half-empty package of Camels tossed carelessly close at hand. I pick them up, take t hem into the kitchen, where the light is better, and study them -- they are filtered, for which I am grateful. My heart feels terrible. I wa nt to weep. In fact, I do weep a little, standing there by the stove holding one of the instruments, so white, so precisely rolled, that coul d cause my daughter's death. When she smoked Marlboros and Players I hardened myself against feeling so bad; nobody I knew ever s moked these brands.She doesn't know this, but it was Camels that my father, hergrandfather, smoked. But before he smoked cigarettes made by manu facturers -- when he was very young and very poor, with glowing eyes -- he smoked Prince Albert tobacco in cigarettes he rolled hims elf. I remember the bright-red tobacco tin, with a picture of Queen Victoria's partner, Prince Albert, dressed in a black dress coat and c arrying a cane .By the late forties and early fifties no one rolled his own anymore (and few women smoked) in my hometown of Eatonton, Georg ia. The tobacco industry, coupled with Hollywood movies in which both male and female heroes smoked like chimneys, completely w on over people like my father, who were hopelessly hooked by cigarettes. He never looked as fashionable as Prince Albert, though; he continued to look like a poor, overweight, hard working colored man with too large a family, black, with a very white cigarette stuck i n his mouth.I do not remember when he started to cough. Perhaps it was unnoticeable at first, a little coughing in the morning as he lit his first cigarette upon getting out of bed. By the time I was sixteen, my daughter's age, his breath was a wheeze, embarrassing to hear; he cou ld not climb stairs without resting every third or fourth step. It was not unusual for him to cough for an hour.My father died from "the poor man's friend", pneumonia, one hard winter when his lung illnesses had left him low. I doubt he had much lung left at all, after coughing for so many years. He had so little breath that, during his last years, he was always leaning on som ething. I remembered once, at a family reunion, when my daughter was two, that my father picked her up for a minute -- long enough for me to photograph them -- but the effort was obvious. Near the very end of his life, and largely because he had no more lungs, he qu it smoking. He gained acouple of pounds, but by then he was so slim that no one noticed.When I travel to Third World countries I see many people like my father and daughter. There are large advertisement signs directe d at them both: the tough, confident or fashionable older man, the beautiful, "worldly" young woman, both dragging away. In these po or countries, as in American inner cities and on reservations, money that should be spent for food goes instead to the tobacco compani es; over time, people starve themselves of both food and air, effectively weakening and hooking their children, eventually killing them selves. I read in the newspaper and in my gardening magazine that the ends of cigarettes are so poisonous that if a baby swallows one, it is likely to die, and that the boiled water from a bunch of them makes an effective insecticide.There is a deep hurt that I feel as a mother. Some days it is a feeling of uselessness. I remember how carefully I ate when I was pr egnant, how patiently I taught my daughter how to cross a street safely. For what, I sometimes wonder; so that she can struggle to brea the through most of her life feeling half her strength, and then die of self-poisoning, as her grandfather did?There is a quotation from a battered women's shelter that I especially like: "Peace on earth begins at home." I believe everything d oes. I think of a quotation for people trying to stop smoking: "Every home is a no smoking zone." Smoking is a form of self-battering that also batters those who must sit by, occasionally joke or complain, and helplessly watch. I realize now that as a child I sat by, throu gh the years, and literally watched my father kill himself: surely one such victory in my family, for the prosperous leaders who own th e tobacco companies, is enoughUnit 6 As His Name Is, So Is He!For her first twenty-four years, she'd been known as Debbie—a name that didn't suit her good looks and elegant manner. "My name has always made me think I should be a cook," she complained. "I just don't feel like a Debbie."One day, while filling out an application form for a publishing job, the young woman impulsively substituted her middle name, Lynne, for her first name Debbie. "That was the smartest thing I ever did," she says now. "As soon as I stopped calling myself Debbie, I felt more comfortable with myself... and other people started to take me more seriously." Two years after her successful job interview, the former waitress is now a successful magazine editor. Friends and associates call her Lynne.Naturally, the name change didn't cause Debbie/Lynne's professional achievement—but it surely helped if only by adding a bit of self-confidence to her talents. Social scientists say that what you're called can affect your life. Throughout history, names have not merely identified people but also described them. "As his name is, so is he." says the Bible, and Webster's Dictionary includes the following definition of name: "a word or words expressing some quality considered characteristic or descriptive of a person or a thing, often expressing approval or disapproval". Note well "approval or disapproval". For better or worse, qualities such as friendliness or reserve, plainness or charm may be suggested by your name and conveyed to other people before they even meet you.Names become attached to specific images, as anyone who's been called "a plain Jane" or "just an average Joe" can show. The latter name particularly bothers me since my name is Joe, which some think makes me more qualified to be a baseball player than,say, an art critic. Yet, despite this disadvantage, I did manage to become an art critic for a time. Even so, one prominent magazine consistently refused to print "Joe" in my by-line, using my first initials, J. S., instead. I suspect that if I were a more refined Arthur or Adrian, the name would have appeared complete.Of course, names with a positive sense can work for you and even encourage new acquaintances. A recent survey showed that American men thought Susan to be the most attractive female name, while women believed Richard and David were the most attractive for men. One woman I know turned down a blind date with a man named Harry because "he sounded dull". Several evenings later, she came up to me at a party, pressing for an introduction to a very impressive man; they'd been exchanging glances all evening. "Oh," I said. "You mean Harry." She was ill at ease.Though most of us would like to think ourselves free from such prejudiced notions, we're all guilty of name stereotyping to some extent. Confess: Wouldn't you be surprised to meet a carpenter named Nigel? A physicist named Bertha? A Pope Mel? Often, we project name-based stereotypes on people, as one woman friend discovered while taking charge of a nursery school's group of four-year-olds. "There I was, trying to get a little active boy named Julian to sit quietly and read a book—and pushing a thoughtful creature named Rory to play ball. I had their personalities confused because of their names!"Apparently, such prejudices can affect classroom achievement as well. In a study conducted by Herbert Harari of San Diego State University, and John McDavid of Georgia State University, teachers gave consistently lower grades on essays apparently written by boys named Elmer and Hubert than theyawarded to the same papers when the writers' names were given as Michael and David. However, teacher prejudice isn't the only source of classroom difference. Dr. Thomas V. Busse and Louisa Seraydarian of Temple University found those girls with names such as Linda, Diane, Barbara, Carol, and Cindy performed better on objectively graded IQ and achievement tests than did girls with less appealing names. (A companion study showed girls' popularity with their peers was also related to the popularity of their names―although the connection was less clear for boys.) Though your parents probably meant your name to last a lifetime, remember that when they picked it they'd hardly met you, and the hopes and dreams they valued when they chose it may not match yours. If your name no longer seems to fit you, don't despair; you aren't stuck with the label. Movie stars regularly change their names, and with some determination, you can, too.Unit 7 Lighten Your Load and Save Your LifeIf you often feel angry and overwhelmed, like the stress in your life is spinning out of control, then you may be hurting your heart.If you don't want to break your own heart, you need to learn to take charge of your life where you can—and recognize there are many things beyond your control.So says Dr. Robert S. Eliot, author of a new book titled From Stress to Strength: How to Lighten Your Load and Save Your Life. He's a clinical professor of medicine at the University of Nebraska.Eliot says there are people in this world that he calls "hot reactors". For these people, being tense may cause tremendous and rapid increases in their blood pressure.Eliot says researchers have found that stressed people have。
新视野大学英语第二版Unit1-7原文+课后翻译
Unit 1 Time-Conscious AmericansAmericans believe no one stands still. If you are not moving ahead, you are falling behind. This attitude results in a nation of people committed to researching, experimenting and exploring. Time is one of the two elements that Americans save carefully, the other being labor."We are slaves to nothing but the clock," it has been said. Time is treated as if it were something almost real. We budget it, save it, waste it, steal it, kill it, cut it, account for it; we also charge for it. It is a precious resource. Many people have a rather acute sense of the shortness of each lifetime. Once the sands have run out of a person's hourglass, they cannot be replaced. We want every minute to count.A foreigner's first impression of the US is likely to be that everyone is in a rush—often under pressure. City people always appear to be hurrying to get where they are going, restlessly seeking attention in a store, or elbowing others as they try to complete their shopping. Racing through daytime meals is part of the pace of life in this country. Working time is considered precious. Others in public eating-places are waiting for you to finish so they, too, can be served and get back to work within the time allowed. You also find drivers will be abrupt and people will push past you. You will miss smiles, brief conversations, and small exchanges with strangers. Don't take it personally. This is because people value time highly, and they resent someone else "wasting" it beyond a certain appropriate point.Many new arrivals in the States will miss the opening exchanges of a business call, for example. They will miss the ritual interaction that goes with a welcoming cup of tea or coffee that may be a convention in their own country. They may miss leisurely business chats in a restaurant or coffee house. Normally, Americans do not assess their visitors in such relaxed surroundings over extended small talk; much less do they take them out for dinner, or around on the golf course while they develop a sense of trust. Since we generally assess and probe professionally rather than socially, we start talking business very quickly. Time is, therefore, always ticking in our inner ear.Consequently, we work hard at the task of saving time. We produce a steady flow of labor-saving devices; we communicate rapidly through faxes, phone calls or emails rather than through personal contacts, which though pleasant, take longer—especially given our traffic-filled streets. We, therefore, save most personal visiting for after-work hours or for social weekend gatherings.To us the impersonality of electronic communication has little or no relation to the significance of the matter at hand. In some countries no major business is conducted without eye contact, requiring face-to-face conversation. In America, too, a final agreement will normally be signed in person. However, people are meeting increasingly on television screens, conducting "teleconferences" to settle problems not only in this country but also—by satellite—internationally.The US is definitely a telephone country. Almost everyone uses the telephone to conduct business, to chat with friends, to make or break social appointments, to say "Thank you", to shop and to obtain all kinds of information. Telephones save the feet and endless amounts of time. This is due partly to the fact that the telephone service is superb here, whereas the postal service is less efficient.Some new arrivals will come from cultures where it is considered impolite to work too quickly. Unless a certain amount of time is allowed to elapse, it seems in their eyes as if the task being considered were insignificant, not worthy of proper respect. Assignments are, consequently, given added weight by the passage of time. In the US, however, it is taken as a sign of skillfulness or being competent to solve a problem, or fulfill a job successfully, with speed. Usually, the more important a task is, the more capital, energy, and attention will be poured into it in order to "get it moving".Unit 2 Learning the Olympic Standard for LoveNikolai Petrovich Anikin was not half as intimidating as I had imagined he would be. No, this surely was not the ex-Soviet coach my father had shipped me out to meet.But Nikolai he was, Petrovich and all. He invited me inside and sat down on the couch, patting the blanket next to him to get me to sit next to him. I was so nervous in his presence."You are young," he began in his Russian-style English. "If you like to try for Olympic Games, I guess you will be able to do this. Nagano Olympics too soon for you, but for 2002 in Salt Lake City, you could be ready.""Yes, why not?" he replied to the shocked look on my face. I was a promising amateur skier, but by no means the top skier in the country. "Of course, there will be many hard training sessions, and you will cry, but you will improve."To be sure, there were countless training sessions full of pain and more than a few tears, but in the five years that followed I could always count on being encouraged by Nikolai's amusing stories and sense of humor."My friends, they go in the movies, they go in the dance, they go out with girls," he would start. "But I," he would continue, lowering his voice, "I am practice, practice, practice in the stadium. And by the next year, I had cut 1-1/2 minutes off my time in the 15-kilometer race!"My friends asked me, 'Nikolai, how did you do it?' And I replied, 'You go in the movies, you go in the dance, you go out with girls, but I am practice, practice, practice.'Here the story usually ended, but on one occasion, which we later learned was his 25th wedding anniversary, he stood proudly in a worn woolen sweater and smiled and whispered, "And I tell you, I am 26 years old before I ever kiss a girl! She was the woman I later marry."Romantic and otherwise, Nikolai knew love. His consistent good humor, quiet gratitude, perceptivity, and sincerity set an Olympic standard for love that I continue to reach for, even though my skiing days are over.Still, he never babied me. One February day I had a massive headache and felt quite fatigued. I came upon him in a clearing, and after approximately 15 minutes of striding into the cold breeze over the white powder to catch him, I fussed, "Oh, Nikolai, I feel like I am going to die.""When you are a hundred years old, everybody dies," he said, indifferent to my pain. "But now," he continued firmly. "Now must be ski, ski, ski."And, on skis, I did what he said. On other matters, though, I was rebellious. Once, he packed 10 of us into a Finnish bachelor's tiny home for a low-budget ski camp. We awoke the first morning to find Nikolai making breakfast and then made quick work with our spoons while sitting on makeshift chairs around a tiny card table. When we were finished, Nikolai stacked the sticky bowls in front of my sole female teammate and me, asserting, "Now, girls do dishes!"I threw my napkin on the floor and swore at him, "Ask the damn boys! This is unfair." He never asked this of me again, nor did he take much notice of my outburst. He saved his passion for skiing.When coaching, he would sing out his instructions keeping rhythm with our stride: "Yes, yes, one-two-three, one-two-three." A dear lady friend of my grandfather, after viewing a copy of a video of me training with Nikolai, asked, "Does he also teach dance?"In training, I worked without rest to correct mistakes that Nikolai pointed out and I asked after each pass if it was better."Yes, it's OK. But the faster knee down, the better.""But is it fast enough?" I'd persist.Finally he would frown and say, "Billion times you make motion—then be perfect," reminding me in an I've-told-you-a-billion-times tone, "You must be patient."Nikolai's patience and my hard work earned me a fourth-place national ranking heading into the pre-Olympic season, but then I missed the cut for the 2002 Olympics.Last summer, I returned to visit Nikolai. He made me tea... and did the dishes! We talked while sitting on his couch. Missing the Olympic Team the previous year had made me pause and reflect on what I had gained—not the least of which was a quiet, indissoluble bond with a short man in a tropical shirt.Nikolai taught me to have the courage, heart, and discipline to persist, even if it takes a billion tries. He taught me to be thankful in advance for a century of life on earth, and to remind myself every day that despite the challenges at hand, "Now must be love, love, love."Unit3Marriage Across the NationsGail and I imagined a quiet wedding. During our two years together we had experienced the usual ups and downs of a couple learning to know, understand, and respect each other. But through it all we had honestly confronted the weaknesses and strengths of each other's characters.Our racial and cultural differences enhanced our relationship and taught us a great deal about tolerance, compromise, and being open with each other. Gail sometimes wondered why I and other blacks were so involved with the racial issue, and I was surprised that she seemed to forget the subtler forms of racial hatred in American society.Gail and I had no illusions about what the future held for us as a married, mixed couple in America. The continual source of our strength was our mutual trust and respect.We wanted to avoid the mistake made by many couples of marrying for the wrong reasons, and only finding out ten, twenty, or thirty years later that they were incompatible, that they hardly took the time to know each other, that they overlooked serious personality conflicts in the expectation that marriage was an automatic way to make everything work out right. That point was emphasized by the fact that Gail's parents, after thirty-five years of marriage, were going through a bitter and painful divorce, which had destroyed Gail and for a time had a negative effect on our budding relationship.When Gail spread the news of our wedding plans to her family she met with some resistance. Her mother, Deborah, all along had been supportive of our relationship, and even joked about when we were going to get married so she could have grandchildren. Instead of congratulations upon hearing our news, Deborah counseled Gail to be really sure she was doing the right thing."So it was all right for me to date him, but it's wrong for me to marry him. Is his color the problem, Mom?" Gail subsequently told me she had asked her mother."To start with I must admit that at first I harbored reservations about a mixed marriage, prejudices you might even call them. But when I met Mark I found him a charming and intelligent young guy. Any mother would be proud to have him for a son-in-law. So,color has nothing to do with it. Yes, my friends talk. Some even express shock at what you're doing. But they live in a different world. So you see, Mark's color is not the problem. My biggest worry is that you may be marrying Mark for the same wrong reasons that I married your father. When we met I saw him as my beloved, intelligent, charming, and caring. It was all so new, all so exciting, and we both thought, on the surface at least, that ours was an ideal marriage with every indication that it would last forever. I realized only later that I didn't know my beloved, your father, very well when we married.""But Mark and I have been together more than two years," Gail railed. "We've been through so much together. We've seen each other at our worst many times. I'm sure that time will only confirm what we feel deeply about each other.""You may be right. But I still think that waiting won't hurt. You're only twenty-five."Gail's father, David, whom I had not yet met personally, approached our decision with a father-knows-best attitude. He basically asked the same questions as Gail's mother: "Why the haste? Who is this Mark? What's his citizenship status?" And when he learned of my problems with the Citizenship department, he immediately suspected that I was marrying his daughter in order to remain in the United States."But Dad, that's harsh," Gail said."Then why the rush? Buy time, buy time," he remarked repeatedly."Mark has had problems with citizenship before and has always taken care of them himself," Gail defended." In fact, he made it very clear when we were discussing marriage that if I had any doubts about anything, I should not hesitate to cancel our plans."Her father proceeded to quote statistics showing that mixed couples had higher divorce rates than couples of the same race and gave examples of mixed couples he had counseled who were having marital difficulties."Have you thought about the hardships your children would go through?" he asked."Dad, are you a racist?""No, of course not. But you have to be realistic.""Maybe our children will have some problems, but whose children don't? But one thing they'll always have: our love and devotion.""That's idealistic. People can be very cruel toward children from mixed marriages.""Dad, we'll worry about that when the time comes. If we had to resolve all doubt before we acted, very little would ever get done.""Remember, it's never too late to change your mind."Unit 4 A Test of True LoveSix minutes to six, said the digital clock over the information desk in Grand Central Station. John Blandford, a tall young army officer, focused his eyesight on the clock to note the exact time. In six minutes he would see the woman who had filled a special place in his life for the past thirteen months, a woman he had never seen, yet whose written words had been with him and had given him strength without fail.Soon after he volunteered for military service, he had received a book from this woman. A letter, which wished him courage and safety, came with the book. He discovered that many of his friends, also in the army, had received the identical book from the woman, Hollis Meynell. And while they all got strength from it, and appreciated her support of their cause, John Blandford was the only person to write Ms. Meynell back. On the day of his departure, to a destination overseas where he would fight in the war, he received her reply. Aboard the cargo ship that was taking him into enemy territory, he stood on the deck and read her letter to him again and again.For thirteen months, she had faithfully written to him. When his letters did not arrive, she wrote anyway, without decrease. During the difficult days of war, her letters nourished him and gave him courage. As long as he received letters from her, he felt as though he could survive. After a short time, he believed he loved her, and she loved him. It was as if fate had brought them together.But when he asked her for a photo, she declined his request. She explained her objection: "If your feelings for me have any reality, any honest basis, what I look like won't matter. Suppose I'm beautiful. I'd always be bothered by the feeling that you loved me for my beauty, and that kind of love would disgust me. Suppose I'm plain. Then I'd always fear you were writing to me only because you were lonely and had no one else. Either way, I would forbid myself from loving you. When you come to New York and you see me, then you can make your decision. Remember, both of us are free to stop or to go on after that—if that's what we choose..."One minute to six... Blandford's heart leaped.A young woman was coming toward him, and he felt a connection with her right away. Her figure was long and thin, her spectacular golden hair lay back in curls from her small ears. Her eyes were blue flowers; her lips had a gentle firmness. In her fancy green suit she was like springtime come alive.He started toward her, entirely forgetting to notice that she wasn't wearing a rose, and as he moved, a small, warm smile formed on her lips."Going my way, soldier?" she asked.Uncontrollably, he made one step closer to her. Then he saw Hollis Meynell.She was standing almost directly behind the girl, a woman well past forty, and a fossil to his young eyes, her hair sporting patches of gray. She was more than fat; her thick legs shook as they moved. But she wore a red rose on her brown coat.The girl in the green suit was walking quickly away and soon vanished into the fog. Blandford felt as though his heart was being compressed into a small cement ball, so strong was his desire to follow the girl, yet so deep was his longing for the woman whose spirit had truly companioned and brought warmth to his own; and there she stood. Her pale, fat face was gentle and intelligent; he could see that now. Her gray eyes had a warm, kindly look.Blandford resisted the urge to follow the younger woman, though it was not easy to do so. His fingers held the book she had sent to him before he went off to the war, which was to identify him to Hollis Meynell. This would not be love. However, it would be something precious, something perhaps even less common than love—a friendship for which he had been, and would always be, thankful.He held the book out toward the woman."I'm John Blandford, and you—you are Ms. Meynell. I'm so glad you could meet me. May I take you to dinner?" The woman smiled. "I don't know what this is all about, son," she answered. "That young lady in the green suit—the one who just went by—begged me to wear this rose on my coat. And she said that if you asked me to go out with you, I should tell you that she's waiting for you in that big restaurant near the highway. She said it was some kind of a test."Unit5 Weeping for My Smoking DaughterMy daughter smokes. While she is doing her homework, her feet on the bench in front of her and her calculator clicking out answ ers to her geometry problems, I am looking at the half-empty package of Camels tossed carelessly close at hand. I pick them up, take t hem into the kitchen, where the light is better, and study them -- they are filtered, for which I am grateful. My heart feels terrible. I wa nt to weep. In fact, I do weep a little, standing there by the stove holding one of the instruments, so white, so precisely rolled, that coul d cause my daughter's death. When she smoked Marlboros and Players I hardened myself against feeling so bad; nobody I knew ever s moked these brands.She doesn't know this, but it was Camels that my father, her grandfather, smoked. But before he smoked cigarettes made by manu facturers -- when he was very young and very poor, with glowing eyes -- he smoked Prince Albert tobacco in cigarettes he rolled hims elf. I remember the bright-red tobacco tin, with a picture of Queen Victoria's partner, Prince Albert, dressed in a black dress coat and c arrying a cane .By the late forties and early fifties no one rolled his own anymore (and few women smoked) in my hometown of Eatonton, Georg ia. The tobacco industry, coupled with Hollywood movies in which both male and female heroes smoked like chimneys, completely w on over people like my father, who were hopelessly hooked by cigarettes. He never looked as fashionable as Prince Albert, though; he continued to look like a poor, overweight, hard working colored man with too large a family, black, with a very white cigarette stuck i n his mouth.I do not remember when he started to cough. Perhaps it was unnoticeable at first, a little coughing in the morning as he lit his first cigarette upon getting out of bed. By the time I was sixteen, my daughter's age, his breath was a wheeze, embarrassing to hear; he cou ld not climb stairs without resting every third or fourth step. It was not unusual for him to cough for an hour.My father died from "the poor man's friend", pneumonia, one hard winter when his lung illnesses had left him low. I doubt he had much lung left at all, after coughing for so many years. He had so little breath that, during his last years, he was always leaning on som ething. I remembered once, at a family reunion, when my daughter was two, that my father picked her up for a minute -- long enough for me to photograph them -- but the effort was obvious. Near the very end of his life, and largely because he had no more lungs, he qu it smoking. He gained a couple of pounds, but by then he was so slim that no one noticed.When I travel to Third World countries I see many people like my father and daughter. There are large advertisement signs directe d at them both: the tough, confident or fashionable older man, the beautiful, "worldly" young woman, both dragging away. In these po or countries, as in American inner cities and on reservations, money that should be spent for food goes instead to the tobacco compani es; over time, people starve themselves of both food and air, effectively weakening and hooking their children, eventually killing them selves. I read in the newspaper and in my gardening magazine that the ends of cigarettes are so poisonous that if a baby swallows one, it is likely to die, and that the boiled water from a bunch of them makes an effective insecticide.There is a deep hurt that I feel as a mother. Some days it is a feeling of uselessness. I remember how carefully I ate when I was pr egnant, how patiently I taught my daughter how to cross a street safely. For what, I sometimes wonder; so that she can struggle to brea the through most of her life feeling half her strength, and then die of self-poisoning, as her grandfather did?There is a quotation from a battered women's shelter that I especially like: "Peace on earth begins at home." I believe everything d oes. I think of a quotation for people trying to stop smoking: "Every home is a no smoking zone." Smoking is a form of self-battering that also batters those who must sit by, occasionally joke or complain, and helplessly watch. I realize now that as a child I sat by, throu gh the years, and literally watched my father kill himself: surely one such victory in my family, for the prosperous leaders who own th e tobacco companies, is enoughUnit 6 As His Name Is, So Is He!For her first twenty-four years, she'd been known as Debbie—a name that didn't suit her good looks and elegant manner. "My name has always made me think I should be a cook," she complained. "I just don't feel like a Debbie."One day, while filling out an application form for a publishing job, the young woman impulsively substituted her middle name, Lynne, for her first name Debbie. "That was the smartest thing I ever did," she says now. "As soon as I stopped calling myself Debbie, I felt more comfortable with myself... and other people started to take me more seriously." Two years after her successful job interview, the former waitress is now a successful magazine editor. Friends and associates call her Lynne.Naturally, the name change didn't cause Debbie/Lynne's professional achievement—but it surely helped if only by adding a bit of self-confidence to her talents. Social scientists say that what you're called can affect your life. Throughout history, names have not merely identified people but also described them. "As his name is, so is he." says the Bible, and Webster's Dictionary includes the following definition of name: "a word or words expressing some quality considered characteristic or descriptive of a person or a thing, often expressing approval or disapproval". Note well "approval or disapproval". For better or worse, qualities such as friendliness or reserve, plainness or charm may be suggested by your name and conveyed to other people before they even meet you.Names become attached to specific images, as anyone who's been called "a plain Jane" or "just an average Joe" can show. The latter name particularly bothers me since my name is Joe, which some think makes me more qualified to be a baseball player than, say, an art critic. Yet, despite this disadvantage, I did manage to become an art critic for a time. Even so, one prominent magazine consistently refused to print "Joe" in my by-line, using my first initials, J. S., instead. I suspect that if I were a more refined Arthur or Adrian, the name would have appeared complete.Of course, names with a positive sense can work for you and even encourage new acquaintances. A recent survey showed that American men thought Susan to be the most attractive female name, while women believed Richard and David were the most attractive for men. One woman I know turned down a blind date with a man named Harry because "he sounded dull". Several evenings later, she came up to me at a party, pressing for an introduction to a very impressive man; they'd been exchanging glances all evening. "Oh," I said. "You mean Harry." She was ill at ease.Though most of us would like to think ourselves free from such prejudiced notions, we're all guilty of name stereotyping to some extent. Confess: Wouldn't you be surprised to meet a carpenter named Nigel? A physicist named Bertha? A Pope Mel? Often, we project name-based stereotypes on people, as one woman friend discovered while taking charge of a nursery school's group of four-year-olds. "There I was, trying to get a little active boy named Julian to sit quietly and read a book—and pushing a thoughtful creature named Rory to play ball. I had their personalities confused because of their names!"Apparently, such prejudices can affect classroom achievement as well. In a study conducted by Herbert Harari of San Diego State University, and John McDavid of Georgia State University, teachers gave consistently lower grades on essays apparently written by boys named Elmer and Hubert than they awarded to the same papers when the writers' names were given as Michael and David. However, teacher prejudice isn't the only source of classroom difference. Dr. Thomas V. Busse and Louisa Seraydarian of Temple University found those girls with names such as Linda, Diane, Barbara, Carol, and Cindy performed better on objectively graded IQ and achievement tests than did girls with less appealing names. (A companion study showed girls' popularity with their peers was also related to the popularity of their names―although the connection was less clear for boys.)Though your parents probably meant your name to last a lifetime, remember that when they picked it they'd hardly met you, and the hopes and dreams they valued when they chose it may not match yours. If your name no longer seems to fit you, don't despair; you aren't stuck with the label. Movie stars regularly change their names, and with some determination, you can, too.Unit 7 Lighten Your Load and Save Your LifeIf you often feel angry and overwhelmed, like the stress in your life is spinning out of control, then you may be hurting your heart.If you don't want to break your own heart, you need to learn to take charge of your life where you can—and recognize there are many things beyond your control.So says Dr. Robert S. Eliot, author of a new book titled From Stress to Strength: How to Lighten Your Load and Save Your Life. He's a clinical professor of medicine at the University of Nebraska.Eliot says there are people in this world that he calls "hot reactors". For these people, being tense may cause tremendous and rapid increases in their blood pressure.Eliot says researchers have found that stressed people have higher cholesterol levels, among other things. "We've done years of work in showing that excess alarm or stress chemicals can literally burst heart muscle fibers. When that happens it happens very。
新视野大学英语读写教程2Unit1课文翻译
新视野大学英语读写教程2Section A一堂难忘的英语课1如果我是唯一一个还在纠正小孩英语的家长，那么我儿子也许是对的。
对他而言，我是一个乏味的怪物：一个他不得不听其教诲的父亲，一个还沉湎于语法规则的人，对此我儿子似乎颇为反感。
2我觉得我是在最近偶遇我以前的一位学生时，才开始对这个问题认真起来的。
这个学生刚从欧洲旅游回来。
我满怀着诚挚期待，问她：“欧洲之行如何？”3她点了三四下头，绞尽脑汁，苦苦寻找恰当的词语，然后惊呼：“真是，哇！4没了。
所有希腊文明和罗马建筑的辉煌居然囊括于一个浓缩的、不完整的语句之中！我的学生以“哇！”来表示她的惊叹，我只能以摇头表达比之更强烈的忧虑。
5关于正确使用英语的能力下降的问题，有许多不同的故事。
学生的确本应该能够区分诸如their/there/they're之间的不同，或区别complimentary跟complementary之间显而易见的差异。
由于这些知识缺陷，他们承受着大部分不该承受的批评和指责，因为舆论认为他们应该学得更好。
6学生并不笨，他们只是被周围所看到和听到的语言误导了。
举例来说，杂货店的指示牌会把他们引向stationary（静止处），虽然便笺本、相册、和笔记本等真正的stationery（文具用品）并没有被钉在那儿。
朋友和亲人常宣称They've just ate。
实际上，他们应该说They've just eateno因此，批评学生不合乎情理。
7对这种缺乏语言功底而引起的负面指责应归咎于我们的学校。
学校应对英语熟练程度制定出更高的标准。
可相反，学校只教零星的语法，高级词汇更是少之又少。
还有就是，学校的年轻教师显然缺乏这些重要的语言结构方面的知识，因为他们过去也没接触过。
学校有责任教会年轻人进行有效的语言沟通，可他们并没把语言的基本框架一一准确的语法和恰当的词汇一一充分地传授给学生。
8因为语法对大多数年轻学生而言枯燥且乏味，所以我觉得讲授语法得一步一步、注重技巧地进行。
新视野大学英语读写教程2 Unit1 课文翻译
新视野大学英语读写教程2Section A一堂难忘的英语课1 如果我是唯一一个还在纠正小孩英语的家长，那么我儿子也许是对的。
对他而言，我是一个乏味的怪物：一个他不得不听其教诲的父亲，一个还沉湎于语法规则的人，对此我儿子似乎颇为反感。
2 我觉得我是在最近偶遇我以前的一位学生时，才开始对这个问题认真起来的。
这个学生刚从欧洲旅游回来。
我满怀着诚挚期待，问她：“欧洲之行如何？”3 她点了三四下头，绞尽脑汁，苦苦寻找恰当的词语，然后惊呼：“真是，哇！4 没了。
所有希腊文明和罗马建筑的辉煌居然囊括于一个浓缩的、不完整的语句之中！我的学生以“哇！”来表示她的惊叹，我只能以摇头表达比之更强烈的忧虑。
5 关于正确使用英语的能力下降的问题，有许多不同的故事。
学生的确本应该能够区分诸如their / there / they’re 之间的不同，或区别complimentary 跟complementary之间显而易见的差异。
由于这些知识缺陷，他们承受着大部分不该承受的批评和指责，因为舆论认为他们应该学得更好。
6 学生并不笨，他们只是被周围所看到和听到的语言误导了。
举例来说，杂货店的指示牌会把他们引向stationary（静止处），虽然便笺本、相册、和笔记本等真正的stationery (文具用品) 并没有被钉在那儿。
朋友和亲人常宣称They’ve just ate。
实际上，他们应该说They’ve just eaten。
因此，批评学生不合乎情理。
7 对这种缺乏语言功底而引起的负面指责应归咎于我们的学校。
学校应对英语熟练程度制定出更高的标准。
可相反，学校只教零星的语法，高级词汇更是少之又少。
还有就是，学校的年轻教师显然缺乏这些重要的语言结构方面的知识，因为他们过去也没接触过。
学校有责任教会年轻人进行有效的语言沟通，可他们并没把语言的基本框架——准确的语法和恰当的词汇——充分地传授给学生。
8 因为语法对大多数年轻学生而言枯燥且乏味，所以我觉得讲授语法得一步一步、注重技巧地进行。
新视野大学英语1读写课文对照翻译
新视野大学英语1读写课文对照翻译Unit 1 Section AToward a brighter future for allPara.1. Good afternoon! As president of the university, I am proud to welcome you to this university. Your achievement is the triumph of years of hard work, both of your own and of your parents and teachers. Here at the university, we pledge to make your educational experience as rewarding as possible.下午好！作为校长，我非常自豪地欢迎你们来到这所大学。
你们所取得的成就是你们自己多年努力的结果，也是你们的父母和老师们多年努力的结果。
在这所大学里，我们承诺将使你们学有所成。
Para.2 In welcoming you to the university, I am reminded of my own high school graduation and the photograph my mom took of my dad and me. "Pose naturally," Mom instructed us. "Wait!" said Dad, "Let's take a picture of me handing him an alarm clock." The clock woke me up every morning in college. It is still on my office desk.在欢迎你们到来的这一刻，我想起自己高中毕业时的情景，还有妈妈为我和爸爸拍的合影。
新视野大学英语第二版读写教程第一册答案(unit1-10)(含翻译)
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新视野大学英语读写教程(第二版)第一册课文原文
新视野大学英语读写教程(第二版)第一册课文原文A\B及翻译.Unit 1Learning a Foreign LanguageP1Learning a foreign language was one of the most difficult yet most rewarding experiences of my life. Although at times, learning a language was frustrating, it was well worth the effort.P2 My experience with a foreign language began in junior middle school, when I took my first English class. I had a kind and patient teacher who often praised all of the students. Because of this positive method, I eagerly answered all the questions I could, never worrying much about making mistakes. I was at the top of my class for two years.P3When I went to senior middle school, I was eager to continue studying English; however, my experience in senior school was very different from before. While my former teacher had been patient with all the students, my new teacher quickly punished those who gave incorrect answers. Whenever we answered incorrectly, she pointed a long stick at us and, shaking it up and down, shouted, "No! No! No!" It didn't take me long to lose my eagerness to answer questions. Not only did I lose my joy in answering questions, but also I totally lost my desire to say anything at all in English.P4However, that state didn't last long. When I went to college, I learned that all students were required to take an English course. Unlike my senior middle school teacher, my college English teachers were patient and kind, and none of them carried long, pointed sticks! However, the situation was far from perfect. As our classes were very large, I was only able to answer a couple of questions in each class period. Also, after a few weeks of classes, I noticed there were many students who spoke much better than I did. I began to feel intimidated. So, once again, although for different reasons, I was afraid to speak. It seemed my English was going to stay at the same level forever.P5That was the situation until a couple of years later, when I was offered an opportunity to study English through an online course. The communication medium was a computer, phone line, and modem. I soon got access to the necessary equipment, learned the technology from a friend and participated in the virtual classroom 5 to 7 days a week.P6Online learning is not easier than regular classroom study; it requires much time, commitment and discipline to keep up with the flow of the course. I worked hard to meet the minimum standards set by the course and to complete assignments on time.P7 I practiced all the time. I carried a little dictionary with me everywhere I went, as well as a notebook in which I listed any new words I heard. I made many, sometimes embarrassing, mistakes. Once in a while I cried with frustration, and sometimes I felt like giving up. But I didn't feel intimidated by students who spoke faster than I did because I took all the time I needed to think out my ideas and wrote a reply before posting it on the screen. Then, one day I realized I could understand just about everything I came across, and most importantly, I could "say" anything I wanted to in English. Although I still made many mistakes and was continually learning, I had finally reaped the benefits of all that hard work.P8 Learning a foreign language has been a most trying experience for me, but one that I wouldn't trade for anything. Not only did learning another language teach me the value of hard work, but it also gave me insights into another culture, and my mind was opened to new ways of seeing things. The most wonderful result of having learned a foreign language was that I could communicate with many more people than before. Talking with people is one of my favorite activities, so being able to speak a new language lets me meet new people, participate in conversations, and form new, unforgettable friendships. Now that I speak a foreign language, instead of staring into space when English is being spoken, I can participate and make friends. I am able to reach out to others and bridge the gap between my language and culture and theirs.学习外语是我一生中最艰苦也是最有意义的经历之一。
新视野大学英语读写教程2 Unit1 课文翻译
新视野大学英语读写教程2Section A一堂难忘的英语课1 如果我是唯一一个还在纠正小孩英语的家长，那么我儿子也许是对的。
对他而言，我是一个乏味的怪物：一个他不得不听其教诲的父亲，一个还沉湎于语法规则的人，对此我儿子似乎颇为反感。
2 我觉得我是在最近偶遇我以前的一位学生时，才开始对这个问题认真起来的。
这个学生刚从欧洲旅游回来。
我满怀着诚挚期待，问她：“欧洲之行如何？”3 她点了三四下头，绞尽脑汁，苦苦寻找恰当的词语，然后惊呼：“真是，哇！4 没了。
所有希腊文明和罗马建筑的辉煌居然囊括于一个浓缩的、不完整的语句之中！我的学生以“哇！”来表示她的惊叹，我只能以摇头表达比之更强烈的忧虑。
5 关于正确使用英语的能力下降的问题，有许多不同的故事。
学生的确本应该能够区分诸如their / there / they’re 之间的不同，或区别complimentary 跟complementary之间显而易见的差异。
由于这些知识缺陷，他们承受着大部分不该承受的批评和指责，因为舆论认为他们应该学得更好。
6 学生并不笨，他们只是被周围所看到和听到的语言误导了。
举例来说，杂货店的指示牌会把他们引向stationary（静止处），虽然便笺本、相册、和笔记本等真正的stationery (文具用品) 并没有被钉在那儿。
朋友和亲人常宣称They’ve just ate。
实际上，他们应该说They’ve just eaten。
因此，批评学生不合乎情理。
7 对这种缺乏语言功底而引起的负面指责应归咎于我们的学校。
学校应对英语熟练程度制定出更高的标准。
可相反，学校只教零星的语法，高级词汇更是少之又少。
还有就是，学校的年轻教师显然缺乏这些重要的语言结构方面的知识，因为他们过去也没接触过。
学校有责任教会年轻人进行有效的语言沟通，可他们并没把语言的基本框架——准确的语法和恰当的词汇——充分地传授给学生。
8 因为语法对大多数年轻学生而言枯燥且乏味，所以我觉得讲授语法得一步一步、注重技巧地进行。
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Unit 1 Section A 时间观念强的美国人
Para. 1 美国人认为没有人能停止不前。
如果你不求进取，你就会落伍。
这种态度造就了一个投身于研究、实验和探索的民族。
时间是美国人注意节约的两个要素之一，另一个是劳力。
Para. 2 人们一直说：“只有时间才能支配我们。
”人们似乎是把时间当作一个差不多是实实在在的东西来对待的。
我们安排时间、节约时间、浪费时间、挤抢时间、消磨时间、缩减时间、对时间的利用作出解释；我们还要因付出时间而收取费用。
时间是一种宝贵的资源，许多人都深感人生的短暂。
时光一去不复返。
我们应当让每一分钟都过得有意义。
Para. 3 外国人对美国的第一印象很可能是：每个人都匆匆忙忙——常常处于压力之下。
城里人看上去总是在匆匆地赶往他们要去的地方，在商店里他们焦躁不安地指望店员能马上来为他们服务，或者为了赶快买完东西，用肘来推搡他人。
白天吃饭时人们也都匆匆忙忙，这部分地反映出这个国家的生活节奏。
工作时间被认为是宝贵的。
Para. 3b 在公共用餐场所，人们都等着别人吃完后用餐，以便按时赶回去工作。
你还会发现司机开车很鲁莽，人们推搡着在你身边过去。
你会怀念微笑、简短的交谈以及与陌生人的随意闲聊。
不要觉得这是针对你个人的，这是因为人们非常珍惜时间，而且也不喜欢他人“浪费”时间到不恰当的地步。
Para. 4 许多刚到美国的人会怀念诸如商务拜访等场合开始时的寒暄。
他们也会怀念那种一边喝茶或咖啡一边进行的礼节性交流，这也许是他们自己国家的一种习俗。
他们也许还会怀念在饭店或咖啡馆里谈生意时的那种轻松悠闲的交谈。
一般说来，美国人是不会在如此轻松的环境里通过长时间的闲聊来评价他们的客人的，更不用说会在增进相互间信任的过程中带他们出去吃饭，或带他们去打高尔夫球。
既然我们通常是通过工作而不是社交来评估和了解他人，我们就开门见山地谈正事。
因此，时间老是在我们心中的耳朵里滴滴答答地响着。
Para. 5 因此，我们千方百计地节约时间。
我们发明了一系列节省劳力的装置；我们通过发传真、打电话或发电子邮件与他人迅速地进行交流，而不是通过直接接触。
虽然面对面接触令人愉快，但却要花更多的时间, 尤其是在马路上交通拥挤的时候。
因此，我们把大多数个人拜访安排在下班以后的时间里或周末的社交聚会上。
Para. 6 就我们而言，电子交流的缺乏人情味与我们手头上事情的重要性之间很少有或完全没有关系。
在有些国家, 如果没有目光接触，就做不成大生意，这需要面对面的交谈。
在美国，最后协议通常也需要本人签字。
然而现在人们越来越多地在电视屏幕上见面，开远程会议不仅能解决本国的问题，而且还能通过卫星解决国际问题。
Para. 7 美国无疑是一个电话王国。
几乎每个人都在用电话做生意、与朋友聊天、安排或取消社交约会、表达谢意、购物和获得各种信息。
电话不但能免去走路之劳，而且还能节约大量时间。
其部分原因在于这样一个事实：美国的电话服务是一流的，而邮政服务的效率则差一些。
Para. 8 有些初来美国的人来自其他文化背景不同的国家，在他们的国家，人们认为工作太快是一种失礼。
在他们看来，如果不花一定时间来处理某件事的话，那么这件事就好像是无足轻重的，不值得给予适当的重视。
因此, 人们觉得用的时间长会增加所做事情的重要性。
但在美国，能迅速而又成功地解决问题或完成工作则被视为是有水平、有能力的标志。
通常，工作越重要，投入的资金、精力和注意力就越多，其目的是“使工作开展起来”。
Unite 1 section B 文化冲击
Para. 1 你认为在异国留学是一件听上去非常令人兴奋的事情吗? 会像许多离家去另一个国家学习的年轻人一样感觉很有趣吗? 这当然是一种崭新的经历，它会给你带来机会，让你发现许多迷人的东西，获得一种自由感。
然而，尽管有这些好处，你也会遇到挑战。
因为你的观点可能会与存在于不同国家的不同信念、准则、价值观念和传统发生冲突。
你也许会感到很难去适应一种新的文化以及该文化中你不熟悉的那些部分。
这就是“文化冲击”。
人们经历文化冲击
的过程至少包括四个主要阶段。
Para. 2 第一阶段叫做“蜜月期”。
在这一阶段，你会感觉到生活在一个不同国度里很兴奋，而且每一样东西看上去都妙不可言。
你什么都喜欢，而且好像每个人都对你很好。
另外，新的文化中的生活乐趣好像是无穷无尽的。
Para. 3 然而，文化冲击的第二阶段终究会出现，这就是“敌对期”。
你开始注意到并不是每样东西都像你原先认为的那样好。
你会对新的文化里的许多东西感到厌倦。
此外，人们也不再把你当作一个客人来对待了。
所有最初看上去非常美好的东西现在变得让人讨厌了，而且每一样东西都使你感到苦恼和厌倦。
Para. 4 通常，在你适应一种新文化的这一阶段中，你会想出一些防卫性的办法来帮助你应付难关，保护自己免受文化冲击的影响。
其中一种办法叫做“压抑法”。
当你假装所有的东西都可以接受，没有什么东西令你感到烦恼的时候，你就是在运用压抑法。
另一种防卫性办法称做“倒退法”。
当你的行为举止开始显得比你实际年龄要小的时候，你就是在运用这种办法。
这时，你的行为举止像一个小孩。
你把什么都忘掉了，而且有时你会变得粗心大意，不负责任。
第三种防卫性办法叫做“孤立法”。
你宁可一个人呆在家里，不想和任何人交流。
你想把自己封闭起来以避免文化冲击的影响，至少你是这样认为的。
孤立法也许是人们用来对付文化
冲击的最糟糕的办法之一，因为你把那些能真正帮助你的东西和你隔离开来了。
最后一种防卫性办法叫做“排斥法”。
这一办法让你觉得自己不需要任何人帮助。
你觉得你可以独自把事情处理好，所以你就不想求助于人。
Para. 5 你在敌意阶段使用的这些办法并不能解决问题。
如果你仅仅是偶尔运用一下其中一个应付办法来帮助你生存下去，这也无妨。
但是你必须谨慎。
这些办法可能会真的使你受到伤害，因为它们会阻碍你对新的文化作出必要的调整。
Para. 6 在克服了自己的敌对情绪后，你就会开始认识到文化冲击的短暂性。
然后你就会步入被称为“恢复期”的第三阶段。
在这个阶段，你会开始变得积极起来，而且你会努力去理解所有你不理解的东西。
整个形势开始变得对你有利了，你会从前面两个阶段出现的症状中恢复过来。
而且你开始使自己适应新的准则、新的价值观念，乃至这个新的国家的各种信念和传统。
你开始明白，虽然这种新的文化的特点和你自己国家的文化特点有所不同，但其中也必定有值得你学习和欣赏的东西。
Para. 7 文化冲击的最后一个阶段被称为“适应期”。
在这个阶段，你真正达到了感觉良好的境界，因为你已经学到了很多东西, 已经能理解这种新的文化了。
最初使你感到不舒服或陌生的东西，现在已成了你能理解的东西。
这种理解会
减轻你的许多压力。
现在你感到自在了，你已经适应了新的文化。