现代大学英语阅读2_text_1_图文
现代大学英语(第二版)精读2第一课讲解
Another School Year – What for?John CiardiText AppreciationI.Text Analysis1.Theme2.Structure3.DiscussionII.Writing Devicesnguage Style & Tone2.MetaphorIII.Sentence ParaphraseText AnalysisThemeThe author tries to clarify the purpose of a university: to put the students in touch with the best civilization that human race has created.StructurePart 1 (Paras. 1—8 Part 2 (Paras.9—14):The writer describes hisencounter with one of hisstudents.):The author restates what he still believes to be the purpose of a university: putting its students in touch with the best civilizations the human race has created.Text AnalysisSentence Paraphrase•Let me tell you one of the earliest disasters in my career as a teacher.(Para. 1)•Let me tell you something that happened when I first became a teacher. It was one of the exasperating experiences in the first days of my teaching career.•The word “disaster” often means “an unexpected event, such as a very bad accident, a flood or a fire that kills a lot of people or causes a lot of damage”. Here, used informally, it means "a complete failure". The writer exaggerates the situation and uses the word humorously.Sentence Paraphrase… I was fresh out of graduate school starting my first semester at the University of Kansas City. (Para. 1)to have just come from aparticular place, to havejust had a particularexperience, e.g. studentsfresh from college… I had just completed my graduate studies and began teaching at the University of Kansas City.•Part of the student body was a beanpole with hair on top who came into my class, sat down, folded his arms, and looked at me as if to say "All right, teach me something.” (Para.1)•The sentence tells us what an unfavorable impression the student left on the writer the first day he came to class. First, he was referred to as “a beanpole with hair on top” (顶上长了毛、种豆角时用的长竿）.Also, his manners irritated the writer: instead of listening attentively and taking notes, he behaved as if he had paid to watch a show of some sort and was waiting to be entertained.•The word "beanpole“ means "a tall thin person"，Here the writer deliberately evokes a "bean pole”, a pole farmers use as a support in growing beans.••part of the student body: one of the students•the student body: all the students of the university•body: a group of people who work or act together, often for an official purpose, or who are connected in some other way, e. g.– a law-making body 工法机构–the governing body of the university 大学管理机构Sentence Paraphrase•Two weeks later we started Hamlet.(Para.1)•Obviously, the writer was teaching a course on Shakespeare. In such a course, generally five of Shakespeare's plays are studied. Hamlet generally included.Sentence Paraphrase•Three weeks later he came into my office with his hands on his hips. “Look,” he said, "I came here to be a pharmacist. Why do I have to read this stuff?“ (1)•with his hands on his hips: This shows that the student wasn‘t carrying anything, and what’s more, this business-minded young man came to challenge his instructor, like a customer questioning the goods or service they have bought.Sentence Paraphrase•New as I was to the faculty, I could have told this specimen a number of things·(2)•Though I was a new teacher, I knew I could tell him what "university w as for. But I didn't. (我虽然经验不多) 也讲得出这些道埋(但我没有讲)。
Book II 2 现代大学英语课件
The chairman’s speech served only to fog the issue.
Structure: leave + n. + v.-ed / + v. -ing / adj. / prep. phrase
5. Lovable: upset, scatter, poke, wait for things to quiet down 6. restless, with his nose to the sky, turning his head this way and
that, check the wind; sit still, ears pointed, alert, listen, raise his muzzle, stir, a deep rumble of pleasure, slip down the rock, head out across the ice
in search of field mice; winter months, make a fire, tell stories 4. half grown, puppy-wool coat gone, handsome black mantle;
mischievous/naughty, curious, bloody;
Lesson II
Maheegun My Brother
2020/7/3
6. Did the boy suffer when Maheegun left him for the she-wolf? tell oneself: all for the best, hard to lose my brother
现代大学英语精读2课文
Unit1Another School Year — What ForLet me tell you one of the earliest disasters in my career as a teacher. It was January of 1940 and I was fresh out of graduate school starting my first semester at the University of Kansas City. Part of the student body was a beanpole with hair on top who came into my class, sat down, folded his arms, and looked at me as if to say "All right, teach me something." Two weeks later we started Hamlet. Three weeks later he came into my office with his hands on his hips. "Look," he said, "I came here to be a pharmacist. Why do I have to read this stuff" And not having a book of his own to point to, he pointed to mine which was lying on the desk.New as I was to the faculty, I could have told this specimen a number of things. I could have pointed out that he had enrolled, not in a drugstore-mechanics school, but in a college and that at the end of his course meant to reach for a scroll that read Bachelor of Science. It would not read: Qualified Pill-Grinding Technician. It would certify that he had specialized in pharmacy, but it would further certify that he had been exposed to some of the ideas mankind has generated within its history. That is to say, he had not entered a technical training school but a university and in universities students enroll for both training and education.I could have told him all this, but it was fairly obvious he wasn't going to be around long enough for it to matter. Nevertheless, I was young and I had a high sense of duty and I tried to put it this way: "For the rest of your life," I said, "your days are going to average out to about twenty-four hours. They will be a little shorter when you are in love, and a little longer when you are out of love, but the average will tend to hold. For eight of these hours, more or less, you will be asleep.""Then for about eight hours of each working day you will, I hope, be usefully employed. Assume you have gone through pharmacy school —or engineering, or law school, or whatever — during those eight hours you will be using your professional skills. You will see to it that the cyanide stays out of the aspirin, that the bull doesn't jump the fence, or that your client doesn't go to the electric chair as a result of your incompetence. These are all useful pursuits. They involve skills every man must respect, and they can all bring you basic satisfactions. Along with everything else, they will probably be what puts food on your table, supports your wife, and rears your children. They will be your income, and may it always suffice.""But having finished the day's work, what do you do with those other eight hours Let's say you go home to your family. What sort of family are you raising Will the children ever be exposed to a reasonably penetratingidea at home Will you be presiding over a family that maintains some contact with the great democratic intellect Will there be a book in the house Will there be a painting a reasonably sensitive man can look at without shuddering Will the kids ever get to hear Bach"That is about what I said, but this particular pest was not interested. "Look," he said, "you professors raise your kids your way; I'll take care of my own. Me, I'm out to make money.""I hope you make a lot of it," I told him, "because you're going to be badly stuck for something to do when you're not signing checks." Fourteen years later I am still teaching, and I am here to tell you that the business of the college is not only to train you, but to put you in touch with what the best human minds have thought. If you have no time for Shakespeare, for a basic look at philosophy, for the continuity of the fine arts, for that lesson of man's development we call history —then you have no business being in college. You are on your way to being that new species of mechanized savage, the push-button Neanderthal. Our colleges inevitably graduate a number of such life forms, but it cannot be said that they went to college; rather the college went through them —without making contact.No one gets to be a human being unaided. There is not time enough in a single lifetime to invent for oneself everything one needs to know inorder to be a civilized human.Assume, for example, that you want to be a physicist. You pass the great stone halls of, say, M. I. T., and there cut into the stone are the names of the scientists. The chances are that few, if any, of you will leave your names to be cut into those stones. Yet any of you who managed to stay awake through part of a high school course in physics, knows more about physics than did many of those great scholars of the past. You know more because they left you what they knew, because you can start from what the past learned for you.And as this is true of the techniques of mankind, so it is true of mankind's spiritual resources. Most of these resources, both technical and spiritual, are stored in books. Books are man's peculiar accomplishment. When you have read a book, you have added to your human experience. Read Homer and your mind includes a piece of Homer's mind. Through books you can acquire at least fragments of the mind and experience of Virgil, Dante, Shakespeare — the list is endless. For a great book is necessarily a gift; it offers you a life you have not the time to live yourself, and it takes you into a world you have not the time to travel in literal time. A civilized mind is, in essence, one that contains many such lives and many such worlds. If you are too much in a hurry, or too arrogantly proud of your own limitations, to accept as a gift to your humanity some pieces of the minds of Aristotle, or Chaucer, or Einstein, you are neither a developed human nor a useful citizen of a democracy.I think it was La Rochefoucauld who said that most people would never fall in love if they hadn't read about it. He might have said that no one would ever manage to become human if they hadn't read about it.I speak, I'm sure, for the faculty of the liberal arts college and for the faculties of the specialized schools as well, when I say that a university has no real existence and no real purpose except as it succeeds in putting you in touch, both as specialists and as humans, with those human minds your human mind needs to include. The faculty, by its very existence, says implicitly: "We have been aided by many people, and by many books, in our attempt to make ourselves some sort of storehouse of human experience. We are here to make available to you, as best we can, that expertise."Unit2Maheegun My BrotherThe year I found Maheegun, spring was late in coming. That day, I was spearing fish with my grandfather when I heard the faint crying and found the shivering wolf cub.As I bent down, he moved weakly toward me. I picked him up and put him inside my jacket. Little Maheegun gained strength after I got the first few drops of warm milk in him. He wiggled and soon he was full andwarm.My grandfather finally agreed to let me keep him.That year, which was my 14th, was the happiest of my life.Not that we didn't have our troubles. Maheegun was the most mischievous wolf cub ever. He was curious too. Like looking into Grandma's sewing basket —which he upset, scattering thread and buttons all over the floor. At such times, she would chase him out with a broom and Maheegun would poke his head around the corner, waiting for things to quiet down.That summer Maheegun and I became hunting partners. We hunted the grasshoppers that leaped about like little rockets. And in the fall, after the first snow our games took us to the nearest meadows in search of field mice. By then, Maheegun was half grown. Gone was the puppy-wool coat. In its place was a handsome black mantle.The winter months that came soon after were the happiest I could remember. They belonged only to Maheegun and myself. Often we would make a fire in the bushes. Maheegun would lay his head between his front paws, with his eyes on me as I told him stories.It all served to fog my mind with pleasure so that I forgot my Grandpa's repeated warnings, and one night left Maheegun unchained. The following morning in sailed Mrs. Yesno, wild with anger, who demanded Maheegun be shot because he had killed her rooster. The next morning,my grandpa announced that we were going to take Maheegun to thenorth shack.By the time we reached the lake where the trapper's shack stood, Maheegun seemed to have become restless. Often he would sit with his nose to the sky, turning his head this way and that as if to check the wind. The warmth of the stove soon brought sleep to me. But something caused me to wake up with a start. I sat up, and in the moon-flooded cabin was my grandfather standing beside me. "Come and see, son," whispered my grandfather.Outside the moon was full and the world looked all white with snow. He pointed to a rock that stood high at the edge of the lake. On the top was the clear outline of a great wolf sitting still, ears pointed, alert, listening. "Maheegun," whispered my grandfather.Slowly the wolf raised his muzzle. "Oooo-oo-wow-wowoo-oooo!"The whole white world thrilled to that wild cry. Then after a while, from the distance came a softer call in reply. Maheegun stirred, with the deep rumble of pleasure in his throat. He slipped down the rock and headed out across the ice."He's gone," I said."Yes, he's gone to that young she-wolf." My grandfather slowly filled his pipe. "He will take her for life, hunt for her, protect her. This is the way the Creator planned life. No man can change it."I tried to tell myself it was all for the best, but it was hard to lose mybrother.For the next two years I was as busy as a squirrel storing nuts for the winter. But once or twice when I heard wolf cries from distant hills, I would still wonder if Maheegun, in his battle for life, found time to remember me.It was not long after that I found the answer.Easter came early that year and during the holidays I went to visit my cousins.My uncle was to bring me home in his truck. But he was detained by some urgent business. So I decided to come back home on my own.A mile down the road I slipped into my snowshoes and turned into the bush. The strong sunshine had dimmed. I had not gone far before big flakes of snow began drifting down.The snow thickened fast. I could not locate the tall pine that stood on the north slope of Little Mountain. I circled to my right and stumbled into a snow-filled creek bed. By then the snow had made a blanket of white darkness, but I knew only too well there should have been no creek there.I tried to travel west but only to hit the creek again. I knew I had gone ina great circle and I was lost.There was only one thing to do. Camp for the night and hope that by morning the storm would have blown itself out. I quickly made a bed ofboughs and started a fire with the bark of an old dead birch. The first night I was comfortable enough. But when the first gray light came I realized that I was in deep trouble. The storm was even worse. Everything had been smothered by the fierce whiteness. The light of another day still saw no end to the storm. I began to get confused. I couldn't recall whether it had been storming for three or four days.Then came the clear dawn. A great white stillness had taken over and with it, biting cold. My supply of wood was almost gone. There must be more.Slashing off green branches with my knife, I cut my hand and blood spurted freely from my wound. It was some time before the bleeding stopped. I wrapped my hand with a piece of cloth I tore off from my shirt. After some time, my fingers grew cold and numb, so I took the bandage off and threw it away.How long I squatted over my dying fire I don't know. But then I saw the gray shadow between the trees. It was a timber wolf. He had followed the blood spots on the snow to the blood-soaked bandage. "Yap... yap... yap... yoooo!" The howl seemed to freeze the world with fear.It was the food cry. He was calling, "Come, brothers, I have found meat." And I was the meat!Soon his hunting partner came to join him. Any time now, I thought, their teeth would pierce my bones.Suddenly the world exploded in snarls. I was thrown against the branches of the shelter. But I felt no pain. And a great silence had come. Slowly I worked my way out of the snow and raised my head. There, about 50 feet away, crouched my two attackers with their tails between their legs. Then I heard a noise to my side and turned my head. There stood a giant black wolf. It was Maheegun, and he had driven off the others."Maheegun... Maheegun...," I sobbed, as I moved through the snow toward him. "My brother, my brother," I said, giving him my hand. He reached out and licked at the dried blood.I got my little fire going again, and as I squatted by it, I started to cry. Maybe it was relief or weakness or both —I don't know. Maheegun whimpered too.Maheegun stayed with me through the long night, watching me with those big eyes. The cold and loss of blood were taking their toll.The sun was midway across the sky when I noticed how restless Maheegun had become. He would run away a few paces —head up, listening — then run back to me. Then I heard. It was dogs. It was the searching party! I put the last of my birch bark on the fire and fanned itinto life.The sound of the dogs grew louder. Then the voices of men. Suddenly, as if by magic, the police dog team came up out of the creek bed, and a man came running toward my fire. It was my grandfather.The old hunter stopped suddenly when he saw the wolf. He raised his rifle. "Don't shoot!" I screamed and ran toward him, falling through the snow. "It's Maheegun. Don't shoot!"He lowered his rifle. Then I fell forward on my face, into the snow.I woke up in my bedroom. It was quite some time before my eyes came into focus enough to see my grandfather sitting by my bed."You have slept three days," he said softly. "The doc says you will be all right in a week or two.""And Maheegun" I asked weakly."He should be fine. He is with his own kind."Unit3More Crime and Less PunishmentIf you are looking for an explanation of why we don't get tough with criminals, you need only look at the numbers. Each year almost a third of the households in America are victims of violence or theft. This amounts to more than 41 million crimes, many more than we are able to punish. There are also too many criminals. The best estimates suggest that 36million to 40 million people (16 to 18 percent of the U. S. population)have arrest records for nontraffic offenses. We already have 2. 4 million people under some form of correctional supervision, 412, 000 of them locked away in a prison cell. We don't have room for any more!The painful fact is that the more crime there is the less we are able to punish it. This is why the certainty and severity of punishment must go down when the crime rate goes up. Countries like Saudi Arabia can afford to give out harsh punishments precisely because they have so little crime. But can we afford to cut off the hands of those who committed more than 35 million property crimes each year Can we send them to prison Can we execute more than 22,000 murderersWe need to think about the relationship between punishment and crime in a new way. A decade of careful research has failed to provide clear and convincing evidence that the threat of punishment reduces crime. We think that punishment deters crime, but it just might be the other way around. It just might be that crime deters punishment: that there is so much crime that it simply cannot be punished.This is the situation we find ourselves in today. Just as the decline in the number of high-school graduates has made it easier to gain admission to the college of one's choice, the gradual increase in the criminal population has made it more difficult to get into prison. While elite colleges and universities still have high standards of admissions, some ofthe most "exclusive" prisons now require about five prior serious crimesbefore an inmate is accepted into their correctional program. Our current crop of prisoners is an elite group, on the whole much more serious offenders than those who were once imprisoned in Alcatraz.These features show that it makes little sense to blame the police, judges or correctional personnel for being soft on criminals. There is not much else they can do. The police can't find most criminals and those they do find are difficult and costly to convict. Those convicted can't all be sent to prison. The society demands that we do everything we can against crime. The practical reality is that there is very little the police, courts or prisons can do about the crime problem. The criminal justice system must then become as powerless as a parent who has charge of hundreds of teenage children and who is nonetheless expected to answer the TV message: "It's 10 o'clock! Do you know where your children are"A few statistics from the Justice Department's recent "Report to the Nation on Crime and Justice" illustrate my point. Of every 100 serious crimes committed in America, only 33 are actually reported to the police. Of the 33 reported, about six lead to arrest. Of the six arrested, only three are prosecuted and convicted. The others are rejected or dismissed due to evidence or witness problems or are sent elsewhere for medical treatment instead of punishment. Of the three convicted, only one is sent to prison. The other two are allowed to live in their communityunder supervision. Of the select few sent to prison, more than halfreceive a maximum sentence of five years. The average inmate, however, leaves prison in about two years. Most prisoners gain early release not because parole boards are too easy on crime, but because it is much cheaper to supervise a criminal in the community. And, of course, prison officials must make room for the new prisoners sent almost daily from the courts.We could, of course, get tough with the people we already have in prison and keep them locked up for longer periods of time. Yet when measured against the lower crime rates this would probably produce, longer prison sentences are not worth the cost to state and local governments. Besides, those states that have tried to gain voters' approval for bonds to build new prisons often discover that the public is unwilling to pay for prison construction.And if it were willing to pay, long prison sentences may not be effective in reducing crime. In 1981, 124,000 convicts were released from prison. If we had kept them in jail for an additional year, how many crimes would have been prevented While it is not possible to know the true amount of crime committed by people released from prison in any given year, we do know the extent to which those under parole are jailed again for major crime convictions. This number is a surprisingly low 6 percent (after three years it rises to only 11 percent). Even if released prisoners commit an average of two crimes each, this would amount to only15,000 crimes prevented: a drop in the bucket when measured against the 41 million crimes committed each year.More time spent in prison is also more expensive. The best estimates are that it costs an average of $13,000 to keep a person in prison for one year. If we had a place to keep the 124,000 released prisoners, it would have cost us $1.6 billion to prevent 15,000 crimes. This works out to more than $100,000 per crime prevented. But there is more. With the average cost of prison construction running around $50,000 per bed, it would cost more than $6 billion to build the necessary cells. The first-year operating cost would be $150,000 per crime prevented, worth it if the victim were you or me, but much too expensive to be feasible as a national policy.Faced with the reality of the numbers, I will not be so foolish as to suggest a solution to the crime problem. My contribution to the public debate begins and ends with this simple observation: getting tough with criminals is not the answer.Unit4The Nightingale and the Rose"She said that she would dance with me if I brought her red roses," cried the young Student, "but in all my garden there is no red rose."From her nest in the oak tree the Nightingale heard him and she looked out through the leaves and wondered."No red rose in all my garden!" he cried, and his beautiful eyes filled with tears. "Ah, I have read all that the wise men have written, and all the secrets of philosophy are mine, yet for want of a red rose my life is made wretched.""Here at last is a true lover," said the Nightingale. "Night after night have I sung of him, and now I see him."The Prince gives a ball tomorrow night," murmured the young Student, "and my love will be there. If I bring her a red rose she will dance with me till dawn. I shall hold her in my arms, and she will lean her head upon my shoulder. But there is no red rose in my garden, so I shall sit lonely and my heart will break.""Here, indeed, is the true lover," said the Nightingale. Surely love is a wonderful thing. It is more precious than emeralds and opals."The musicians will play upon their stringed instruments," said the young Student, "and my love will dance to the sound of the harp and the violin. She will dance so lightly that her feet will not touch the floor. But with me she will not dance, for I have no red rose to give her," and he flung himself down on the grass, and buried his face in his hands, and wept. "Why is he weeping" asked a green Lizard, as he ran past him with his tailin the air."Why, indeed" said a Butterfly, who was fluttering about after a sunbeam. "Why, indeed" whispered a Daisy to his neighbor, in a soft, low voice. "He is weeping for a red rose," said the Nightingale."For a red rose" they cried, "how very ridiculous!" and the little Lizard, who was something of a cynic, laughed outright. But the Nightingale understood the Student's sorrow, and sat silent in the Oak-tree. Suddenly she spread her brown wings for flight, and soared into the air. She passed through the grove like a shadow and like a shadow she sailed across the garden.In the centre of the grass-plot stood a beautiful Rose-tree, and when she saw it she flew over to it. "Give me a red rose," she cried, "and I will sing you my sweetest song."But the Tree shook its head."My roses are white," it answered, "as white as the foam of the sea, and whiter than the snow upon the mountain. But go to my brother who grows round the old sun-dial, and perhaps he will give you what you want."So the Nightingale flew over to the Rose-tree that was growing round the old sun-dial."Give me a red rose," she cried, "and I will sing you my sweetest song." But the Tree shook its head."My roses are yellow," it answered, "as yellow as the hair of the mermaiden, and yellower than the daffodil that blooms In the meadow. But go to my brother who grows beneath the Student's window, and perhaps he will give you what you want."So the Nightingale flew over to the Rose-tree that was growing beneath the Student's window."Give me a red rose," she cried, "and I will sing you my sweetest song." But the Tree shook its head."My roses are red," it answered, "as red as the feet of the dove, and redder than the great fans of coral. But the winter has chilled my veins, and the frost has nipped my buds, and the storm has broken my branches, and I shall have no roses at all this year.""One red rose is all that I want," cried the Nightingale, "only one red rose! Is there no way by which I can get it""There is a way," answered the Tree, "but it is so terrible that I dare not tell it to you.""Tell it to me," said the Nightingale, "I am not afraid.""If you want a red rose," said the Tree, "you must build it out of music by moonlight, and stain it with your own heart's blood.You must sing to me with your breast against a thorn. All night long you must sing to me, and the thorn must pierce your heart, and yourlife-blood must flow into my veins, and become mine.""Death is a great price to pay for a red rose," cried the Nightingale, "and life is very dear to all. Yet love is better than life, and what is the heart of a bird compared to the heart of a man"So she spread her brown wings for flight, and soared into the air. She swept over the garden like a shadow, and like a shadow she sailed through the grove.The young Student was still lying on the grass, and the tears were not yet dry in his beautiful eyes. "Be happy," cried the Nightingale, "be happy, you shall have your red rose. I will build it out of music by moonlight, and stain it with my own heart's blood. All that I ask of you in return is that you will be a true lover."The Student looked up from the grass, and listened, but he could not understand what the Nightingale was saying to him. But the Oak-tree understood and felt sad, for he was very fond of the little Nightingale. "Sing me one last song," he whispered. "I shall feel lonely when you are gone."So the Nightingale sang to the Oak-tree, and her voice was like water bubbling from a silver jar.When she had finished her song, the Student got up."She has form," he said to himself, as he walked away. "That cannot be denied. But has she got feeling I am afraid not. In fact, like most artists,she is all style without any sincerity." And he went to his room, and lay down on his bed, and after a time, he fell asleep.And when the Moon shone in the heaven, the Nightingale flew to the Rose-tree, and set her breast against the thorn. All night long she sang with her breast against the thorn, and the cold crystal Moon leaned down and listened. All night long she sang, and the thorn went deeper into her breast, and her life-blood ebbed away from her.She sang first of the birth of love in the heart of a boy and a girl. And on the topmost spray of the Rose-tree there blossomed a marvelous rose, petal following petal, as song followed song.But the Tree cried to the Nightingale to press closer against the thorn. "Press closer, little Nightingale," cried the Tree, "or the Day will come before the rose is finished."So the Nightingale pressed closer against the thorn, and louder and louder grew her song, for she sang of the birth of passion in the soul of a man and a maid.And a delicate flush of pink came into the leaves of the rose, like the flush in the face of the bridegroom when he kisses the lips of the bride. But the thorn had not yet reached her heart so the rose's heart remained white.And the Tree cried to the Nightingale to press closer against the thorn. "Press closer, little Nightingale," cried the Tree, "or the Day will come before the rose is finished."。
现代大学英语精读2课件lesson2
• n. detention
• be kept (held/placed) in detention
• detention centre (mainly Br. E)
• detention home
ห้องสมุดไป่ตู้
3. Clipping
• doc (doctor) • Back: dorm (dormitory), disco
• a. to prevent (sb.) from leaving for a certain time
• e.g. Police detained the man to make further inquiries.
• b. to delay
•
He was detained by business.
5. leap
• a leap forward/ahead • e.g. a new economic leap forward • by leaps and bounds: very quickly and
successfully • The population of China is growing by leaps and
4. Onomatopoeia (animal cries)
现代大学英语精读第二版book2unit1分析解析精选课件
Another School Year
Unit 1
Questions / Activities Check-on Preview Objectives
坚持
Warming up
Warming up Questions/Activities
• What do you go to college for? • How has your first semester in university
f_a_c_u_lt_y____ all the teachers of a university or college s_u_ff_ic_e_____ to be enough p_e_n_e_t_ra_t_in_g_ showing the ability to understand things clearly and
deeply s_a_v_a_g_e____ an uncivilized human being l_it_e_r_a_l ____ in a basic meaning of a word c_e_rt_if_y_____ to state something is correct e_n_r_o_ll_____ to officially arrange to join a university
坚持
Warming up Objectives
• Understand the occasion and stylistic features of the speech
• Think about the question of the purpose of university education
getting training for a job in a technical school but doing a B.Sc. at a university.
现代大学英语精读第二版book2unit1分析解析精选课件
a child of Italian immigrants Began his career teaching English at the University of
Kansas City Joined the US Air Force in 1942, served as a gunner in
AnAotnhoethr eSrcShcohooloYl eYeaarr–iardi John Ciardi
坚持
Another School Year
Unit 1
Warming up
B ackground T ext Analysis R einforcement
坚持
Warming up Objectives
• Understand the occasion and stylistic features of the speech
• Think about the question of the purpose of university education
literary endeavors.
坚持
Background
His Influence
Poet, translator, etymologist Major works:
Unit1现代大学英语精读2精品PPT课件
Background Information
Do you know anything about the famous historic literary figures below? Match the related information.
Name
William Shakespeare Alighier Dante
Unit One
Another School Year--- What For?
Topic discussion:
Why did you come to universities? What do you expect to learn in universities? Do you now have new visions of the purpose
8. It was well worthy to strive arduously in __p_u_r_s_u_i_t of our own happiness and dream!
9. We can __ce_r_t_if_y__for his competence as an editor .
--- by La Rochefoucauld
Pronunciation Meaning(s) & usage Collocations derivatives synonyms & antonyms Similar words Cultural information
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in American high schools and universities se_n_s_i_ti_v_e Able to understand or appreciate art, music or
现代大学英语第二版unit1PPT演示课件
Theme & Structure
20
Theme
The text gives us a general description of college students’ development or changes on campus.
The text is helpful in learning new knowledge, updating old thoughts, getting new habits and taking much self-confidence to tackle with challenges.
3. Topic sentence: • e.g. paras. 3, 5, 10
24
Techniques in Paragraph Development
1. Development: • quotation: in…(source); according to • categorization: first, second, …; one…another…; in addition to… • illustration/example
3. What changes have you made after one-year study in Zhejiang University of Technology?
3
There are
four seasons
in one’s
college years,
representing
different
• Identity is highly relational.
• identity crisis: the difficulties, confusions and anxieties that one goes through when he/she is not sure who he/she is and what his/her purpose in life is
杨立民《现代大学英语精读（2）》（第2版）学习指南【词汇短语＋课文精解＋全文翻译＋练习答案】
目 录Unit 1一、词汇短语二、课文精解三、全文翻译四、练习答案Unit 2一、词汇短语二、课文精解三、全文翻译四、练习答案Unit 3一、词汇短语二、课文精解三、全文翻译四、练习答案Unit 4一、词汇短语二、课文精解三、全文翻译四、练习答案Unit 5一、词汇短语二、课文精解三、全文翻译四、练习答案Unit 6一、词汇短语二、课文精解三、全文翻译四、练习答案Unit 7一、练习答案Unit 8一、词汇短语二、课文精解三、全文翻译四、练习答案Unit 9一、词汇短语二、课文精解三、全文翻译四、练习答案Unit 10一、词汇短语二、课文精解三、全文翻译四、练习答案Unit 11一、词汇短语二、课文精解三、全文翻译四、练习答案Unit 12一、词汇短语二、课文精解三、全文翻译四、练习答案Unit 13一、词汇短语二、课文精解三、全文翻译四、练习答案Unit 14一、练习答案Unit 15一、词汇短语二、课文精解三、全文翻译四、练习答案Unit 16一、词汇短语二、课文精解三、全文翻译四、练习答案Unit 1一、词汇短语Text Adisaster [di5zB:stE] n.灾难，灾祸；不幸【例句】These difficulties are caused by natural disasters. 这些困难都是由自然灾害造成的。
【助记】dis（不，没有）+aster（星星）→星星消失了，难道预示着灾难的来临？谐音“点扎死他”，灾难。
semester [si5mestE] n.学期；半年【例句】His writing has improved greatly in this semester. 这学期他的写作有了很大进步。
【助记】seme（看作semi半）+s+ ter（看作terra学期）→半学期beanpole [5bi:npEul] n.（插在地上供豆茎攀缘的）支竿，瘦长之人【例句】Li Ling’s elder sister is short and overweight while her younger sister is a beanpole.李玲的姐姐是个矮胖墩儿，可她妹妹却是个细高个儿。
现代大学英语精读2第1单元Paraphrase
Another School Year—What For?It would certify that he had specialized in pharmacy, but it would further certify that he had been exposed to some of the ideas mankind has generated within its history.The B.S. certificate would indicate/prove that the holder had special training in pharmacy, but it would also show that he/she had been introduced to some great ideas in the history of human civilization.You will see to it that the cyanide stays out of the aspirin, that the bull doesn’t jump the fence, or that your client doesn’t go to the electric chair as a result of your incompetence.As a pharmacist, you should at least make sure that your medicine is not mixed up with poison. If you are an engineer, you should at least be able to make a fence to keep out wild animals. If you become a lawyer, you should at least make sure an innocent person is not sentenced to death because you do not know how to defend your client.If you have no time for Shakespeare, for a basic look at philosophy, for the continuity of the fine arts, for that lesson of man’s development we call history—then you have no business staying in college.If you don’t want to improve your mind and broaden your horizon by studying a little literature, philosophy, the fine arts and history, you shouldn’t be here at college. Our colleges inevitably graduate a number of such life forms, but it cannot be said that they went to college; rather the college went through them—without making contact.Our colleges always produce such people. We cannot help that. But we can’t say that these people have received a proper college education. It is more accurate to say that these college years have just passed them by without leaving anything on them. There is not time enough in a single lifetime to invent for oneself everything one needs to know in order to be a civilized human.To become a civilized person, you need to know many things, and you cannot find out everything by yourself, because your life is too short.If you are too much in a hurry, or too arrogantly proud of your own limitation, to accept as a gift to your humanity some pieces of the minds of Aristotle, or Chaucer, or Einstein, you are neither a developed human nor a useful citizen of a democracy. You will not be considered as a civilized human being or a responsible citizen of a democratic society if you only care about making money, not realizing the importance of the thinking of Aristotle, Chaucer, Einstein as something that will help cultivate in you the quality of being a human.A university has no real existence and no real purpose except as it succeeds in putting you in touch, both as specialists and as humans, with those human minds your human mind needs to include.Only when university successfully helps the students expose to the ideas that make them civilized human beings can we say it has real purpose to exist.More Crime and Less Punishment。
现代大学英语阅读Unit 2
Para 1-2
1. 2. 3. 4. 5. bare: 露出，暴露 露出， harsh: 刺耳的，使人不舒服的 刺耳的， plus: as well as 和 ardor: 热情，狂热 热情， camping: 露营，野营 露营，
Para 14
1. out of work: 失业 2. virginity: 童贞 A historical firend is a person whom you’ve known since a long time ago and would like to share a lot with about you and your family.
Para 19-20
1. revive: 苏醒，复活 苏醒， 2. intense: 强烈的，热情的 强烈的， 3. perspective: 角度；观点；想法 角度；观点； On e o f t h e fat h ers ta l k s of sh ari n g t h e moment…, and another writes of reading to his s o n s e a c h e v e n i n g . Fa t h e r s t a l k a b o u t newborns entering the world, of sons marrying, and of the passing of tradition.
(From Fathers & Sons: the Bonding Process)
Para 11-13
1. marvelous: 了不起的，不平常的 了不起的， 2. beyond a doubt: 毫无疑问 But in December, Sean can no longer keep up with what the other kids are learning. His lessons have to be adapted to what he can do. It’s hard for parents to keep tabs on (监视，注意 监视， 监视 注意) what their kids are doing online and it's also hard for trucking companies (货运公司 to keep up 货运公司) 货运公司 with what their drivers are doing on the road.
现代大学英语精读2课文
Unit1Another School Year — What ForLet me tell you one of the earliest disasters in my career as a teacher. It was January of 1940 and I was fresh out of graduate school starting my first semester at the University of Kansas City. Part of the student body was a beanpole with hair on top who came into my class, sat down, folded his arms, and looked at me as if to say "All right, teach me something." Two weeks later we started Hamlet. Three weeks later he came into my office with his hands on his hips. "Look," he said, "I came here to be a pharmacist. Why do I have to read this stuff" And not having a book of his own to point to, he pointed to mine which was lying on the desk.New as I was to the faculty, I could have told this specimen a number of things. I could have pointed out that he had enrolled, not in a drugstore-mechanics school, but in a college and that at the end of his course meant to reach for a scroll that read Bachelor of Science. It would not read: Qualified Pill-Grinding Technician. It would certify that he had specialized in pharmacy, but it would further certify that he had been exposed to some of the ideas mankind has generated within its history. That is to say, he had not entered a technical training schoolbut a university and in universities students enroll for both training and education.I could have told him all this, but it was fairly obvious he wasn't going to be around long enough for it to matter. Nevertheless, I was young and I had a high sense of duty and I tried to put it this way: "For the rest of your life," I said, "your days are going to average out to about twenty-four hours. They will be a little shorter when you are in love, and a little longer when you are out of love, but the average will tend to hold. For eight of these hours, more or less, you will be asleep.""Then for about eight hours of each working day you will, I hope, be usefully employed. Assume you have gone through pharmacy school —or engineering, or law school, or whatever —during those eight hours you will be using your professional skills. You will see to it that the cyanide stays out of the aspirin, that the bull doesn't jump the fence, or that your client doesn't go to the electric chair as a result of your incompetence. These are all useful pursuits. They involve skills every man must respect, and they can all bring you basic satisfactions. Along with everything else, they will probably be what puts food on your table, supports your wife, and rearsyour children. They will be your income, and may it always suffice.""But having finished the day's work, what do you do with those other eight hours Let's say you go home to your family. What sort of family are you raising Will the children ever be exposed to a reasonably penetrating idea at home Will you be presiding over a family that maintains some contact with the great democratic intellect Will there be a book in the house Will there be a painting a reasonably sensitive man can look at without shuddering Will the kids ever get to hear Bach" That is about what I said, but this particular pest was not interested. "Look," he said, "you professors raise your kids your way; I'll take care of my own. Me, I'm out to make money." "I hope you make a lot of it," I told him, "because you're going to be badly stuck for something to do when you're not signing checks."Fourteen years later I am still teaching, and I am here to tell you that the business of the college is not only to train you, but to put you in touch with what the best human minds have thought. If you have no time for Shakespeare, for a basic look at philosophy, for the continuity of the fine arts, for that lesson of man's development we call history — then you haveno business being in college. You are on your way to being that new species of mechanized savage, the push-button Neanderthal. Our colleges inevitably graduate a number of such life forms, but it cannot be said that they went to college; rather the college went through them — without making contact.No one gets to be a human being unaided. There is not time enough in a single lifetime to invent for oneself everything one needs to know in order to be a civilized human.Assume, for example, that you want to be a physicist. You pass the great stone halls of, say, M. I. T., and there cut into the stone are the names of the scientists. The chances are that few, if any, of you will leave your names to be cut into those stones. Yet any of you who managed to stay awake through part of a high school course in physics, knows more about physics than did many of those great scholars of the past. You know more because they left you what they knew, because you can start from what the past learned for you.And as this is true of the techniques of mankind, so it is true of mankind's spiritual resources. Most of these resources, both technical and spiritual, are stored in books. Books are man's peculiar accomplishment. When you have read a book, you have added to your human experience. Read Homer and your mindincludes a piece of Homer's mind. Through books you can acquire at least fragments of the mind and experience of Virgil, Dante, Shakespeare —the list is endless. For a great book is necessarily a gift; it offers you a life you have not the time to live yourself, and it takes you into a world you have not the time to travel in literal time. A civilized mind is, in essence, one that contains many such lives and many such worlds. If you are too much in a hurry, or too arrogantly proud of your own limitations, to accept as a gift to your humanity some pieces of the minds of Aristotle, or Chaucer, or Einstein, you are neither a developed human nor a useful citizen of a democracy.I think it was La Rochefoucauld who said that most people would never fall in love if they hadn't read about it. He might have said that no one would ever manage to become human if they hadn't read about it.I speak, I'm sure, for the faculty of the liberal arts college and for the faculties of the specialized schools as well, when I say that a university has no real existence and no real purpose except as it succeeds in putting you in touch, both as specialists and as humans, with those human minds your human mind needs to include. The faculty, by its very existence, saysimplicitly: "We have been aided by many people, and by many books, in our attempt to make ourselves some sort of storehouse of human experience. We are here to make available to you, as best we can, that expertise."Unit2Maheegun My BrotherThe year I found Maheegun, spring was late in coming. That day, I was spearing fish with my grandfather when I heard the faint crying and found the shivering wolf cub.As I bent down, he moved weakly toward me. I picked him up and put him inside my jacket. Little Maheegun gained strength after I got the first few drops of warm milk in him. He wiggled and soon he was full and warm.My grandfather finally agreed to let me keep him.That year, which was my 14th, was the happiest of my life. Not that we didn't have our troubles. Maheegun was the most mischievous wolf cub ever. He was curious too. Like looking into Grandma's sewing basket — which he upset, scattering thread and buttons all over the floor. At such times, she would chase him out with a broom and Maheegun would poke his head around the corner, waiting for things to quiet down.That summer Maheegun and I became hunting partners. We hunted the grasshoppers that leaped about like little rockets. And in the fall, after the first snow our games took us to the nearest meadows in search of field mice. By then, Maheegun was half grown. Gone was the puppy-wool coat. In its place was a handsome black mantle.The winter months that came soon after were the happiest I could remember. They belonged only to Maheegun and myself. Often we would make a fire in the bushes. Maheegun would lay his head between his front paws, with his eyes on me as I told him stories. It all served to fog my mind with pleasure so that I forgot my Grandpa's repeated warnings, and one night left Maheegun unchained. The following morning in sailed Mrs. Yesno, wild with anger, who demanded Maheegun be shot because he had killed her rooster. The next morning, my grandpa announced that we were going to take Maheegun to the north shack.By the time we reached the lake where the trapper's shack stood, Maheegun seemed to have become restless. Often he would sit with his nose to the sky, turning his head this way and that as if to check the wind.The warmth of the stove soon brought sleep to me. But something caused me to wake up with a start. I sat up, and in themoon-flooded cabin was my grandfather standing beside me. "Come and see, son," whispered my grandfather.Outside the moon was full and the world looked all white with snow. He pointed to a rock that stood high at the edge of the lake. On the top was the clear outline of a great wolf sitting still, ears pointed, alert, listening."Maheegun," whispered my grandfather.Slowly the wolf raised his muzzle. "Oooo-oo-wow-wowoo-oooo!" The whole white world thrilled to that wild cry. Then after a while, from the distance came a softer call in reply. Maheegun stirred, with the deep rumble of pleasure in his throat. He slipped down the rock and headed out across the ice."He's gone," I said."Yes, he's gone to that young she-wolf." My grandfather slowly filled his pipe. "He will take her for life, hunt for her, protect her. This is the way the Creator planned life. No man can change it."I tried to tell myself it was all for the best, but it was hard to lose my brother.For the next two years I was as busy as a squirrel storing nuts for the winter. But once or twice when I heard wolf cries from distant hills, I would still wonder if Maheegun, in his battlefor life, found time to remember me.It was not long after that I found the answer.Easter came early that year and during the holidays I went to visit my cousins.My uncle was to bring me home in his truck. But he was detained by some urgent business. So I decided to come back home on my own.A mile down the road I slipped into my snowshoes and turned into the bush. The strong sunshine had dimmed. I had not gone far before big flakes of snow began drifting down.The snow thickened fast. I could not locate the tall pine that stood on the north slope of Little Mountain. I circled to my right and stumbled into a snow-filled creek bed. By then the snow had made a blanket of white darkness, but I knew only too well there should have been no creek there.I tried to travel west but only to hit the creek again. I knew I had gone in a great circle and I was lost.There was only one thing to do. Camp for the night and hope that by morning the storm would have blown itself out. I quickly made a bed of boughs and started a fire with the bark of an old dead birch. The first night I was comfortable enough. But when the first gray light came I realized that I was in deep trouble.The storm was even worse. Everything had been smothered by the fierce whiteness.The light of another day still saw no end to the storm. I began to get confused. I couldn't recall whether it had been storming for three or four days.Then came the clear dawn. A great white stillness had taken over and with it, biting cold. My supply of wood was almost gone. There must be more.Slashing off green branches with my knife, I cut my hand and blood spurted freely from my wound. It was some time before the bleeding stopped. I wrapped my hand with a piece of cloth I tore off from my shirt. After some time, my fingers grew cold and numb, so I took the bandage off and threw it away.How long I squatted over my dying fire I don't know. But then I saw the gray shadow between the trees. It was a timber wolf. He had followed the blood spots on the snow to the blood-soaked bandage."Yap... yap... yap... yoooo!" The howl seemed to freeze the world with fear.It was the food cry. He was calling, "Come, brothers, I have found meat." And I was the meat!Soon his hunting partner came to join him. Any time now, Ithought, their teeth would pierce my bones.Suddenly the world exploded in snarls. I was thrown against the branches of the shelter. But I felt no pain. And a great silence had come. Slowly I worked my way out of the snow and raised my head. There, about 50 feet away, crouched my two attackers with their tails between their legs. Then I heard a noise to my side and turned my head. There stood a giant black wolf. It was Maheegun, and he had driven off the others. "Maheegun... Maheegun...," I sobbed, as I moved through the snow toward him. "My brother, my brother," I said, giving him my hand. He reached out and licked at the dried blood.I got my little fire going again, and as I squatted by it, I started to cry. Maybe it was relief or weakness or both — I don't know. Maheegun whimpered too.Maheegun stayed with me through the long night, watching me with those big eyes. The cold and loss of blood were taking their toll.The sun was midway across the sky when I noticed how restless Maheegun had become. He would run away a few paces — head up, listening — then run back to me. Then I heard. It was dogs. It was the searching party! I put the last of my birch bark on the fire and fanned it into life.The sound of the dogs grew louder. Then the voices of men. Suddenly, as if by magic, the police dog team came up out of the creek bed, and a man came running toward my fire. It was my grandfather.The old hunter stopped suddenly when he saw the wolf. He raised his rifle. "Don't shoot!" I screamed and ran toward him, falling through the snow. "It's Maheegun. Don't shoot!"He lowered his rifle. Then I fell forward on my face, into the snow.I woke up in my bedroom. It was quite some time before my eyes came into focus enough to see my grandfather sitting by my bed. "You have slept three days," he said softly. "The doc says you will be all right in a week or two.""And Maheegun" I asked weakly."He should be fine. He is with his own kind."Unit3More Crime and Less PunishmentIf you are looking for an explanation of why we don't get tough with criminals, you need only look at the numbers. Each year almost a third of the households in America are victims of violence or theft. This amounts to more than 41 million crimes,many more than we are able to punish. There are also too many criminals. The best estimates suggest that 36 million to 40 million people (16 to 18 percent of the U. S. population) have arrest records for nontraffic offenses. We already have 2. 4 million people under some form of correctional supervision, 412, 000 of them locked away in a prison cell. We don't have room for any more!The painful fact is that the more crime there is the less we are able to punish it. This is why the certainty and severity of punishment must go down when the crime rate goes up. Countries like Saudi Arabia can afford to give out harsh punishments precisely because they have so little crime. But can we afford to cut off the hands of those who committed more than 35 million property crimes each year Can we send them to prison Can we execute more than 22,000 murderersWe need to think about the relationship between punishment and crime in a new way. A decade of careful research has failed to provide clear and convincing evidence that the threat of punishment reduces crime. We think that punishment deters crime, but it just might be the other way around. It just might be that crime deters punishment: that there is so much crime that it simply cannot be punished.This is the situation we find ourselves in today. Just as the decline in the number of high-school graduates has made it easier to gain admission to the college of one's choice, the gradual increase in the criminal population has made it more difficult to get into prison. While elite colleges and universities still have high standards of admissions, some of the most "exclusive" prisons now require about five prior serious crimes before an inmate is accepted into their correctional program. Our current crop of prisoners is an elite group, on the whole much more serious offenders than those who were once imprisoned in Alcatraz.These features show that it makes little sense to blame the police, judges or correctional personnel for being soft on criminals. There is not much else they can do. The police can't find most criminals and those they do find are difficult and costly to convict. Those convicted can't all be sent to prison. The society demands that we do everything we can against crime. The practical reality is that there is very little the police, courts or prisons can do about the crime problem. The criminal justice system must then become as powerless as a parent who has charge of hundreds of teenage children and who is nonetheless expected to answer the TV message: "It's 10 o'clock!Do you know where your children are"A few statistics from the Justice Department's recent "Report to the Nation on Crime and Justice" illustrate my point. Of every 100 serious crimes committed in America, only 33 are actually reported to the police. Of the 33 reported, about six lead to arrest. Of the six arrested, only three are prosecuted and convicted. The others are rejected or dismissed due to evidence or witness problems or are sent elsewhere for medical treatment instead of punishment. Of the three convicted, only one is sent to prison. The other two are allowed to live in their community under supervision. Of the select few sent to prison, more than half receive a maximum sentence of five years. The average inmate, however, leaves prison in about two years. Most prisoners gain early release not because parole boards are too easy on crime, but because it is much cheaper to supervise a criminal in the community. And, of course, prison officials must make room for the new prisoners sent almost daily from the courts.We could, of course, get tough with the people we already have in prison and keep them locked up for longer periods of time. Yet when measured against the lower crime rates this would probably produce, longer prison sentences are not worth thecost to state and local governments. Besides, those states that have tried to gain voters' approval for bonds to build new prisons often discover that the public is unwilling to pay for prison construction.And if it were willing to pay, long prison sentences may not be effective in reducing crime. In 1981, 124,000 convicts were released from prison. If we had kept them in jail for an additional year, how many crimes would have been prevented While it is not possible to know the true amount of crime committed by people released from prison in any given year, we do know the extent to which those under parole are jailed again for major crime convictions. This number is a surprisingly low 6 percent (after three years it rises to only 11 percent). Even if released prisoners commit an average of two crimes each, this would amount to only 15,000 crimes prevented: a drop in the bucket when measured against the 41 million crimes committed each year.More time spent in prison is also more expensive. The best estimates are that it costs an average of $13,000 to keep a person in prison for one year. If we had a place to keep the 124,000 released prisoners, it would have cost us $ billion to prevent 15,000 crimes. This works out to more than $100,000 percrime prevented. But there is more. With the average cost of prison construction running around $50,000 per bed, it would cost more than $6 billion to build the necessary cells. The first-year operating cost would be $150,000 per crime prevented, worth it if the victim were you or me, but much too expensive to be feasible as a national policy.Faced with the reality of the numbers, I will not be so foolish as to suggest a solution to the crime problem. My contribution to the public debate begins and ends with this simple observation: getting tough with criminals is not the answer.Unit4The Nightingale and the Rose "She said that she would dance with me if I brought her red roses," cried the young Student, "but in all my garden there is no red rose."From her nest in the oak tree the Nightingale heard him and she looked out through the leaves and wondered."No red rose in all my garden!" he cried, and his beautiful eyes filled with tears. "Ah, I have read all that the wise men have written, and all the secrets of philosophy are mine, yet for want of a red rose my life is made wretched.""Here at last is a true lover," said the Nightingale. "Night after night have I sung of him, and now I see him."The Prince gives a ball tomorrow night," murmured the young Student, "and my love will be there. If I bring her a red rose she will dance with me till dawn. I shall hold her in my arms, and she will lean her head upon my shoulder. But there is no red rose in my garden, so I shall sit lonely and my heart will break.""Here, indeed, is the true lover," said the Nightingale. Surely love is a wonderful thing. It is more precious than emeralds and opals."The musicians will play upon their stringed instruments," said the young Student, "and my love will dance to the sound of the harp and the violin. She will dance so lightly that her feet will not touch the floor. But with me she will not dance, for I have no red rose to give her," and he flung himself down on the grass, and buried his face in his hands, and wept. "Why is he weeping" asked a green Lizard, as he ran past him with his tail in the air."Why, indeed" said a Butterfly, who was fluttering about after a sunbeam."Why, indeed" whispered a Daisy to his neighbor, in a soft, lowvoice."He is weeping for a red rose," said the Nightingale. "For a red rose" they cried, "how very ridiculous!" and the little Lizard, who was something of a cynic, laughed outright. But the Nightingale understood the Student's sorrow, and sat silent in the Oak-tree.Suddenly she spread her brown wings for flight, and soared into the air. She passed through the grove like a shadow and like a shadow she sailed across the garden.In the centre of the grass-plot stood a beautiful Rose-tree, and when she saw it she flew over to it. "Give me a red rose," she cried, "and I will sing you my sweetest song."But the Tree shook its head."My roses are white," it answered, "as white as the foam of the sea, and whiter than the snow upon the mountain. But go to my brother who grows round the old sun-dial, and perhaps he will give you what you want."So the Nightingale flew over to the Rose-tree that was growing round the old sun-dial."Give me a red rose," she cried, "and I will sing you my sweetest song." But the Tree shook its head."My roses are yellow," it answered, "as yellow as the hair ofthe mermaiden, and yellower than the daffodil that blooms In the meadow. But go to my brother who grows beneath the Student's window, and perhaps he will give you what you want."So the Nightingale flew over to the Rose-tree that was growing beneath the Student's window."Give me a red rose," she cried, "and I will sing you my sweetest song." But the Tree shook its head."My roses are red," it answered, "as red as the feet of the dove, and redder than the great fans of coral. But the winter has chilled my veins, and the frost has nipped my buds, and the storm has broken my branches, and I shall have no roses at all this year.""One red rose is all that I want," cried the Nightingale, "only one red rose! Is there no way by which I can get it" "There is a way," answered the Tree, "but it is so terrible that I dare not tell it to you.""Tell it to me," said the Nightingale, "I am not afraid." "If you want a red rose," said the Tree, "you must build it out of music by moonlight, and stain it with your own heart's blood. You must sing to me with your breast against a thorn. All night long you must sing to me, and the thorn must pierce your heart, and your life-blood must flow into my veins, and become mine.""Death is a great price to pay for a red rose," cried the Nightingale, "and life is very dear to all. Yet love is better than life, and what is the heart of a bird compared to the heart of a man"So she spread her brown wings for flight, and soared into the air. She swept over the garden like a shadow, and like a shadow she sailed through the grove.The young Student was still lying on the grass, and the tears were not yet dry in his beautiful eyes. "Be happy," cried the Nightingale, "be happy, you shall have your red rose. I will build it out of music by moonlight, and stain it with my own heart's blood. All that I ask of you in return is that you will be a true lover."The Student looked up from the grass, and listened, but he could not understand what the Nightingale was saying to him. But the Oak-tree understood and felt sad, for he was very fond of the little Nightingale. "Sing me one last song," he whispered. "I shall feel lonely when you are gone."So the Nightingale sang to the Oak-tree, and her voice was like water bubbling from a silver jar.When she had finished her song, the Student got up."She has form," he said to himself, as he walked away. "Thatcannot be denied. But has she got feeling I am afraid not. In fact, like most artists, she is all style without any sincerity." And he went to his room, and lay down on his bed, and after a time, he fell asleep.And when the Moon shone in the heaven, the Nightingale flew to the Rose-tree, and set her breast against the thorn. All night long she sang with her breast against the thorn, and the cold crystal Moon leaned down and listened. All night long she sang, and the thorn went deeper into her breast, and her life-blood ebbed away from her.She sang first of the birth of love in the heart of a boy and a girl. And on the topmost spray of the Rose-tree there blossomed a marvelous rose, petal following petal, as song followed song.But the Tree cried to the Nightingale to press closer against the thorn. "Press closer, little Nightingale," cried the Tree, "or the Day will come before the rose is finished."So the Nightingale pressed closer against the thorn, and louder and louder grew her song, for she sang of the birth of passion in the soul of a man and a maid.And a delicate flush of pink came into the leaves of the rose, like the flush in the face of the bridegroom when he kisses thelips of the bride. But the thorn had not yet reached her heart so the rose's heart remained white.And the Tree cried to the Nightingale to press closer against the thorn. "Press closer, little Nightingale," cried the Tree, "or the Day will come before the rose is finished."So the Nightingale pressed closer against the thorn, and the thorn touched her heart, and a fierce pang of pain shot through her. Bitter, bitter was the pain, and wilder and wilder grew her song, for she sang of the Love that is perfected by Death, of the Love that dies not in the tomb.And the marvelous rose became crimson. Crimson was the girdle of petals, and crimson as ruby was the heart.But the Nightingale's voice grew fainter and a film came over her eyes. Fainter and fainter grew her song, and she felt something choking her in her throat.Then she gave one last burst of music. The white Moon heard it, and she forgot the dawn, and lingered on in the sky. The Red Rose heard it, and trembled all over with ecstasy, and opened its petals in the cold morning air."Look, look!" cried the Tree, "the rose is finished now." But the Nightingale made no answer, for she was lying dead in the long grass, with the thorn in her heart.。
现代大学英语精读第二版2第一课讲解.pdf
• the student body: all the students of the university
• body: a group of people who work or act together, often for an official purpose, or who are connected in some other way, e. g.
Sentence Paraphrase
• The word "beanpole“ means "a tall thin person"，Here the writer deliberately evokes a "bean pole”, a pole farmers use as a support in growing beans.
III. Sentence Paraphrase
Text Analysis
Theme
The author tries to clarify the purpose of a university: to put the students in touch with the best civilization that human race has created.
… I had just completed my graduate studies and began teaching at the University of Kansas City.
Sentence Paraphrase
• Part of the student body was a beanpole with hair on top who came into my class, sat down, folded his arms, and looked at me as if to say "All right, teach me something.” (Para.1)
(完整word版)现代大学英语精读2unit1Anotherschoolyear——whatfor
现代大学英语精读2Unit 1 Another school year------what for?又是一个新学年——为什么上大学？约翰查尔迪首先，给大家讲讲我教书生涯刚开始的时候经历过的一次失败吧。
那是在1940年的一月，我当时研究生刚毕业，开始在堪萨斯市大学教书。
我的学生中有个瘦高个儿，活像个长着头发的扁豆架支杆。
他走进课堂，坐了下来，双手在胸前交叉着，看了看我，好像在说：好吧，教我些什么吧。
两个礼拜以后，我们开始讲《哈姆雷特》。
又过了三个礼拜，他来到我的办公室，双手叉腰。
“我告诉你，”他说，“我到这里来是为了当个药剂师。
我干嘛要读这些玩意？”说着他用手指了指桌子上我的那本书，因为他自己没有带书来。
我当时虽然是个初出茅庐的新教师，可我也能告诉这位一些理由。
我可以向他指出，他进的不是一所制药学校，而是一所大学。
修满大学课程他就能得到一份证书，上面写着“理学士”，而不是“合格的药剂师”。
这份证书说明他接受过制药的专门训练，同时还说明，他受到过人类文明思想的熏陶。
换言之，他上的不是一所职业技术学校，而是一所大学，学生上大学既要接受职业训练，也要接受人文教育。
我完全可以对他说这些话的，但是很明显，他不会在大学坚持太久，他懂不懂这些道理无关紧要。
尽管如此，我当时很年轻，有很强的责任心，所以就试着这么跟他解释：“你这一辈子，每天大概平均有二十四个小时。
热恋的时候，你会觉得一天的时间短一点，而失恋的时候，则会长一些。
但是平均起来，大致就是这个数。
这其中的八个小时，你基本上是在睡觉。
“每个工作日，你大约需要工作八小时，我希望你会用来做些有用的事情。
假设你修完了制药，或者土木工程、法律或是其他学科的课程，那么在这八小时里，你会使用你的专业技术：在配制阿司匹林的时候，确保里面不掺进氰化物；在搞工程设计的时候，确保牛不会跳进篱笆里；当律师时，就要确保你的委托人不会因为你的无能而坐上电椅。
这些都是非常有用的职业，都需要人们应该尊重的技能，这些技能都能帮助你满足你的基本需求。
现代大学英语(第二版)精读2课文译文
第一课又一学年——为了什么？约翰•切阿迪给你们讲讲我刚当老师时候的一次失败经历吧。
那是1940年的1月，我从研究生院毕业不久，在堪萨斯城大学开始第一学期的教学工作。
一个瘦高，长得就像顶上有毛的豆角架一样的男学生走进我的课堂，坐下，双臂交叉放在胸前，看着我，好像在说：“好吧，教我一些东丙。
”两周后我们开始学习《哈姆雷特》。
三周后他双手叉腰走进我的办公室，“看，”他说，“我来这是学习当药剂师的。
我为什么必须读这个？”由于没有随身带着日己的书，他就指着桌子上放着的我的那木。
虽然我是位新老师，我木来可以告诉这个家伙许多事情的。
我木来可以指出，他考入的4、是制药技工培训学校而是大学，而且他在毕业时，应该得到一张写有理学学士而不是“合格的磨药工”的学位证书。
这证书会证明他专修过药剂学，但它还能进一步证明他曾经接触过一些人类发展史上产生的思想。
换均话说，他上的不是技能培训学校而是大学，在火学里学生既要得到培训又要接受教冇。
我本来可以把这些话都告诉他，但是很明显，他不会待很长时间，说了也没用。
但是，由于我当时很年轻而且责任感也很强，我尽景把我的意思这样表达出来：“在你的余生中，”我说，“平均每天24小时左右。
谈恋爱时，你会觉得它有点短；失恋时，你会觉得它有点长。
但平均每天24小时会保持不变。
在其余的大约8个小时的时间里，你会处于睡眠状态。
“然后在每个工作日8个小时左右的时间里，我希望你会忙于一些有用的事情。
假设你毕业于一所药科大学——或工程大学，法学院，或者其他什么大学——在那8 个小时时间里，你将用到你的专业技能。
作为一个药剂师，你要确保氣化物没有和阿斯匹林混在一起；作为一个工程师，你要确保一切都在你的掌控之中；作为一个律师，你要保证你的当事人没有因为你的无能而被处以电刑。
这呰都是有用的T.作，它们涉及到的技能每个人都必须尊重，而且它们都能给你带来基木的满足。
无论你还干些什么，这些技能都很可能是你养家糊I」的木领。
现代大学英语精读2完整lesson1PPT课件
Chaucer
La Rochefoucauld
Greek English
The Divine Comedy
Hamlet
.
6
Name
Nationality
Masterpiece
William Shakespeare
Alighier Dante
Italian German源自Relativity Maxims
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9
Pre-class Questions
2) Why did the writer do some calculation? 3) Do you think the student was convinced? 4. What is the writer’s view on the purpose of a university? (theme)
Paraphrasing: Our colleges inevitably produce such people who can operate machines but who cannot think. We cannot help that. But we can’t say that these people have received a proper college education. It is more accurate to say that these college years have just passed them by without leaving anything on them.
appreciation
.
4
Background Information
Do you know anything about the famous historic literary figures below? Match the related information.
现代大学英语阅读2_text_1
Speaking of love, there’s too much to say. But we can’t actually talk about it without mentioning romance. Isn’t a fine dinner in a luxury restaurant with lit candles attractive? Isn’t a bunch of red roses in the morning surprising? Isn’t sweet words that almost have your heart melted touching? The answer will absolutely be “yes”. I, however, think that romance will only play a little part in love. I’ve never been in love, therefore I don’t know how important romance really means for a couple who love each other enthusiastically. If I have a chance to choose, I’ll prefer rational love and sense of responsibility instead of romance.
Romantic or not, the result of love will be getting into marriage. And I’m sure many of you must have heard of a famous saying which says “Marriage is the tomb of love. ” Because once a man and a woman marry, they ’ ll have to live together. Then they’ll have to accept and adapt to the differences and distance between being together and living together. They’ll have to face the endless chores in daily life and plan for their money together. Those will unavoidably lead to disagreements and even give rise to quarrels.
现代大学英语精读5lesson2twokindsplot1.pptx
In the beginning the child was as excited as the mother about becoming a prodigy.
This change of attitudes leads to the gradual development of the conflict.
2019/10/4
Section 3(para.21-28)
While watching a Chinese girl playing the piano on an Ed Sullivan Show, a new idea flashed into the mother’s head: Why not my daughter can be a good pianist like that Chinese girl?
At this point, the conflict between mother and daughter was not visible.
2019/10/4
Section 2(para.12-20)
In this part, the mother was trying very hard to train her daughter to be a genius. However, as the tests got more and more difficult, the daughter lost interest . She decided that she would not let her mother change her.