精读Unit2课文-The-Fun-They-Had(新)
Unit2TheFunTheyHad课文翻译综合教程一
Unit 2 The Fun They HadMargie even wrote about it that night inOn the page headed May 17, 2157, she her diary.wrote, "Today Tommy found a real book!"It was a very old book. Margie's grandfather once said that when he was a littleboy his grandfather told him that there was a time when all stories were printed on paper.They turned the pages, which were yellow and crinkly, and it was awfully funnyto read words that stood still instead of moving the way they were supposed to — ona screen, you know. And then, when they turned back to the page before, it had the same words on it that it had had when they read it the first time."Gee," said Tommy, "What a waste! When you're through with the book, youjust throw it away, I guess. Our television screen must have a million books on itand it's good for plenty more. I wouldn't throw it away.""Same with mine," said Margie. She was eleven and hadn't seen as manytelebooks as Tommy had. He was thirteen.She said, "Where did you find it?""In my house," he pointed without looking because he was busy reading. "In the attic.""What's it about?""School."Margie was scornful. "School? What's there to write about school? I hat school."Margie always hated school, but now she hated it more than ever. Themechanical teacher had been giving her test after test in geography and she hadbeen doing worse and worse until her mother had shaken her head sorrowfully andsent for the County Inspector.He was a round little man with a red face and a whole box of tools with dialsand wires. He smiled at Margie and gave her an apple, then took the teacher apart. Margie had hoped he wouldn't know how to put it together again, but he knew howall right, and, after an hour or so, there it was again, large and black and ugly, witha big screen on which all the lessons were shown and the questions were asked.That wasn't so bad. The part Margie hated most was the slot where she had to put homework and test papers. She always had to write them out in a punch code they made her learn when she was six years old, and the mechanical teacher calculated the mark in no time.Margie was disappointed. She had been hoping they would take the teacher away altogether.So she said to Tommy, "Why would anyone write about school?"Tommy looked at her with very superior eyes, "Because it's not our kind of school, stupid.This is the old kind of school that they had hundreds and hundreds of years ago."He added loftily, pronouncing the word carefully, "Centuries ago."Margie was hurt. "Well, I don't know what kind of school they had all thattime ago." She read the book over his shoulder for a while, then said,"Anyway, they had a teacher.""Sure they had a teacher, but it wasn't a regular teacher. It was a man.""A man? How could a man be a teacher?""Well, he just told the boys and girls things and gave them homework and asked them questions.""A man isn't smart enough.""Sure he is. My father knows as much as my teacher."Margie wasn't prepared to dispute that. She said, "I wouldn't want a strange man in my house to teach me."Tommy screamed with laughter. "You don't know much, Margie. Theteachers didn't live in the house. They had a special building and all the kidswent there.""And all the kids learned the same thing?""Sure, if they were the same age.""But my mother says a teacher has to be adjusted to fit the minds of each boy and girl it teaches and that each kid has to be taught differently."They weren't even half-finished when Margie's mother called, "Margie! School!"Margie looked up. "Not yet, Mamma.""Now!" said Mrs. Jones. "And it's probably time for Tommy, too."Margie said to Tommy, "Can I read the book some more with you after school?""Maybe," he said nonchalantly. He walked away whistling, the dusty old book tucked beneath his arm.Margie went into the schoolroom. It was right next to her bedroom, and the mechanical teacher was on and waiting for her. It was always on at the same timeevery day except Saturday and Sunday, because her mother said little girls learned better if they learned at regular hours.The screen was lit up, and it said: "Today's arithmetic lesson is on the addition of proper fractions. Please insert yesterday's homework in the proper slot."Margie did so with a sigh. She was thinking about the old school they had when her grandfather's grandfather was a little boy. All the kids from the whole neighborhood came, laughing and shouting in the schoolyard, sitting together in the schoolroom, going home togetherat the end of the day. They learned the same things, so they could help one another on the homework and talk about it.And the teachers were people.Margie was thinking about how the kids must have loved it in the old days.She was thinking about the fun they had.他们的快乐那天晚上玛吉甚至在她的日记里还写到了它。
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."。
Unit2 No.1-3 The Fun They Had(课堂PPT)
…It’s good for plenty more.(para4L3)
• It’s good for=it’s capable of providing
26
plenty
1) n./pron. (the state of having) enough or more than enough, or a large amount
13
Structural analysis
Paragraph(s) 1
2-30
Main idea
It serves as the background of the story.
It tells us a conversation between the two leading characters, Margie and Tommy, running through most of it.
15
Detailed Reading
16
Fun
n. 乐趣 I got a lot of fun out of reading. I want to have fun with you guys. Have fun! a. 风趣的，开心的 b. He was tall, good-looking, and great fun. c. I miss the fun time we spent together.
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Text analysis How is the story organized and developed (hint: the time clues of the text )?
a flashback at the beginning(para1) mostly a chronological order(para2-35) a flashback unfolding in the middle (para11-12)
unit 2 the fun they had
Para. 31-35
Sentences to paraphrase
They turned the pages, which were yellow and crinkly, and it was awfully funny to read words that stood still instead of moving the way they were supposed to on a screen, you know. ( L1-3, para.2) Paraphrase:
Background Knowledge
Science fiction Issac Asimov The Fun They Had
Background Knowledge
Science fiction
• (sf, SF, sci-fi), is a genre of fiction
dealing with imaginary but more or less plausible content such as future settings, futuristic science and technology, space travel, aliens, and paranormal abilities.
Pre-reading questions
Will you be taught by human teachers or mechanical teachers? Will you be taught alone or along with others? Will you be taught at home or in the classroom? How may students of the year 2050 be taught ? Can human teachers be replaced by robot teachers in the future?
精读Unit2课文-The-Fun-They-Had(新)
The Fun They HadIsaac AsimovMargie even wrote about it that night in her diary. On the page headed May 17, 2157, she wrote, "Today, Tommy found a real book!"It was a very old book. Margie's grandfather once said that when he was a little boy his grandfather told him that there was a time when all stories were printed on paper.They turned the pages, which were yellow and crinkly, and it was awfully funny to read words that stood still instead of moving the way they were supposed to--on a screen, you know. And then, when they turned back to the page before, it had the same words on it that it had had when they read it the first time."Gee," said Tommy, "what a waste. When you're through with the book, you just throw it away, I guess. Our television screen must have had a million books on it and it's good for plenty more. I wouldn't throw it away.""Same with mine," said Margie. She was eleven and hadn't seen as many telebooks as Tommy had. He was thirteen. She said, "Where did you find it?""In my house." He pointed without looking, because he was busy reading. "In the attic." "What's it about?" "School."Margie was scornful. "School? What's there to write about school? I hate school."Margie always hated school, but now she hated it more than ever. The mechanical teacher had been giving her test after test in geography and she had been doing worse and worse until her mother had shaken her head sorrowfully and sent for the County Inspector.He was a round little man with a red face and a whole box of tools with dials and wires. He smiled at Margie and gave her an apple, then took the teacher apart. Margie had hoped he wouldn't know how to put it together again, but he knew how all right, and, after an hour or so, there it was again, large and black and ugly, with a big screen on which all the lessons were shown and the questions were asked. That wasn't so bad. The part Margie hated most was the slotwhere she had to put homework and test papers. She always had to write them out in a punch code they made her learn when she was six years old, and the mechanical teacher calculated the mark in no time.The Inspector had smiled after he was finished and patted Margie's head. He said to her mother, "It's not the littlegirl's fault, Mrs. Jones. I think the geography sector was geared a little too quick. Those things happen sometimes. I've slowed it up to an average ten-year level. Actually, the over-all pattern of her progress is quite satisfactory." And he patted Margie's head again.Margie was disappointed. She had been hoping they would take the teacher away altogether. They had once taken Tommy's teacher away for nearly a month because the history sector had blanked out completely.So she said to Tommy, "Why would anyone write about school?"Tommy looked at her with very superior eyes. "Because it's not our kind of school, stupid. This is the old kind of school that they had hundreds and hundreds of years ago." Headded loftily, pronouncing the word carefully, "Centuries ago."Margie was hurt. "Well, I don't know what kind of school they had all that time ago." She read the book over his shoulder for a while, then said, "Anyway, they had a teacher.""Sure they had a teacher, but it wasn't a regular teacher. It was a man." "A man? How could a man be a teacher?" "Well, he just told the boys and girls things and gave them homework and asked them questions." "A man isn't smart enough." "Sure he is. My father knows as much as my teacher." "He can't. A man can't know as much as a teacher." "He knows almost as much, I betcha."Margie wasn't prepared to dispute that. She said, "1 wouldn't want a strange man in my house to teach me."Tommy screamed with laughter. "You don't know much, Margie. The teachers didn't live in the house. They had a special building and all the kids went there." "And all the kids learned the same thing?" "Sure, if they were the same age.""But my mother says a teacher has to be adjusted to fit the mind of each boy and girl it teaches and that each kid has to be taught differently.""Just the same they didn't do it that way then. If you don't like it, you don't have to read the book.""I didn't say I didn't like it," Margie said quickly. She wanted to read about those funny schools.They weren't even half-finished when Margie's mother called, "Margie! School!" Margie looked up. "Not yet, Mamma.""Now!" said Mrs. Jones. "And it's probably time for Tommy, too."Margie said to Tommy, "Can I read the book some more with you after school?""Maybe," he said nonchalantly. He walked away whistling, the dusty old book tucked beneath his arm.Margie went into the schoolroom. It was right next to her bedroom, and the mechanical teacher was on and waiting for her. It was always on at the same time every day exceptSaturday and Sunday, because her mother said little girls learned better if they learned at regular hours.The screen was lit up, and it said: "Today's arithmetic lesson is on the addition of proper fractions. Please insert yesterday's homework in the proper slot."Margie did so with a sigh. She was thinking about the old schools they had when her grandfather's grandfather was a little boy. All the kids from the whole neighborhood came, laughing and shouting in the schoolyard, sitting together in the schoolroom, going home together at the end of the day. They learned the same things, so they could help one another on the homework and talk about it.And the teachers were people...The mechanical teacher was flashing on the screen: "When we add the fractions 1/2 and 1/4..."Margie was thinking about how the kids must have loved it in the old days. She was thinking about the fun they had.。
unit2thefuntheyhadforstudents)商务英语课件
Unit 2 The Virtues of Growing OlderSection One Pre-reading ActivitiesWords and Expressions1. aging n. the process of becoming olde.g. People want to figure out whether doing sports can influence aging in the body. Comparison:elderly a. a polite word meaning olde.g. The building has now been converted into a retirement home for the elderly.senior citizen a polite expression meaning old people2. dread vt. feel great fear or anxiety aboute.g. The little girl dreads sleeping alone.The staff in this company dread to think what will happen if the financial crisis comes. Derivation:dreadful a.Synonym:fear, frighten3. distinct a. noticeable, unmistakablee.g. The footprints are quite distinct; they must be fresh.Collocation:distinct from sth. different in kind; separatee.g. Mozart’s style is quite distinct from Haydn’s.Astronomy, as distinct from astrology, is an exact science.天文学是一门严谨的科学，与占星术完全不同。
Unit 2 The Fun They Had
Unit 2 The Fun They Had1.语音学习任务听辨dial和wire后三个字母组合的读音2.语法学习任务冠词常规用法请参见课后练习。
需知道的冠词非常规用法五种情况：(1) 成对使用的名词或形容词等固定搭配，不用冠词。
right and wrong, friend and foe, track and field, husband and wife, rich and poor, arm in arm, from right to left, young and old, hands and kneels, fish and chips, face to face, step by step, word for word, time after time, back and forth.(2) 介词后表示抽象概念的名词前不用冠词。
He is at university. 他正在读大学。
Her son is still in jail. 坐牢。
He put the baby to bed. 睡觉。
(3) 泛指人类或男女Woman has played an important role in modern society.Man should help and love each other.Man is lord over the creation.Can man be free if woman is a slave?Man is mortal.Woman is frail.(4) turn writer还是turn a writer?当turn或go理解为“变成”时，其后作表语的名词前不用冠词。
He turn writer in the thirties.The man turned traitor after he was arrested.She has gone democrat.但若作表语的名词前面有形容词修饰时，须用不定冠词。
1-Unit2-The-Fun-They-Had答案
Unit 2 The Fun They HadKey to the ExercisesText ComprehensionI. Decide which of the following best states the author’s purpose of writing.AII. Judge, according to the text, whether the following statements are true or false.1. T2. F3. T4. F5. TIV. Explain in your own words the following sentences.1. Her mother asked the County Inspector to come over.2. The mechanical teacher worked out the mark very quickly.3. Tommy looked at Margie with an air which suggested he knew far better about school than others.4. A teacher has to make necessary changes about what to teach and how to teach so as to meet the needs of different pupils.VocabularyI. Explain the underlined part in each sentence in your own words.1. have finished reading2. by looking from behind his shoulder3. is capable of providing4. asked the Country Inspector to come over5. disassembled the machine / mechanic teacher6. didn’t like / want toII. Fill in the blank in each sentence with a word or phrase taken from the box in its appropriate form.1. in no time2. crinkly3. scornful4. neighbourhood5. awfully6. adjusting7. tuck8. nonchalantly9. punched 10. fitIII. Choose a word or phrase that best completes each of the following sentences.1. D2. A3. B4. B5. A6. C7. C8. BIV. Fill in each blank with one of the two words from each pair in its appropriate form and note the difference in meaning between them.1. a. funny b. interesting c. interesting d. funny2. a. silent b. silent c. still d. still3. a. dispute b. arguing c. disputing d. arguing4. a. usual b. usual c. Regular d. regularV. Give a synonym or an antonym of the word underlined in each sentence in the sense it is used.1. Synonym: actual, genuine, true2. Antonym: moving, movable, mobile, restless3. Synonym: rough, coarse, uneven4. Antonym: like, love, enjoy5. Synonym: disdainful, contemptuous6. Antonym: inferior, subordinate, secondary7. Synonym: indifferently, coldly, coolly, casually, offhandedly8. Antonym: irregular, uncertain, randomVI. Fill in the blank in each sentence with an appropriate form of the given capitalized word in brackets.1. pointless2. reproduction3. unreliable4. generosity5. apologetic6. disobedience7. employer, employees8. encouragementGrammarI. Put in a / an or the where necessary.1. the, the2. a3. a, a, /4. a5. the6. /, the7. The, the, /8. the, the9. a, a, a 10. a, a, aII. Put in the where necessary.1. /, /, /2. /3. the, /4. the, /5. /, /6. The7. the8. the, the9. the, / 10. /III. Choose the correct noun or noun phrase from the underlined parts of the following sentence.1. light2. a noise3. very good weather4. bad luck5. president6. The vegetables7. war8. All the books9. coffee 10. poetryIV. Complete the sentences with the if necessary.1. /2. the3. /4. the5. the6. /7. /8. theV. Rewrite the newspaper headlines using articles where necessary.1. A Briton falls to his death on the Matterhorn.2. An Olympic silver medalist dies in a crash.3. Callaghan recalls the British Ambassador from Chile.4. The army ends the chaos in the capital.5. A college student wins the first prize.TranslationI. Translate the following sentences into Chinese.1. 玛吉的爷爷曾经说过，小时候他的爷爷告诉他，过去故事都是印刷在纸上的。
Unit 2 他们拥有的乐趣
Copyright © Tiffany. All Rights Reserved
Books in the future
E- book (electronic book)
Copyright © Tiffany. All Rights Reserved
Copyright © Tiffany. All Rights Reserved
Bone inscriptions
Copyright © Tiffany. All Rights Reserved
Lead-in Watch and Discuss
1. What did the Captain say when he wanted to read the book? 2. Will paper books be replaced by ebooks?
Robot Friendffany. All Rights Reserved
Robot Servant? (from 机械公敌)
Copyright © Tiffany. All Rights Reserved
Robot teacher? (from South Korean)
head v.
A. 在… 前面，在… 顶部 B. 作为…的首领； 带领 1. The president’s car headed the procession. 2. Robert will head the cast of Twilight. 3. The sales director heads a team of 20 representatives. 4. This “Rainbow Canyon” heads the list of natural attractions. 5. The Commission of Inquiry headed by the Mr. 1. 这是一篇题为《人类生命保护》的文章。 is investigating the case. 2. Johnson 给我一张有抬头的便条纸
大学英语精读第二册课文翻译（全）
大学英语精读第二册课文翻译(全)UNTH 2-1It is humorous essay. 这是一篇幽默的文章。
But after reading it you will surely find that the author is most serious in writing it.但是读过之后你将会发现作者写这篇文章的时候是很严肃的。
Is There Life on Earth? 地球上有生命吗？Art Buchwald阿特.布奇沃德There was great excitement on the planet of V enus this week. 金星上本周异常热闹。
For the first time V enusian scientists managed to land a satellite on the plant Earth, 那里的科学家首次成功地将一颗卫星送上了地球，and is has been sending back signals as well as photographs ever since. 从此卫星便一直不断地发回信号和照片。
The satellite was directed into an area know as Manhattan 卫星被发射到一个叫曼哈顿的地区(named after the great V enusian astronomer Prof. （它是用金星上伟大的天文学家曼哈顿教授的名字命名的, Manhattan, who first discovered it with his telescope 20,000 light years ago). 两万光年前是他首次用望远镜发现了该地区）。
Because of excellent weather conditions and extremely strong signals, 由于良好的天气条件以及高质量的信号，V enusian scientists were able to get valuable information 使得金星上的科学家们能够获得宝贵资料as to the feasibility of a manned flying saucer landing on Earth. 有关载人飞碟能否在地球上着陆。
Unit2---The fun they had
Reading aloud
Cultural information
Audiovisual supplement
Captain: Huh! Captain: We have a jogging track? Video: If you have any further questions, just consult your operation manual. See you back home real soon. Captain: Uh … Manuel, relay instructions. Manuel? … Wow! Will you look at that?
Reading aloud
Cultural information
Audiovisual supplement
2. Science Fiction
Science fiction is a genre (['ʒɒŋrə] 文体)of fiction. It deals with imaginary but more or less plausible content such as future settings, futuristic science and technology, space travel, aliens, and paramornal abilities. Science fiction is largely based on writing rationally about alternative possibilities. The settings for science fiction are often contrary to the known reality, but the majority of science fiction relies on a considerable degree of suspension of disbelief provided by potential scientific explanations to various fictional elements.
Unit-2-The-Fun-They-Had-课文翻译-综合教程一精品名师资料
Unit 2 The Fun They HadMargie even wrote about it that night in her diary. On the page headed May 17, 2157, she wrote, "Today Tommy found a real book!"It was a very old book. Margie's grandfather once said that when he was a little boy his grandfather told him that there was a time when all stories were printed on paper.They turned the pages, which were yellow and crinkly, and it was awfully funny to read words that stood still instead of moving the way they were supposed to—on a screen, you know. And then, when they turned back to the page before, it had the same words on it that it had had when they read it the first time."Gee," said Tommy, "What a waste! When you're through with the book, you just throw it away, I guess. Our television screen must have a million books on it and it's good for plenty more.I wouldn't throw it away.""Same with mine," said Margie. She was eleven and hadn't seen as many telebooks as Tommy had. He was thirteen.She said, "Where did you find it?""In my house," he pointed without looking because he was busy reading. "In the attic.""What's it about?""School."Margie was scornful. "School? What's there to write about school? I hat school."Margie always hated school, but now she hated it more than ever. The mechanical teacher had been giving her test after test in geography and she had been doing worse and worse until her mother had shaken her head sorrowfully and sent for the County Inspector.He was a round little man with a red face and a whole box of tools with dials and wires. He smiled at Margie and gave her an apple, then took the teacher apart. Margie had hoped he wouldn't know how to put it together again, but he knew how all right, and, after an hour or so, there it was again, large and black and ugly, with a big screen on which all the lessons were shown and the questions were asked. That wasn't so bad. The part Margie hated most was the slot where she hadto put homework and test papers. She always had to write them out in a punch code they made her learn when she was six years old, and the mechanical teacher calculated the mark in no time.Margie was disappointed. She had been hoping they would take the teacher away altogether. So she said to Tommy, "Why would anyone write about school?"Tommy looked at her with very superior eyes, "Because it's not our kind of school, stupid. This is the old kind of school that they had hundreds and hundreds of years ago." He added loftily, pronouncing the word carefully, "Centuries ago."Margie was hurt. "Well, I don't know what kind of school they had all that time ago." She read the book over his shoulder for a while, then said, "Anyway, they had a teacher.""Sure they had a teacher, but it wasn't a regular teacher. It was a man.""A man? How could a man be a teacher?""Well, he just told the boys and girls things and gave them homework and asked them questions.""A man isn't smart enough.""Sure he is. My father knows as much as my teacher."Margie wasn't prepared to dispute that. She said, "I wouldn't want a strange man in my house to teach me."Tommy screamed with laughter. "You don't know much, Margie. The teachers didn't live in the house. They had a special building and all the kids went there.""And all the kids learned the same thing?""Sure, if they were the same age.""But my mother says a teacher has to be adjusted to fit the minds of each boy and girl it teaches and that each kid has to be taught differently."They weren't even half-finished when Margie's mother called, "Margie! School!"Margie looked up. "Not yet, Mamma.""Now!" said Mrs. Jones. "And it's probably time for Tommy, too."Margie said to Tommy, "Can I read the book some more with you after school?""Maybe," he said nonchalantly. He walked away whistling, the dusty old book tucked beneath his arm.Margie went into the schoolroom. It was right next to her bedroom, and the mechanical teacher was on and waiting for her. It was always on at the same time every day except Saturday and Sunday, because her mother said little girls learned better if they learned at regular hours.The screen was lit up, and it said: "Today's arithmetic lesson is on the addition of proper fractions. Please insert yesterday's homework in the proper slot."Margie did so with a sigh. She was thinking about the old school they had when her grandfather's grandfather was a little boy. All the kids from the whole neighborhood came, laughing and shouting in the schoolyard, sitting together in the schoolroom, going home together at the end of the day. They learned the same things, so they could help one another on the homework and talk about it.And the teachers were people.Margie was thinking about how the kids must have loved it in the old days. She was thinking about the fun they had.他们的快乐那天晚上玛吉甚至在她的日记里还写到了它。
The Fun They Had 大学英语精读 教学课件(共13张PPT)
5. He failed in the college entrance examination last year, but he did not feel disappointed. Instead, he continued to study hard, passed the examination successfully and became a student in a famous university this year.
• 8) With his shirt tucked into the top of his trousers and a leather bag tucked under his arm, the boy looked just like a boss.
• 9) Although she is only eight years old, the little girl is already very good at calculating fractions. No wonder her parents feel very proud of her.
2. It is awfully funny and splits your ideas with laughter to observe these caricatures which satirize social ills.
3. Computers are one of the most useful teaching aids, for all your lessons as well as all the questions asked and all the answers provided can be shown on a screen.
最新版现代大学英语精读2-unit-2课文翻译say yes
Text ASay Yes1.They were doing the dishes, his wife washing while he dried. Unlikemost men he knew,he really pitched（用力扔;投;抛;搭帐篷；沥青漆黑；）in on the housework. A few months earlier he'd overheard a friend of his wife's congratulating her on having such a considerate husband. 他们在洗盘子，妻子，他擦干。
与他认识的大多数男人不同，他确实主动到帮助做家务。
几个月前他无意听到他妻子的一个朋友祝贺她有这样一个体贴的丈夫。
2.They talked about different things and somehow got onto the subjectof whether white people should marry black people. He said that all things considered, he thought it was a bad idea.他们闲聊着不同的事情，不知不觉就谈到了白人是否应该和黑人结婚这一话题。
他说综合各方面考虑，这不是一一个好主意。
3.“Why?" she asked.“为什么?”她问。
4.Sometimes his wife got this look where she pinched（拧;捏;掐;捏住）her brows（[braʊ]额头;山脊;坡顶）together and bit her lower lip.When he saw her like this he knew he should keep his mouth shut, but he never did.Actually it made him talk more. She had that look now.有时他妻子会做出这样的表情;紧锁双眉，咬住下唇。
大学英语精读第二册课件Unit2
Unit 2Part I New Wordsdeclaration n. 宣布，宣告，宣言，声明a declaration of independence 独立宣言The government will issue a formal declaration tomorrow. 政府将于明天发布正式声明。
declare v. 断言，宣称He declared (that) he was right. 他力陈他是对的。
He declared his true feelings to her. 他向她表白了自己的真实感情。
independence n. 独立；自主；自立I've always valued my independence. 我一向很重视自己的独立。
I-Day 美国独立纪念日(7月4日)Young people have more independence these days. 现在的年轻人更加独立自主。
independent a. 自主的；独立的India became independent in 1947. 印度于1947年独立。
I wanted to remain independent in old age. 我希望年老时还能自给自足(独立生活)。
obtain v. 得到，获得；行，得到公认，应用Where can I obtain the book? 我在哪里能买到（得到）这本书?These ideas no longer obtain. 这些见解已经行不通了。
Different laws obtain in different places. 不同的法律适用在不同的地方。
besides prep./ad. 除…以外（还）；而且，也He had other people to take care of besides me. 除了我以外, 他还需要照料其他人。
I don't want to go; besides, I'm too tired. 我不想去, 再说我也太累了。
现代大学英语精读2课后翻译（新）
现代大学英语精读2课后翻译（新）UNIT 11.我们像在暖房里种花那样养孩子是错误的。
我们必须让他们接触各种社会问题，因为不久他们就将作为公民来应对这些问题。
It is wrong to raise our children the way we grow flowers in the greenhouse. we must expose them to all social problems because very soon they will be dealing with them as responsible citizens. 2.随着时间的推移，我们不可避免地会越来越多的卷入国际事务。
而冲突必然会发生，因为国家之间总有不同的观点和利益。
As time goes on we are inevitably going to get more involve in international affairs. And Conflicts are sure to occur because there always exist different views and interests among nations.3.我们为我们的成就而骄傲，我们有理由感到骄傲。
但是我们永远不能变得狂妄，不然我们就会失去我们的朋友。
We are proud of our accomplishment, and we have reason to be.But we must never become arrogant. Otherwise we will lose our friends.4.信息现在唾手可得。
一个普通的电脑就能储存一个普通图书馆的信息。
Information is now easily available. An average computer can store the information of an ordinary library.5.那家建筑公司没有资格操作这个项目。
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The Fun They HadIsaac AsimovMargie even wrote about it that night in her diary. On the page headed May 17, 2157, she wrote, "Today, Tommy found a real book!"It was a very old book. Margie's grandfather once said that when he was a little boy his grandfather told him that there was a time when all stories were printed on paper.They turned the pages, which were yellow and crinkly, and it was awfully funny to read words that stood still instead of moving the way they were supposed to--on a screen, you know. And then, when they turned back to the page before, it had the same words on it that it had had when they read it the first time."Gee," said Tommy, "what a waste. When you're through with the book, you just throw it away, I guess. Our television screen must have had a million books on it and it's good for plenty more. I wouldn't throw it away.""Same with mine," said Margie. She was eleven and hadn't seen as many telebooks as Tommy had. He was thirteen. She said, "Where did you find it?""In my house." He pointed without looking, because he was busy reading. "In the attic." "What's it about?" "School."Margie was scornful. "School? What's there to write about school? I hate school."Margie always hated school, but now she hated it more than ever. The mechanical teacher had been giving her test after test in geography and she had been doing worse and worse until her mother had shaken her head sorrowfully and sent for the County Inspector.He was a round little man with a red face and a whole box of tools with dials and wires. He smiled at Margie and gave her an apple, then took the teacher apart. Margie had hoped he wouldn't know how to put it together again, but he knew how all right, and, after an hour or so, there it was again, large and black and ugly, with a big screen on which all the lessons were shown and the questions were asked. That wasn't so bad. The part Margie hated most was the slotwhere she had to put homework and test papers. She always had to write them out in a punch code they made her learn when she was six years old, and the mechanical teacher calculated the mark in no time.The Inspector had smiled after he was finished and patted Margie's head. He said to her mother, "It's not the littlegirl's fault, Mrs. Jones. I think the geography sector was geared a little too quick. Those things happen sometimes. I've slowed it up to an average ten-year level. Actually, the over-all pattern of her progress is quite satisfactory." And he patted Margie's head again.Margie was disappointed. She had been hoping they would take the teacher away altogether. They had once taken Tommy's teacher away for nearly a month because the history sector had blanked out completely.So she said to Tommy, "Why would anyone write about school?"Tommy looked at her with very superior eyes. "Because it's not our kind of school, stupid. This is the old kind of school that they had hundreds and hundreds of years ago." Headded loftily, pronouncing the word carefully, "Centuries ago."Margie was hurt. "Well, I don't know what kind of school they had all that time ago." She read the book over his shoulder for a while, then said, "Anyway, they had a teacher.""Sure they had a teacher, but it wasn't a regular teacher. It was a man." "A man? How could a man be a teacher?" "Well, he just told the boys and girls things and gave them homework and asked them questions." "A man isn't smart enough." "Sure he is. My father knows as much as my teacher." "He can't. A man can't know as much as a teacher." "He knows almost as much, I betcha."Margie wasn't prepared to dispute that. She said, "1 wouldn't want a strange man in my house to teach me."Tommy screamed with laughter. "You don't know much, Margie. The teachers didn't live in the house. They had a special building and all the kids went there." "And all the kids learned the same thing?" "Sure, if they were the same age.""But my mother says a teacher has to be adjusted to fit the mind of each boy and girl it teaches and that each kid has to be taught differently.""Just the same they didn't do it that way then. If you don't like it, you don't have to read the book.""I didn't say I didn't like it," Margie said quickly. She wanted to read about those funny schools.They weren't even half-finished when Margie's mother called, "Margie! School!" Margie looked up. "Not yet, Mamma.""Now!" said Mrs. Jones. "And it's probably time for Tommy, too."Margie said to Tommy, "Can I read the book some more with you after school?""Maybe," he said nonchalantly. He walked away whistling, the dusty old book tucked beneath his arm.Margie went into the schoolroom. It was right next to her bedroom, and the mechanical teacher was on and waiting for her. It was always on at the same time every day exceptSaturday and Sunday, because her mother said little girls learned better if they learned at regular hours.The screen was lit up, and it said: "Today's arithmetic lesson is on the addition of proper fractions. Please insert yesterday's homework in the proper slot."Margie did so with a sigh. She was thinking about the old schools they had when her grandfather's grandfather was a little boy. All the kids from the whole neighborhood came, laughing and shouting in the schoolyard, sitting together in the schoolroom, going home together at the end of the day. They learned the same things, so they could help one another on the homework and talk about it.And the teachers were people...The mechanical teacher was flashing on the screen: "When we add the fractions 1/2 and 1/4..."Margie was thinking about how the kids must have loved it in the old days. She was thinking about the fun they had.。