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(1)Big houses in Ireland are, I am told, very isolated. I say “I am told" because the isolation, or loneliness of my own house is only borne in on me, from time to time, by the exclamations of travelers when they arrive. “Well,” they exclaim with a hint of denunciation, "you are a long way from everywhere!” I suppose I see this the other way round: everywhere seems to have placed itself a long way from me-if "everywhere" means shopping towns, railway stations or Ireland's principal through roads . But one's own point of departure always seems to one normal. I have grown up accustomed to seeing out of my windows nothing but grass, sky, tree, to being enclosed in a ring of almost complete silence and to making journeys for anything that I want. Actually, a main road passes my gates(though it is a main road not much travelled), my post village, which is fairy animated, is just a mile up the hill, and daily bus, now, connects this village with Cork. The motor car demolishes distances, and the telephone and wireless keep the house knit up, perhaps too much with the world. The loneliness of my house, as of many others, is more an effect than a reality. But it is the effect that is interesting.
(2)When I visit other big houses I am struck by some quality that they all have not so much isolation as mystery. Each house seems to live under its own spell, and that is the spell that falls on the visitor from the moment he passes in at the gates. The ring of woods inside the territory wall conceals, at first, the whole territory from the eye: this looks, from the road, like the woods in sleep, with a great glade inside. Inside the gates the avenue often describes loops, to make itself of still more extravagant length; it is sometimes arched by beeches, sometimes silent with moss. On each side lie those tree-studded grass spaces we Anglo-Irish call lawns and English people puzzle us by speaking of as "the park”. On these browse cattle or there may be horses out on grass. A second gate—(generally white-painted, so that one may not drive into it in the dark)-keeps these away from the house in its inner circle of trees. Having shut this clanking white gate behind one, one takes the last reach of avenue and meets the faded, dark-windowed and somehow hypnotic stare of the big house. Often a line of mountains rises above it, or a river is seen through a break in woods. But the house in its silence, seems to be contemplating the swell or fall of its own lawns.
(3)The paradox of these big houses is that often they are not big at all. Those massive detached villas outside cities probably have a greater number of rooms. We have of course in Ireland the great houses---houses Renaissance uses with superb facades, colonnades, pavilions and, inside, chains of plastered, painted saloons but the houses, that I know best, and write of, would be only called "big” in Ireland—in England they would be "country houses”, no more. They are of adequate size for a family, its dependants, a modest number of guests. They gave few annexes, they do not ramble; they are nearly always compactly square. Much of the space inside (and there is not so much space) has been sacrificed to airy halls and lobbies and to the elegant structure of staircases. Their facades (very often in the Italian manner) are not lengthy though they may be high. Is it height-in this country of otherwise low building-that got these Anglo-Irish houses their “big" name? Or have they been called "big” with a slight inflection—that of hostility, irony? One may call a man "big" with just that inflection because he seems to think the hell of himself.
(4)These houses, however, are certainly not little. Let us say that their size, like their loneliness, is an effect rather than a reality. Perhaps the wide, private spaces they occupy throw a distending reflection on to their walls. And, they were planned for spacious living for hospitality above all. Unlike the low, warm, ruddy French and English manors, they have made no natural growth from the soil-the idea that begot them was a purely social one. The functional parts of them-kitchens and offices, farm-buildings, outbuildings--were sunk underground, concealed by walls or by trees; only stables ( for horses ranked very highly) emerged to view, as suavely planned as the house.

In this section, there are ten incomplete statements or questions, followed by four choices marked A, B, C and D. Choose the best answer and write the corresponding letter on your Answer Sheet.

(1) The man had never believed in mere utility.
(2) Having had no useful work, he indulged in mad whims. He made little pieces of sculpture—men, women and castle, quaint earthen things dotted over with sea-shells. He painted. Thus he wasted his time on all that was useless, needless. People laughed at him. At times he vowed to shake off his whims, but they lingered in his mind.
(3) Some boys seldom ply their books and yet pass their tests. A similar thing happened to this man. He spent his earth life in useless work and yet after his death the gates of Heaven opened wide for him.
(4) But mistakes are unavoidable even in Heaven. So it came to pass that the aerial messenger who took charge of the man made a mistake and found him a place in Workers’ Paradise.
(5) In this Paradise you find everything except leisure.
(6) Here men say: “God! We haven’t a moment to spare.” Women whisper: “Let’s move on, time’s a-flying.” All exclaim: “Time is precious.” “We have our hands full, we make use of every single minute,” they sigh complainingly, and yet those words make them happy and exalted.
(7) But this newcomer, who had passed all his life on Earth without doing a scrap of useful work, did not fit in with the scheme of things in Workers’ Paradise. He lounged in the streets absently and jostled the hurrying men. He lay down in green meadows, or close to the fast flowing streams, and was taken to task by busy farmers. He was always in the way of others.
(8) A hustling girl went every day to a silent torrent (silent, since in the Workers’ Paradise even a torrent would not waste its energy singing) to fill her pitcher.
(9) The girl’s movement on the road was like the rapid movement of a skilled hand on the strings of a guitar. Her hair was carelessly done; inquisitive wisps stooped often over her forehead to peer at the dark wonder of her eye.
(10) The idler was standing by the stream. As a princess sees a lonely beggar and is filled with pity, so the busy girl of Heaven saw this one and was filled with pity.
(11 ) “A—ha !” she cried with concern. “You have no work in hand, have you?”
(12) The man sighed, “Work! I have not a moment to spare for work.”
(13) The girl did not understand his words, and said: “I shall spare some work for you to do, if you like.”
(14) The man replied: “Girl of the silent torrent, all this time I have been waiting to take some work from your hands.”
(15) “What kind of work would you like?”
(16) “Will you give me one of your pitchers, one that you can spare?”
(17) She asked: “A pitcher? You want to draw water from the torrent?”
(18) “No, I shall draw pictures on your pitcher.”
(19) The girl was annoyed.
(20) “Pictures, indeed! I have no time to waste on such as you. I am going.” And she walked away.
(21) But how could a busy person get the better of one who had nothing to do? Every day they met, and every day he said to her: “Girl of the silent torrent, give me one of your clay pitchers. I shall draw pictures on it.”
(22) She yielded at last. She gave him one of her pitchers. The man started painting. He drew line after line; he put color after color.
(23) When he had completed his work, the girl held up the pitcher and stared at its sides, her eyes puzzled. Brows drawn, she asked: “What do they mean, all those lines and colors? What is their purpose?”
(24) The man laughed.
(25) “Nothing. A picture may have no meaning and may serve no purpose.”
(26) The girl went away with her pitcher. At home, away from prying eyes, she held it in the light, turned it round and round and scanned the painting from all angles. At night she moved out of bed, lighted a lamp and scanned it again in silence. For the first time in her life she had seen something that had no meaning and no purpose at all.
(27) When she set out for the torrent the next day, her hurrying feet were a little less hurried than before. For a new sense seemed to have wakened in her, a sense that seemed to have no meaning and no purpose at all.
(28) She saw the painter standing by the torrent and asked in confusion: “What do you want of me?”
(29) “Only some more work from your hands.”
(30) “What kind of work would you like?”
(31) “Let me make a colored ribbon for your hair,” he answered.
(32) “And what for?”
(33) “Nothing.”
(34) Ribbons were made, bright with colors. The busy girl of Workers’ Paradise had now to spend a lot of time every day tying the colored ribbon around her hair. The minutes slipped by, unutilized. Much work was left unfinished.
(35) In Workers’ Paradise work had of late begun to suffer. Many persons who had been active before were now idle, wasting their precious time on useless things such as painting and sculpture. The elders became anxious. A meeting was called. All agreed that such a state of affairs had so far been unknown in the history of Workers’ Paradise.
(36) The aerial messenger hurried in, bowing before the elders and made a confession.
(37) “I brought a wrong man into this Paradise,” he said. “It is all due to him.”
(38) The man was summoned. As he came the elders saw his fantastic dress, his quaint brushes, his paints, and they knew at once that he was not the right sort for Workers’ Paradise.
(39) Stiffly the President said: “This is no place for the like of you. You must leave.”
(40) The man sighed in relief and gathered up his brush and paint. But as he was about to go, the girl of the silent torrent came up tripping and cried: “Wait a moment. I shall go with you.”
(41) The elders gasped in surprise. Never before had a thing like this happened in Workers’ Paradise—a thing that had no meaning and no purpose at all.

阅读文章，回答下列问题。

阅读文章，回答下列问题。

In this section, there are ten incomplete statements or questions, followed by four choices marked A, B, C and D. Choose the best answer and write the corresponding letter on your Answer Sheet. 

阅读文章，回答下列问题。

(1)Education is an important theme in youth athletics in the US. Young kids, energetic, noisy, uncontrollable, confined to class, yearn for the relative freedom of the football field, the basketball court, the baseball diamond. They long to kick and throw things and tackle each other, and the fields of organized play offer a place in which to act out these impulses. Kids are basically encouraged, after all, to beat each other up in the football field. Yet for all the chaos, adult guidance and supervision are never far off, and time spent on the athletic fields is meant to be productive. Conscientious coaches seek to impart lessons in teamwork, self-sacrifice competition, gracious winning and losing, Teachers at least want their pupils worn out so they'll sit still in reading class.
(2)By the time children start competing for spots on junior high soccer teams or tennis squads, the kid gloves have come off to some extent. The athletic fields become less a place to learn about soft values like teamwork than about hard self-discipline and competition. Competitive, after all, is prized highly by Americans, perhaps more so than by other peoples. For a child, being cut from the hockey team or denied a spot on the swimming is a grave disappointment—and perhaps an opportunity for emotional or spiritual growth.
(3)High school basketball or football teams are places where the ethos of competition is given still stronger emphasis. Although high school coaches still consider themselves educators, the sports they oversee are not simple extensions of the classroom. They are important social-institutions, for football games bring people together. In much of the US they are events where young people and their elders mingle and see how the community is evolving.
(4)For the best players, the progression from little league to junior high to high school leads to a scholarship at a famous college and maybe, one day, a shot at the pros. To all appearances, college athletes are student-athletes, an ideal that suggests a balance between the intellectual rigors of the university and the physical rigors of the playing field. The reality is skewed (倾斜)heavily in favor of athletics. One would have difficulty showing that major US college sports are about education. Coaches require far too much of players' time to be truly concerned with anything other than performance in sport. Too often. the players they recruit seem to care little about school themselves.
(5)This was not always the case. Universities--Princeton, Harvard, Rutgers, Yale—were the birthplaces of American football and baseball; education— the formation of"character"—was an important part of what those coaches and players thought they were achieving. In 1913, when football was almost outlawed in the US, the game’s most prominent figures traveled to Washington and argued successfully that football was an essential part of the campus experience and that the nation would be robbed of its boldest young men, its best potential leaders, if the game were banned.
(6)The idea that competitive sports build character, a western tradition dating from ancient Greece, has evidently fallen out of fashion in today’s US. Educators, now prone to see the kind of character shaped by football and basketball in dark light, have challenged the notion that college sports produce interesting people. Prominent athletes, such as boxer Muhammad Ali and basketball star Charles Markley, deliberately distanced themselves from the earlier ideal of the athlete as a model figure. Today's US athlete is thus content to be an entertainer. Trying to do something socially constructive,like being a role model, will make you seem over-earnest and probably hurt your street credibility.
(7)When I was a kid, my heroes played on Saturdays: they were high school players and college athletes. Pro play games, broadeast on Sunday afternoons, were dull and uninspiring by comparison. After all, why would God schedule anything important for Sunday? You've got school the next day.
(8)Although I certainly couldn't have articulated it at the time, I think I must already have sensed that throwing a ball or catching passes was a fairly pointless thing to be good at. In the grand scheme, it was a silly preparation for a job. Yet playing sports was not pointless; the point, however, was that you were learning something—a disposition, a certain virtue, a capacity of arduous endeavor —that might be of value when you later embarked upon a productive career as a doctor or a schoolteacher or a businessman.The optimism of those Saturday afternoons was infectious. I still feel that way today.

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(1) If Ron Scott was in any doubt about the effect of being unhappy at work, he needed only to ask his family. The usually easy-going, good-humored husband and father of three had become an irritable man who was working his way through "a minimum six beers a night. Some nights I'd have wine as well”. Any little thing that went wrong at home got under his skin. "I'd go off. My son wouldn't put his school bags away and I'd be yelling at him or I’d be yelling at the girls for something.”
(2) It wasn't work itself that was getting to Ron, far from it. He's always worked and doesn't like to be idle. At 16 he left school and applied for a job at a nearby steelworks. He had wanted to become a carpenter but instead was offered an apprenticeship as a fitter and machinist—the same job that his father had had. "I didn’t enjoy metalwork at school, but I said, ‘Yeah, that'll do.’” He shrugged off the disappointment and made the best of things, working hard during his four-year apprenticeship and for three years after that, until a restructure made his position redundant.
(3) He bought a car with the small payout he received, gave himself seven weeks’ holiday, then started a new job as a mechanical engineer for a major international airline. This involved a commute of an hour or so each way, but that was manageable. The new role, fixing military then civilian aircraft engines, was satisfying. "It was interesting and I liked learning a new job. It was good.”
(4) Eighteen months into the new position at the airline, Ron married Sharon and 18 months after that their first child was born. He was working his way up the ladder, getting pay-rises as he went, and the conditions suited family life—rather than the 24/7 shifts of the steelworks, he was able to work five days a week on day-shift.
(5)As his children reached school age, Ron volunteered to help out at their sporting activities especially at junior lifesaving, where his sense of fun and endless patience made him a firm favorite with kids and parents. He was by now an engine marshal, an administrative role that involves supervising the acquisition of parts and the repair and assembly of huge jet engines.
(6) "I loved it,” he says, explaining with a self-deprecatory chuckle that despite having been a fitter and engineer all those years, "I’m not very patient when it comes to putting things together. If it doesn't go right I get annoyed. So it was good just being able to chill a little bit more.”
(7) Life was good, but 15 years into the job, things started to change.
(8) First Ron's team was moved to a much smaller building where they were cramped amid the engine parts. Characteristically, he made the best of it, but he wasn't enjoying work as he once had. Then, without consultation, he was put back on a rolling shift roster. "I hated it because of all the things I was missing out on, "he says, "I was coaching my son Harry's soccer team and was involved at the surf club but I had to stop all that because I was back on shift work.”
(9) Rumors began to circulate about redundancies. Ron told Sharon that if they were offered he was considering applying. "She was pretty happy because I was coming home so cranky". Over the next few weeks they discussed the kinds of things Ron might move on to. One idea just wouldn't leave him alone. "I said, ‘How about I go and teach swimming? I love water. I love kids. I could probably do that.’”
(10)After 20 years with the airline Ron took voluntary redundancy, received a five-figure payout and walked away without a second glance. He completed swimming-teacher training, and then arranged to volunteer at a swim school to build up his practical experience. Soon the school was employing him for a shift a week, and his hours built up from there.
(11) Coming from a job where the results were immediate and obvious took some adjustment for Ron. "It was different from what I thought it would be, he says, "I thought it was going to be so easy. But you're trying to teach the kids something and half the time they’re looking at you and you don’t even know if they’re listening. Then weeks or months later they will put it into action and you'll realize that they were listening all along." Ron's easy manner with both children and parents soon paid off and he became a full-time employee at the swim school.
(12) The 40 hours he works a week takes in weekends and split shifts, to cover morning and afternoon children’s classes. He has "no body hair left because of the warm water and chlorine”. He earns around 25% less than he did in engineering. And, at 49, he says he has never been happier.
(13) “I’ve had a drop in pay, but I’ve cut back on expenses, too. I'm driving half the distance to work so don’t have to pay as much for petrol. I don’t drink nearly as much. I go walking in my lunch break and I've lost 20 kilos. I love going to work. The whole family is a lot happier.”
(14) He admits it was scary, making such big leap when there was the mortgage to pay and teenagers to clothe and feed but in the end he feels it is a simple choice. "If you're in a job you don’t like, get out. Money's not everything. You might have to stop doing a few things, but you do adjust. If you don't like it, change—find something you're going to be happy with.” 

      (1) A rift is growing between government and higher education, with debates over funding, missions and accountability.
      (2) In that context, it is all the more worth watching Indiana Governor Mitch Daniels, who assumes the presidency of Purdue University on January 14. Other governors have become college presidents. Some, like Tom Kean, have been very successful. However, Daniels—who brings to the job an unusual blend of leadership experiences in government at the state and national level, public policy, business, and now academe—is coming to office at a time of unusual tension.
      (3) Governors increasingly characterize the rising costs of higher education and its limited access as unsustainable. Many find it imperative that universities increase their productivity, affordability, access, graduation rates, and accountability. In contrast, university presidents say that quality, not cost, is the real issue in an era in which excellence in higher education is more urgent than ever before in history. The question, academic leaders say, should not be the price of college, but who pays, criticizing government for disinvesting in higher education. Bottom line: Between the governors and the presidents, there is increasingly little if any common ground other than recognizing the importance of higher education. They have entirely different views of the problem, no agreement on responsibility, and nothing in the way of a shared solution.
      (4) In his first public action as president of Purdue, Daniels has bridged the chasm with a salary package that incorporates the goals of both the governors and the presidents. He did this in two ways. The first was conciliatory, eliminating the red flag that sets off both government and the academy: He rejected presidential salary inflation. His salary package is smaller than his predecessor’s, placing him tenth among the 12 Big Ten university presidents in terms of salary. There is no deferred compensation.
      (5) Second, and more importantly in terms of national models, is that Governor Daniels asked for a salary based upon achieving his goals for the university. The package is divided into two buckets—base salary and bonus. The bonus is tied to graduation rates, affordability, student achievement, philanthropic support, faculty excellence, and strategic program initiatives. In establishing this bonus system, Daniels married traditional notions of academic quality—as measured by excellence in faculty, programs and resources—with an equal emphasis on effective outcomes and price controls: graduation rates, affordability, and student achievement.
      (6) In so doing, Daniels has demonstrated his belief that there is common ground to be found between the university and government. The choice is not quality or effectiveness, not excellence or affordability; the future of higher education is not a zero-sum game in which one side wins and the other loses. Rather, he believes it is possible to balance the seemingly conflicting goals of government and higher education.
      (7) Daniels is not the first president to have his salary tied to achieving institutional goals, but he is probably the most visible. Moreover, although Daniels is renouncing involvement in partisan politics as he enters the Purdue presidency, he is a former Republican governor and party leader known as a frugal fiscal conservative. Historically, the divisions have been greater between Republicans and the academy than has been the case with Democrats. In a very real sense, what Daniels has chosen to do is somewhat akin to Nixon going to China. He has undertaken an experiment to be closely watched. If successful, he will have established a potential model for the country.
      (8) Typically, presidents reserve such powerful statements for their inaugural addresses. Though such addresses are sincere in intent—I can vouch for that, as someone who has given two and listened to many more—they are generally aspirational; they articulate hopes and dreams for what an institution can become. Daniels has already done something very different. He is putting himself on the line in a very public fashion. Year after year his salary will be determined by his success. And perhaps even more importantly, his success or failure will be public when his board announces the size and rationale for his bonus.
      (9) It’s a bold step—and Governor Daniels should be applauded for taking it. 

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    (1) When I started working from home some months ago, I had not anticipated the challenges involved.
    (2) The first was to tell people that I am working from home. I’ve had to explain my work arrangement to my neighbors, who wondered why I was raking leaves or shoveling snow in the mid-afternoon. I've described it to door-to-door canvassers, relatives, friends, the gas meter reader, the mail carrier and the parents of children in the kindergarten school yard.
    (3) The people who’ve had the most difficulty in understanding my new work setup are my family. My five-year-old twins, Claire and Alexander, keep asking, with some apprehension, “Daddy, why don’t you go to work?” My response, “But I am working, just from home” completely baffles them and they gaze at me with an expression unique to children: Daddy says the funniest things.”
    (4) The second challenge has been the additional demands, mostly from my wife. Her phone calls from her office invariably begin with the four words I’ve come to dread: “Since you’re at home ...” Her assumption, and that of others, is that since I’m at home between 9 and 5, I can easily take care of last-minute shopping, arrange for deliveries and drop-offs, orchestrate play dates for the twins, and respond to financial, medical, educational and home maintenance matters for our family.
    (5) The result is that by working from home I’ve taken on a host of new duties, in addition to those mandated by my employer. Over the past six months, our home has acquired a new roof - an upgraded electrical system and a long list of interior and exterior home improvements.
    (6) The third and most complex challenge is the expectations of my children. Claire and Alexander seem unable to grasp that having a stay-at-home dad is not the same as having a gainfully employed stay-at-home dad. Invariably they need to consult with me on any disagreement or matter that arises after returning home from their daily 2.5 hours of morning senior kindergarten.
    (7) I imagined that a few words of wisdom from me would quickly settle them back to their routine with our caregiver. However, I came to realize that resolving a dispute over the ownership of a particular pencil is akin to taking a case to the Supreme Court of Canada. It takes a lot of time, and any outcome can and will be appealed.
    (8) The fourth challenge, at first trivial but less so as time passed, is that my basement office, which was to be my sacrosanct work space, became a storage room. My real office (as everyone in my family calls it) at York University is a marvel of cleanliness and organization. My home office which I suppose everyone saw as not being real—is now a warren of not-quite discarded or returned items: boxes of old books and clothes, long-forgotten toys, diseased plants, sports equipment and sundry unused or defective home-repair materials.
    (9) Claire and Alexander see the space as an extension of their playroom, especially suited for hide-and-seek, with the added feature of expensive electronic equipment.
    (10) Over the months, I have met others working from home. We’ve crossed paths at the local coffee shop, seeking human contact after spending hours alone in our respective homes. From them, I learned different strategies.
    (11) One is to act as though you are still working at the “real” office. Those who practice this approach dress in business attire in the morning, carry briefcases and use their BlackBerrys at all times, making it quite clear to everyone in their vicinity that “I’m working, so don’t bother me.” I tried to ask them if this strategy was effective with family members, like young children, but they’ve never given me the opportunity for such idle chatter.
    (12) Although appealing, for me this strategy takes away one of the biggest advantages of working from home. Before starting this arrangement, I had imagined a host of benefits including increased productivity, more flexibility and fewer interruptions.
    (13) In reality, few advantages materialized other than being able to avoid commuting and spending less time on my personal appearance each morning. Therefore, I’m loath to switch from my old sweat pants and sneakers to a tie and suit, or to shave every day, in order to look like I’m working.
    (14) Another strategy is to begin any conversation with “I’m working from home. This ensures the listener, and everyone around, knows. I tried this, but found it had unintended consequences. The follow-up question is always, “What are you working on?” I reply that I am writing a scholarly book on retirement and pension policies in South Korea. This swiftly terminates any conversation and leaves me standing alone.
    (15) I’ll leave this approach for those writing—at home—the next blockbuster Hollywood screenplay.
    (16) The strategy I’ve settled on is what many others working at home also gravitate toward; namely, a vague and generic, “Well, you know, I’m doing some work at home. Any follow-up questions are skillfully deflected by witty observations about the weather, politics or sports. This leaves a mysterious aura around my activities.
    (17) Now that I'm preparing to return to my “real” office next week，the most important lesson I've learned is that when I'm next given the opportunity to work from home, I'll make sure no one knows I'm working ... from home. 

In this section, there are ten incomplete statements or questions, followed by four choices marked A, B, C and D. Choose the best answer and blacken the corresponding letter on your Answer Sheet.(20 points, 2 points for each)

(1) The professor glanced hastily around the room as he entered, then he looked suspiciously over at the blackboard. While removing his overcoat he read the scrawl that the previous class had left, and judging it unnecessary clutter, he daintily lifted the eraser and waved it back and forth in front of the class, until the board was clear. He checked his watch. It wasn't yet time to start class, so the teacher started to pace back and forth, nervously stroking the lock of hair that covered his bald spot. This man had obviously been sitting in a stuffy office in front of a computer screen for too long. Math professors should get out in the sun more. I noticed his pale skin and the many nicks he’d gotten shaving his overly-sensitive face.
(2) Finally it was time to start. He began by presenting an example: you want to house a football team with 20 white players and 20 black players. What is the probability that all of the pairs of roommates will be of the same color? “A hundred percent”, I said. Okay. I know it was a poor attempt at humor, but I could have sworn no one had heard me. Not one person flinched, sighed, moaned, or giggled. Nothing. They didn’t even turn their heads to see what jerk said that.
(3) “Okay, either everybody in this class is dead, or I am” I thought. I pinched myself. No, it wasn’t me. I watched everyone else copy down what the teacher had written on the board. So they were at least animate. The professor was doing a good job of dealing with the dilemma and posed questions at which a few members of the group guessed. I wondered why he was being paid to talk to corpses.
(4) Yes, something was definitely wrong here. This man was talking to 30 dead people who were diligently copying down his every word. Now the only reason I could see for the lack of response, by his audience was that they didn't share my interest in probability. That seemed reasonable but I couldn’t imagine why anyone would take a 400-level math course unless he was a math major, or at least a math minor. No, these people were interested in the topic.
(5) Maybe they all understood exactly what he was saying and didn't have to ask any questions. I still couldn’t explain the blank stares and the silence, as heavy as the silence of parting lovers, whenever the professor asked a question. The room was too big for the quiet and I felt awkward there. Everyone seemed to want to leave, but there he was, the man up there with the chalk holding the whole class silent and holding all of us hostage.
(6) All of these tortured faces were looking straight ahead and they were taking it all down, just like it was, so that they could go back to their little cells and look at it over and over again until they had it memorized. And if they couldn't understand it, they would ask someone else in the class who would invariably say, “I don’t know. I’m not sure I understand that part either.”
(7) Nobody ever goes to a teacher’s office hours, either. I’ve gone to see my teachers, and there’s never anyone else there. The professor sets up time when he can sit and wait for students to talk to him and no one shows up, week after week. It’s nice because teachers are human, too, and they need time alone. I guess that zombies don’t leave their cells unless they have class. I looked over at the people next to me. How did they get that way in the first place?
(8) What in the world was I doing in this ridiculous class, writing down a description of the teacher’s clothing? I was listening to the words, and I even had some vague comprehension of what he was discussing, but I really couldn’t explain my attendance. But what I really couldn’t explain was the professor’s presence. He seemed to have a good sense of humor about the fact that we were all sitting there dead, but I don’t know how he could face us that way. I kept wanting to get up and shout at the class myself, say, “Hey, what are you doing here? Aren’t you paying for this? Didn’t you come here to learn? I couldn’t face these zombies as boldly as this man was. He didn’t scream or despair. He just kept on talking. And I kept on thinking: This is an institution of higher learning.” 

In this section, there are ten incomplete statements or questions, followed by four choices marked A, B, C and D. Choose the best answer and write the corresponding letter on your Answer Sheet. 

阅读文章，回答下列问题。

(1) Freedom’s challenge in the Atomic Age is a sobering topic. We are facing today a strange new world and we are all wondering what we are going to do with it. What are we going to do with one of our most precious possessions, freedom? The world we know, our Western world, began with something as new as the conquest of space.
(2) Some 2,500 years ago Greece discovered freedom. Before that there was no freedom. There were great civilizations, splendid empires, but no freedom anywhere. Egypt, Babylon, Nineveh, were all tyrannies, one immensely powerful man ruling over helpless masses. In Greece, in Athens, a little city in a little country, there were no helpless masses, and a time came when the Athenians were led by a great man who did not want to be powerful. Absolute obedience to the ruler was what the leaders of the empires insisted on. Athens said no, there must never be absolute obedience to a man except in war. There must be willing obedience to what is good for all. Pericles, the great Athenian statesman, said: “We are a free government, but we obey the laws, more especially those which protect the oppressed, and the unwritten laws which, if broken, bring shame.”
(3) Athenians willingly obeyed the written laws which they themselves passed, and the unwritten, which must be obeyed if free men live together. They must show each other kindness and pity and the many qualities without which life would be intolerable except to a hermit in the desert. The Athenians never thought that a man was free if he could do what he wanted. A man was free if he was self-controlled. To make yourself obey what you approved was freedom. They were saved from looking at their lives as their own private affair. Each one felt responsible for the welfare of Athens, not because it was imposed on him from the outside, but because the city was his pride and his safety. The creed of the first free government in the world was liberty for all men who could control themselves and would take responsibility for the state. This was the conception that underlay the lofty reach of Greek genius.
(4) But discovering freedom is not like discovering atomic bombs. It cannot be discovered once for all. If people do not prize it, and work for it, it will depart. Eternal vigilance is its price. Athens changed. It was a change that took place unnoticed though it was of the utmost importance, a spiritual change which penetrated the whole state. It had been the Athenians’ pride and joy to give to their city. That they could get material benefits from her never entered their minds. There had to be a complete change of attitude before they could look at the city as an employer who paid her citizens for doing her work. Now instead of men giving to their state, the state was to give to them. What the people wanted was a government which would provide a comfortable life for them; and with this as the foremost object, ideas of freedom and self-reliance and responsibility were obscured to the point of disappearing. Athens was more and more looked on as a cooperative business possessed of great wealth in which all citizens had a right to share.
(5) She reached the point when the freedom she really wanted was freedom from responsibility. There could be only one result. If men insisted on being free from the burden of self-dependence and responsibility for the common good, they would cease to be free. Responsibility is the price every man must pay for freedom. It is to be had on no other terms. Athens, the Athens of Ancient Greece, refused responsibility, she reached the end of freedom and was never to have it again.
(6) But, “the excellent becomes the permanent,” Aristotle said. Athens lost freedom forever, but freedom was not lost forever for the world. A great American statesman, James Madison, in or near the year 1776 A.D. referred to “the capacity of mankind for self-government”. No doubt he had not an idea that he was speaking Greek. Athens was not in the farthest background of his mind, but once a great and good idea has dawned upon man, it is never completely lost. The Atomic Age cannot destroy it. Somehow in this or that man’s thought such an idea lives though unconsidered by the world of action. One can never be sure that it is not on the point of breaking out into action, only sure that it will do so sometime.

(1) The professor glanced hastily around the room as he entered, then he looked suspiciously over at the blackboard. While removing his overcoat he read the scrawl that the previous class had left, and judging it unnecessary clutter, he daintily lifted the eraser and waved it back and forth in front of the class, until the board was clear. He checked his watch. It wasn't yet time to start class, so the teacher started to pace back and forth, nervously stroking the lock of hair that covered his bald spot. This man had obviously been sitting in a stuffy office in front of a computer screen for too long. Math professors should get out in the sun more. I noticed his pale skin and the many nicks he’d gotten shaving his overly-sensitive face.
(2) Finally it was time to start. He began by presenting an example: you want to house a football team with 20 white players and 20 black players. What is the probability that all of the pairs of roommates will be of the same color? “A hundred percent”, I said. Okay. I know it was a poor attempt at humor, but I could have sworn no one had heard me. Not one person flinched, sighed, moaned, or giggled. Nothing. They didn’t even turn their heads to see what jerk said that.
(3) “Okay, either everybody in this class is dead, or I am” I thought. I pinched myself. No, it wasn’t me. I watched everyone else copy down what the teacher had written on the board. So they were at least animate. The professor was doing a good job of dealing with the dilemma and posed questions at which a few members of the group guessed. I wondered why he was being paid to talk to corpses.
(4) Yes, something was definitely wrong here. This man was talking to 30 dead people who were diligently copying down his every word. Now the only reason I could see for the lack of response, by his audience was that they didn't share my interest in probability. That seemed reasonable but I couldn’t imagine why anyone would take a 400-level math course unless he was a math major, or at least a math minor. No, these people were interested in the topic.
(5) Maybe they all understood exactly what he was saying and didn't have to ask any questions. I still couldn’t explain the blank stares and the silence, as heavy as the silence of parting lovers, whenever the professor asked a question. The room was too big for the quiet and I felt awkward there. Everyone seemed to want to leave, but there he was, the man up there with the chalk holding the whole class silent and holding all of us hostage.
(6) All of these tortured faces were looking straight ahead and they were taking it all down, just like it was, so that they could go back to their little cells and look at it over and over again until they had it memorized. And if they couldn't understand it, they would ask someone else in the class who would invariably say, “I don’t know. I’m not sure I understand that part either.”
(7) Nobody ever goes to a teacher’s office hours, either. I’ve gone to see my teachers, and there’s never anyone else there. The professor sets up time when he can sit and wait for students to talk to him and no one shows up, week after week. It’s nice because teachers are human, too, and they need time alone. I guess that zombies don’t leave their cells unless they have class. I looked over at the people next to me. How did they get that way in the first place?
(8) What in the world was I doing in this ridiculous class, writing down a description of the teacher’s clothing? I was listening to the words, and I even had some vague comprehension of what he was discussing, but I really couldn’t explain my attendance. But what I really couldn’t explain was the professor’s presence. He seemed to have a good sense of humor about the fact that we were all sitting there dead, but I don’t know how he could face us that way. I kept wanting to get up and shout at the class myself, say, “Hey, what are you doing here? Aren’t you paying for this? Didn’t you come here to learn? I couldn’t face these zombies as boldly as this man was. He didn’t scream or despair. He just kept on talking. And I kept on thinking: This is an institution of higher learning.” 

阅读文章，回答下列问题。

(1)Why do the Chinese dislike milk and milk products? Why do some nations trace descent through the father, others through the different instincts? Not because they were destined by God or Fate to different habits, not because the weather is different in China and the United States. Sometimes keen common sense has an answer that is close to that of the anthropologist: "Because they were brought up that way." By "culture" anthropology means the total life way of a people, the social legacy the individual acquires from his group. Or culture can be regarded as that part of the environment that is the creation of man.
(2)This technical term has a wider meaning than the "culture" of history and literature. A humble cooking pot is as much a cultural product as is a Beethoven sonata. In ordinary speech a man of culture is a man who can speak languages other than his own, who is familiar with history, literature, philosophy, or the fine arts. In some circles that definition is still narrower. The cultured person is one who can talk about James Joyce, Scarlatti, and Picasso. To the anthropologist, however, to be human is to be cultured. The general abstract notion serves to remind us that we cannot explain acts solely in terms of the biological properties of the people concerned, their individual past experience, and the immediate situation. The past experience of other men in the form of culture enters into almost every event. Each specific culture constitutes a kind of blueprint for all of life's activities.

(3)One of the interesting things about human beings is that they try to understand themselves and their own behavior. While this has been particularly true of Europeans in recent times, there is no group which has not developed a scheme or schemes to explain man's actions. To the insistent human question "Why?" the most exciting illumination anthropology has to offer is that of the concept of culture. Its explanatory importance is comparable to categories such as evolution in biology, gravity in physics, disease in medicine. A good deal of human behavior can be understood, and indeed predicted, if we know a people's design for living. Many acts are neither accidental nor due to personal peculiarities nor caused by supernatural forces nor simply mysterious. Even those of us who pride ourselves on our individualism follow most of the times a pattern not of our own making. We brush our teeth on arising. We put on pants -not a loincloth or a grass skirt. We eat three meals a day-not four or five or two. We sleep in a bed -not in a hammock or on a sheep pelt. I do not have to know the individual and his life history to be able to predict these and countless other regularities, including many in the thinking process, of all Americans who are not locked up in jails or hospitals for the insane.
(4)To the American woman a system of plural wives seems "instinctively" hateful. She cannot understand how any woman can fail to be jealous and uncomfortable if she must share her husband with other women. She feels it "unnatural" to accept such a situation. On the other hand, a Koryak woman of Siberia. For example, would find it hard to understand how a woman could be so selfish and so undesirous of feminine companionship in the home as to wish to restrict her husband to one mate.
(5)Some years ago I met in New York City a young man who did not speak a word of English and was obviously bewildered by American ways. By "blood" he was an American, for his parents had gone from Indiana to China as missionaries. Orphaned in infancy he was reared by a Chinese family in a remote village. All who met him found him more Chinese than American. The facts of his blue eyes and light hair were less impressive than a Chinese manner of walking, Chinese arm and hand movements, Chinese facial expression, and Chinese modes of thought. The biological heritage was American, but the cultural training had been Chinese. He returned to China.
(6) A highly intelligent teacher with long and successful experience in the public schools of Chicago was finishing her first year in an Indian school. When asked how her Navaho pupils compared in intelligence with Chicago youngsters, she replied, "Well, I just don't know. Sometimes the Indians seem just as bright. At other times they just act like dumb animals. The other night we had a dance in the high school. I saw a boy who is one of the best students in my English class standing off by himself. So I took him over to a pretty girl and told him to dance. But they just stood there with their heads down. They wouldn't even say anything." I inquired if she knew whether or not they were members of the same clan." What difference would that make?"
(7) "How would you feel about getting into bed with your brother?" The teacher walked off in a fit of anger, but, actually the two cases were quite comparable in principle. To the Indians the type of bodily contact involved in our social dancing has a directly sexual connotation. The incest taboos between members of the same clan are as severe as between true brothers and sisters. The shame of the Indians at the suggestion that a clan brother and sister should dance and the indignation of the white teacher at the idea that she should share a bed with an adult brother represent equally nonrational responses, culturally standardized unreason.