21世纪大学英语课文翻译unit1教案资料.doc

21世纪大学英语课文翻译unit1

精品文档
Unit 1   Book 3      
Do you remember your first love? All those exciting and wonderful new emotions – the way your heart raced when that special person was near – those anxious, awkward moments when you didn't know what to say or do? And then (for most of us) that sad moment when for one reason or another it all came to an end … Ernest Hemingway once said, "Every love story ends as a tragedy" – but the authors of the texts in this unit have a different point of view. Text A focuses on the unexpected side effects of the author's first venture into romance, while Text B recalls the ups and downs of the author's great love for … his car! Finally, the authors of Text C offer some fascinating advice about how to successfully navigate romantic relationships.
Text A   How I Got Smart
    A common misconception among youngsters attending school is that their teachers were child prodigies. Who else but a bookworm, with none of the normal kid's tendency to play rather than study, would grow up to be a teacher anyway?
    I've tried desperately to explain to my students that the image they have of me as an enthusiastic devotee of books and homework during my adolescence was a bit out of focus. On the contrary, I hated compulsory education with a passion. I could never quite accept the notion of having to go to school while the fish were biting.
But in my sophomore year, something beautiful and exciting happened. Cupid aimed his arrow and struck me right in the heart. All at once, I enjoyed going to school, if only to gaze at the lovely face in English II.
    My princess sat near the pencil sharpener, and that year I ground up enough pencils to fuel a campfire. Alas, Debbie was far beyond my wildest dreams. We were separated not only by five rows of desks, but by about 50 I.Q. points. She was the top student in English II, the apple of Mrs. Larrivee's eye.
    Occasionally, Debbie would catch me staring at her, and she would flash a smile that radiated intelligence and quickened my heartbeat. It was a smile that signaled hope and made me temporarily forget the intellectual gulf that separated us.
    I schemed desperately to bridge that gulf. And one day, as I was passing the supermarket, an idea came to me. A sign in the window announced that the store was offering the first volume of a set of encyclopedias at the special price of 29 cents. The remaining volumes would cost $2.49 each.
    I purchased Volume I -- Aardvark to Asteroid -- and began my venture into the world of knowledge. I would henceforth become a seeker of facts. I would become Chief Brain in English II and sweep my princess off her feet with a surge of erudition. I had it all planned.
    My first opportunity came one day in the cafeteria line. I looked behind me and there she was.
    “Hi,” she said.
    After a pause, I wet my lips and said, “Know where anchovies come from?”
    She seemed surprised. “No, I don't.”
    I breathed a sigh of relief. “The anchovy lives in salt water and is rarely found in fresh water.” I had to talk fast, so that I could get all the facts in before we reached the cash register. “Fishermen catch anchovies in the Mediterranean Sea and along the Atlantic coast near Spain and Portugal.”
    “How fascinating,” said Debbie, shaking her head in disbelief. It was obvious that I had made quite an impression.
    A few days later, during a fire drill, I casually went up to her and asked, “Ever been to the Aleutian Islands?”
    “Never have,” she replied.
    “Might be a nice place to visit, but I certainly wouldn't want to live there,” I said.
    “Why not?” said Debbie, playing right into my hands.
    “Well, the climate is forbidding. There are no trees on any of the 100 or more islands in the group. The ground is rocky and very little plant life can grow on it.”
    “I don't think I'd even care to visit,” she said.
    The fire drill was over and we began to file into the building, so I had to step it up to get the natives in. “The Aleuts are short and sturdy and have dark skin and black hair. They live on fish, and they trap blue foxes and seals for their valuable fur.”
    Debbie's eyes widened in amazement.
    One day I was browsing through the library. I spotted Debbie sitting at a table, absorbed in a crossword puzzle. She was frowning, apparently stumped on a word. I leaned over and asked if I could help.
    “Four-letter word for Oriental female servant,” Debbie said.
    “Try amah,” I said, quick as a flash.
    Debbie filled in the blanks, then turned to stare at me in amazement. “I don't believe it,” she said. “I just don't believe it.”
    And so it went, that glorious, joyous, romantic sophomore year. Debbie seemed to relish our little conversations and hung on my every word. Naturally, the more I read, the more my confidence grew.
    In the classroom, too, I was gradually making my presence felt. One day, during a discussion of Coleridge's “The Ancient Mariner”, we came across the word albatross.
    “Can anyone tell us what an albatross is?” asked Mrs. Larrivee.
    My hand shot up. “The albatross is a large bird that lives mostly in the ocean regions below the equator, but may be found in the north Pacific as well. The albatross measures as long as four feet and has the greatest wingspread of any bird. It feeds on fish and shellfish. The albatross has an enormous appetite, and when it's full it has trouble getting into the air again.”
    There was a long silence in the room. Mrs. Larrivee couldn't quite believe what she had just heard. I sneaked a look at Debbie and gave her a big wink. She beamed proudly and winked back.
    What I failed to perceive was that Debbie all this while was going steady with a junior from a neighboring school -- a basketball player with a C+ average. The revelation hit me hard, and for a while I felt like forgetting everything I had learned. I had saved enough money to buy Volume II --Asthma to Bullfinch -- but was strongly tempted to invest in a basketball instead.
    I felt not only hurt, but betrayed. Like Agamemnon, but with less drastic consequences, thank God.
    In time I recovered from my wounds. The next year Debbie moved from the neighborhood and transferred to another school. Soon she became no more than a memory.
    Although the original incentive was gone, I continued poring over the encyclopedias, as well as an increasing number of other books. Having tasted of the wine of knowledge, I could not now alter my course. For:
    “A little knowledge is a dangerous thing:
      Drink deep, or taste not the Pierian spring.”
      So wrote Alexander Pope, Volume XIV -- Paprika to Pterodactyl.

  斯蒂夫· 普罗迪

  上学的孩子们中间有一种普遍的错误想法，即认为他们的老师当年都是些神童。不管怎么说，除了不像一般孩子那样生性贪玩、不愿学习的书呆子之外，还有谁愿意长大后当老师呢？
    我竭力向我的学生们解释我在他们心目中的形象 ---- 一个在青春期热衷于书本和作业的人 ---- 有一点被扭曲了。相反，我极为憎恨义务教育。我永远都无法接受在鱼儿上钩时不得不去上学的想法。
  但是，在我中学二年级的时候，发生了一件美妙而又激动人心的事。爱神丘比特瞄准他的箭，正好射中了我的心。突然间，我喜欢上学了，而这只是为了能够凝视英语二班里那张可爱的脸。
    我的公主坐在卷笔器旁边，那一年我削的铅笔足以点燃一堆篝火。可黛比却远远超出了我的期望。将我们隔开的不仅有五排课桌，还有约50分的智商。她是英语二班的尖子，拉里维太太的掌上明珠。
    偶尔，黛比会发觉我在盯着她看，这时她便会露出一个闪烁着智慧光芒，令我心跳加快的微笑。这是一个标志着希望、使我暂时忘记将我们分开的智力上的鸿沟的微笑。
  我想尽办法去跨越那条鸿沟。有一天，我经过超市，突然想到了一个主意。橱窗里的一块广告牌称商店正以29美分的特价供应一套百科全书的第一卷。其余各卷则为每卷2.49美元。
    我买下了第一卷 ---- 从Aardvark（土豚）到Asteroid（海星）---- 然后开始了在知识世界中的冒险历程。打那以后，我将成为一个事实探寻者。我将成为英语二班的首席智者，以渊博的知识使我的公主倾心于我。我全都计划好了。
  一天，在自助餐厅排队时，我的第一个机会来了。我往身后一看，她正好在那儿。
“嘿，”她说。
    我犹豫了一下，然后润了润嘴唇说，“知道凤尾鱼是从哪儿来的吗？”
    她显得有点惊讶。“不，我不知道。”
    我松了口气。“凤尾鱼生活在咸水里，淡水里很少见。”我不得不讲得很快，以便在我们到达收银台之前，道出所有的细节。“渔民们在地中海和邻近西班牙、葡萄牙的大西洋海岸捕捉凤尾鱼。”
    “真有意思，”黛比一边说一边疑惑地摇着头。显然我已经给她留下了一个挺深的印象。
   几天之后，在一次消防演习时，我装作不经意地走到她身边，问，“去过阿留申群岛吗？”
    “从来没去过，”她答道。
    “也许是一个旅游的好去处，但我肯定不愿意住在那儿，”我说。
    “为什么不愿意呢？”黛比说，这正中了我的计。
    “呃，那儿的气候太险恶。在群岛的100多座岛屿中，没有一座有树木。地上遍布岩石，几乎没有植物能在上面生长。”
    “我想我连去旅游也不愿意，”她说。
    消防演习结束了，我们开始排队进入大楼，所以我不得不赶紧再谈谈土著居民。“阿留申人身材矮小，体格健壮，有着深色的皮肤和黑色的头发。他们以鱼为主食，他们设陷阱捕捉北极狐和海豹，以获得它们珍贵的毛皮。”
    黛比惊讶地睁大了眼睛。
  一天，我正在图书馆里浏览书刊。我发现黛比坐在一张桌子旁，正专心致志地做着一个填词游戏。她皱着眉头，显然被一个词难住了。我弯下身去问我是否能帮上忙。
    “一个意为东方女佣的四字母词，”黛比说。
    “试一试amah,”我以闪电般的速度说。
    黛比填入空格，然后转过头惊讶地盯着我。“我真不敢相信，”她说。“简直不敢相信。”
    那个光辉灿烂的、充满欢乐的、富有浪漫色彩的二年级就这样继续着。黛比似乎很喜欢我们的简短交谈，全神贯注地听着我的每一句话。自然，我读得越多，信心也越强。
  在教室里，我也渐渐让别人感到了我的存在。一天，在一次关于柯尔律治的《古舟子咏》的讨论中，我们碰到了albatross（信天翁）这个词。
    “有谁能告诉我们信天翁是什么吗？”拉里维太太问。
    我立刻举起了手。“信天翁是一种大鸟，主要栖息在赤道以南的海域，不过也有可能在北太平洋发现它们。信天翁身长达4英尺，翼幅是鸟类中最大的。它以鱼类和带壳的水生动物为食。信天翁胃口很大，吃饱后便很难再飞上天。”
    许久，教室里鸦雀无声。拉里维太太无法相信她刚刚所听到的内容。我偷偷地瞥了黛比一眼，对她使劲眨了眨眼。她自豪得笑容满脸，也对我眨了眨眼。
  我未能察觉到的是那一阵子黛比正同一个邻近学校的三年级学生约会 ---- 一个平均分为C+的篮球运动员。这一发现对我打击很大，有一度我真想忘掉所有学过的东西。当时我已攒够了钱买第二卷 ---- 从Asthma（哮喘病）到Bullfinch（红腹灰雀）---- 但我真想去买一只篮球。
    我觉得自己不仅受到了伤害，而且还遭到了背叛。就象阿伽门农一样，不过感谢上帝，后果并没有那么严重。
  最终我从伤痛中恢复了过来。第二年，黛比搬离了这个街区，转到了另一所学校。很快，她便成了记忆中的人物而已。
    虽然最初的动力没有了，但我却继续钻研百科全书，以及越来越多的其它书籍。已经品尝过知识的美酒，此时我已无法改变我的前进方向了。因为：
    “一知半解，为害匪浅：
    开怀畅饮吧，否则就不要品尝埃里亚圣泉。”
    亚历山大· 蒲柏如此写道，见第十四卷 ---- 从Paprika（红灯笼辣椒）到Pterodactyl（翼手龙）。
Before you read Text B, have a look at some of the figures of speech the author uses to convey his ideas. Examine the italicized words and phrases in the sentences below. What comparisons are being made? What mental pictures do they bring to your mind? What ideas is the author trying to convey? Put in your answer before clicking for the answer key.
1. A young man's first car is less a means of transportation than a monument to his discovery of youthful freedom. 
A young man's first car is compared to a monument - something that is_______________. (fairly permanent, admirable, noble, significant, etc.)
2. Before long, that car and I had become the best of friends.
The mental picture the best of friends brings is that the car and the wtiter are_____.(emotionally linked, inseparable, enjoying one another and willing to do a lot for each other)
3. I piled ten friends into the car.
The writer pushed his friends into the car in a__________(disorderly/ careless/ thoughtless) way perhaps as if they were _________ (objects).
4. The car was far from a beauty, but she was mine.
The word she is used to convey the writer's affection for his car, as if it was a ____ (delicate, sensitive emotional) being.
5. I've never questioned my youthful emotions that day when the mechanic delivered his sad verdict.
The word verdict conveys a feeling of ________ (inescapable doom -- a life-changing statement).
Text B    Coming of Age
Sam Walker
   Okay, I'll admit it. Sitting behind the wheel of my first car before it was towed off to the junkyard, I cried. You can tell me a car is only so much glass and steel, but I'll never apologize for losing my cool that day. A young man's first car is less a means of transportation than a monument to his discovery of youthful freedom. At least mine was.
    It had all started two years earlier: Soon after my 16th birthday, my parents retired the old red family car and passed it on to me. Before long, that car and I had become the best of friends. We gave rides to just about anyone who asked, anytime, anywhere, and had all sorts of adventures.
   Some of those adventures were pretty hair-raising. One famous afternoon after school, I piled ten friends into the car, including Eric, who opted to ride in the trunk rather than be left behind. We were just driving around, feeling good, talking about everything and nothing. And although I had been going only about 20 miles an hour, the collision with a school bus full of seven-year-olds crumpled the front of my car. My first thought was of Eric in the trunk. I rushed over and opened it to find him lying there motionless. I gasped. He opened his eyes and laughed: “You're the worst driver on the planet.”
    Bystanders stared as, one by one, ten dazed high-school sophomores crawled out of my car. No one on the bus was hurt, though one little girl was crying because she had to go to the bathroom. As far as the little boys were concerned, I was a hero. They crowded around me in admiration. Even the police officers managed to smile.
   My parents -- furious, of course -- settled on my punishment: I would use my upcoming summer wages to pay for the repairs. To lessen the financial blow, I insisted that the mechanic fix the car with used parts. So when the work was completed, the old red car had a green hood, a yellow fender and a blue door. I didn't care. The car was far from a beauty, but she was mine.
   That summer, once school was out, I found my freedom expanded hugely. On days when my friends and I would once have ridden bikes to the public pool, we drove my car along the river road to explore an old abandoned train station. Instead of riding to baseball games in the coach's van like little kids, we now rode in my car as sophisticated adults. We wore sunglasses, and spit sunflower seeds out the window, and felt as good as if we'd already won the game.
    One night while I was washing dishes at the restaurant where I worked, my friends removed the wheels from my car and left it standing disabled and awkward on concrete blocks in the parking lot. Deciding the best reaction to their trick was to ignore it, I walked home. The next morning I found the car in front of my house, covered with a two-inch layer of shaving cream.
   One by one, my friends got driver's licenses and brought different automotive options to our fold. But after a few days trying out whoever was the newest, we always wound up back in my old car. Even then, I wondered why. It wasn't flashy - except for those multi-colored parts, it looked just like the sensible family car it had once been. It wasn't fast - 55 miles an hour was a stretch. And it certainly wasn't comfortable - there was no air conditioning, and on hot days our bare legs stuck to the seats.
   Not until its engine died did I realize what had made the car so special. While most of my friends invested in car stereos that could rattle windows a block away, I stuck with the old original radio that barely picked up two stations on a good night. Mostly, we just left it turned off. There were no bored silences or demands that I buy a better radio, though. We filled the musical void by arguing about girls, making up silly songs about one another, or telling stories.
   But the moments that truly stand out were more sober. I'll never forget the silence as we drove home from the playoff game in which our team was eliminated. Nor the nights when Charlie talked about his parents' financial troubles, Tom spoke sadly of his father's absence, and Eric told us of his dream of playing professional hockey.
   Since we graduated from high school, my friends and I have spread out across the country and grown into adults. Yet I've never forgotten my youthful emotions that day when the mechanic delivered his sad verdict. In that old car of mine, we had stockpiled memories like firewood, knowing that someday, somewhere, we would gather as gray-haired men to re-light the blaze of our friendship.
长大成人
塞姆· 沃克
   好吧，我承认。在我的第一辆汽车被拖到废品旧货栈之前，我坐在驾驶座上