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2021年1月17日发(作者：桂绍忠)
.

全新版大学英语第二册课文


Unit 1Text A Learning, Chinese-Style


Text
课文


Part I Pre-reading Task





Listen to the recording two or three times and then think over the following questions:


1. Who should teach whom? Is learning a one-way street?





2. Should we share our dreams for a better life with our parents or keep them to ourselves?





3. Can children ever understand their parents completely?





4. From the song can you guess what the theme of the unit, way of learning, chiefly refers to?


Part II Text A




Howard Gardner, a professor of education at Harvard University, reflects on a visit to China and
gives his thoughts on different approaches to learning in China and the West.




























LEARNING, CHINESE- STYLE
































Howard Gardner





For a month in the spring of 1987, my wife Ellen and I lived in the bustling eastern Chinese
city
of
Nanjing
with
our
18-month-old
son
Benjamin
while
studying
arts
education
in
Chinese
kindergartens and elementary schools. But one of the most telling lessons Ellen and I got in the
difference between Chinese and American ideas of education came not in the classroom but in the
lobby of the Jinling Hotel where we stayed in Nanjing.





The key to our room was attached to a large plastic block with the room number on it. When
leaving the hotel, a guest was encouraged to turn in the key, either by handing it to an attendant or
by
dropping
it
through
a
slot
into
a
box.
Because
the
key
slot
was
narrow,
the
key
had
to
be
positioned carefully to fit into it.





Benjamin loved to carry the key around, shaking it vigorously. He also liked to try to place it
into the slot. Because of his tender age and incomplete understanding of the need to position the
key
just
so,
he
would
usually
fail.
Benjamin
was
not
bothered
in
the
least.
He
probably
got
as
much pleasure out of the sounds the key made as he did those few times when the key actually
found its way into the slot.





Now both Ellen and I were perfectly happy to allow Benjamin to bang the key near the key
.
.
slot.
His
exploratory
behavior
seemed
harmless
enough.
But
I
soon
observed
an
interesting
phenomenon. Any Chinese staff member nearby would come over to watch Benjamin and, noting
his
lack
of
initial
success,
attempt
to
assist.
He
or
she
would
hold
onto
Benjamin's
hand
and,
gently but firmly, guide it directly toward the slot, reposition it as necessary, and help him to insert
it. The
—
and on occasion would frown slightly, as if considering us to be neglecting our parental duties.





I
soon
realized
that
this
incident
was
directly
relevant
to
our
assigned
tasks
in
China:
to
investigate the ways of early childhood education (especially
in the arts), and to throw light on
Chinese attitudes toward creativity. And so before long I began to introduce the key-slot anecdote
into my discussions with Chinese educators.

TWO DIFFERENT W
AYS TO LEARN





With a few exceptions my Chinese colleagues displayed the same attitude as the staff at the
Jinling
Hotel.
Since
adults
know
how
to
place
the
key
in
the
key
slot,
which
is
the
ultimate
purpose of approaching the slot, and since the child is neither old enough nor clever enough to
realize the desired action on his own, what possible gain is achieved by having him struggle? He
may well get frustrated and angry
—
certainly not a desirable outcome. Why not show him what
to do? He will be happy, he will learn how to accomplish the task sooner, and then he can proceed
to
more
complex
activities,
like
opening
the
door
or
asking
for
the
key
—

both
of
which
accomplishments can (and should) in due course be modeled for him as well.





We listened to such explanations sympathetically and explained that, first of all, we did not
much care whether Benjamin succeeded in inserting the key into the slot. He was having a good
time and was exploring, two activities that did matter to us. But the critical point was that, in the
process, we were trying to teach Benjamin that one
can solve a problem effectively by oneself.
Such
self-reliance
is
a
principal
value
of
child
rearing
in
middle-class
America.
So
long
as
the
child is shown exactly how to do something
—
whether it be placing a key in a key slot, drawing a
hen or making up for a misdeed
—
he is less likely to figure out himself how to accomplish such a
task.
And,
more
generally,
he
is
less
likely
to
view
life
—

as
Americans
do
—

as
a
series
of
situations in which one has to learn to think for oneself, to solve problems on one's own and even
to discover new problems for which creative solutions are wanted.

TEACHING BY HOLDING HIS HAND





In retrospect, it became clear to me that this incident was indeed key
—
and key in more than
one sense. It pointed to important differences in the educational and artistic practices in our two
countries.





When our well-intentioned Chinese observers came to Benjamin's rescue, they did not simply
push his hand down clumsily or uncertainly, as I might have done. Instead, they guided him with
extreme
facility
and
gentleness
in
precisely
the
desired
direction.
I
came
to
realize
that
these
Chinese were not just molding and shaping Benjamin's performance in any old manner: In the best
.
.
Chinese tradition, they were ba zhe shoujiao
—

—
so much so that
he would happily come back for more.





The
idea
that
learning should
take
place by
continual
careful
shaping
and
molding
applies
equally to the arts. Watching children at work in a classroom setting, we were astonished by their
facility.
Children
as
young
as
5
or 6
were painting
flowers,
fish
and
animals
with
the
skill
and
confidence
of an
adult;
calligraphers 9
and
10
years
old
were
producing
works
that
could
have
been displayed in a museum. In a visit to the homes of two of the young artists, we learned from
their parents that they worked on perfecting their craft for several hours a day.

CREATIVITY FIRST?





In terms of attitudes to creativity there seems to be a reversal of priorities: young Westerners
making
their
boldest
departures
first
and
then
gradually
mastering
the
tradition;
and
young
Chinese being almost inseparable from the tradition, but, over time, possibly evolving to a point
equally original.





One
way
of
summarizing
the
American
position
is
to
state
that
we
value
originality
and
independence more than the Chinese do. The contrast between our two cultures can also be seen in
terms of the fears we both harbor. Chinese teachers are fearful that if skills are not acquired early,
they may never be acquired; there is, on the other hand, no comparable hurry to promote creativity.
American educators fear that unless creativity has been acquired early, it may never emerge; on
the other hand, skills can be picked up later.





However,
I
do
not
want
to
overstate
my
case.
There
is
enormous
creativity
to
be
found
in
Chinese scientific, technological and artistic innovations past and present. And there is a danger of
exaggerating
creative
breakthroughs
in
the
West.
When
any
innovation
is
examined
closely,
its
reliance on previous achievements is all too apparent (the
phenomenon ).





But assuming that the contrast I have developed is valid, and that the fostering of skills and
creativity are both worthwhile goals, the important question becomes this: Can we gather, from
the
Chinese
and
American
extremes,
a
superior
way
to
approach
education,
perhaps
striking
a
better balance between the poles of creativity and basic skills?





(1182 words)

Unit 2 Text A The Richest Man In America, Down Home


Text
课文


Part I Pre- reading Task





Listen to the recording two or three times and then think over the following questions:









.
.

1. Who is it about?





2. What happened to him one day?





3.
Do
you
think
it
was
worthwhile
to
walk
two
or
three
miles
to
pay
back
the
six
and
a
quarter cents?





4. Is the story related to the theme of the unit
—
values?





The following words in the recording may be new to you:






dismay

n.


沮丧，失望







disturb

vt.

使不安







conscientious

a.


认真的，尽职的



Part II Text A




Does being rich mean you live a completely different life from ordinary people? Not, it seems, if
your name is Sam Walton.




















THE RICHEST MAN IN AMERICA, DOWN HOME































Art Harris





He put on a dinner jacket to serve as a waiter at the birthday party of The Richest Man in
America.
He
imagined
what
surely
awaited:
a
mansion,
a

for
every
day
of
the
week,





Then he was off to the house, wheeling past the sleepy town square in Bentonville, a remote
Arkansas town of 9,920, where Sam Walton started with a little dime store
that grew into a $$6
billion
discount
chain
called
Wal-Mart.
He
drove
down
a
country
road,
turned
at
a
mailbox
marked





It was nice, but no palace. The furniture appeared a little worn. An old pickup truck sat in the
garage and a muddy bird dog ran about the yard. He never spotted any servants.
.
.











Only
in
America
can
a
billionaire
carry
on
like
plain
folks
and
get
away
with
it.
And
the
67-year-old discount king Sam Moore Walton still travels these windy back roads in his 1979 Ford
pickup,
red
and
white,
bird
dogs
by
his
side,
and,
come
shooting
season,
waits
in
line
like
everyone else to buy shells at the local Wal-Mart.






call
the
boss
by
his
first
name
as
a
recent
corporate
memo
commands.
Few
here
think
of
his
billions; they call him
dime store on the square and worked 18 hours a day for his dream,





By all accounts, he's friendly, cheerful, a fine neighbor who does his best to blend in, never
flashy, never throwing his weight around.





No matter how big a time he had on Saturday night, you can find him in church on Sunday.
Surely in a reserved seat, right?
of the local church.





So where does The Richest Man in America sit? Wherever he finds a seat.
not that way. He doesn't have a set place. At a church supper the other night, he and his wife were
in back washing dishes.






For 19 years, he's used the same barber. John Mayhall finds him waiting when he opens up at
7 a.m. He chats about the national news, or reads in his chair, perhaps the Benton County Daily
Democrat, another Walton property that keeps him off the front page. It buried the Forbes list at
the bottom of page 2.











But one recent morning, The Richest Man in America did something that would have made
headlines
any
where
in
the
world:
He
forgot
his
money.

said,
'Forget
it,
take
care
of
it
next
time,'





Wasn't that, well, a little strange?
Walton is that he isn't strange.





But just how long Walton can hold firm to his folksy habits with celebrity hunters keeping
following him wherever he goes is anyone's guess. Ever since Forbes magazine pronounced him
America's
richest
man,
with
$$2.8
billion
in
Wal-Mart
stock,
he's
been
a
rich
man
on
the
run,
steering clear of reporters, dreamers, and schemers.






on Gremp,
.
.

—
and he doesn't care. He doesn't spend much. He owns
stock, but he's always left it in the company so it could grow. But the real story in his mind is the
success achieved by the 100,000 people who make up the Wal-Mart team.





He's
usually
back
home
for
Friday
sales
meetings,
or
the
executive
pep
rally
Saturday
morning at 7 a.m., when Walton, as he does at new store openings, is liable to jump up on a chair
and lead everyone in the Wal-Mart cheer:





And louder they yell. No one admits to feeling the least bit silly. It's all part of the Wal-Mart
way of life as laid down by Sam: loyalty, hard work, long hours; get ideas into the system from the
bottom up, Japanese-style; treat your people right; cut prices and margins to the bone and sleep
well at night. Employees with one year on board qualify for stock options, and are urged to buy all
they can.





After the pep rally, there's bird hunting, or tennis on his backyard court. But his stores are
always on his mind. One tennis guest managed to put him off his game by asking why a can of
balls cost more in one Wal-Mart than another. It turned out to be untrue, but the move worked.
Walton lost four straight games.





Walton
set
up
a
college
scholarship
fund
for
employees'
children,
a
disaster
relief
fund
to
rebuild
employee
homes
damaged
by
fires,
floods,
tornadoes,
and
the
like.
He
believed
in
cultivating ideas and rewarding success.






say,
'That
fellow
worked
hard,
let's
give
him
a
little
extra,'
recalls
retired
president
Ferold

F. Arend, who was stunned at such generosity
after the stingy employer he left to join
Wal-Mart.






they're treated and the way they feel about their company. They believe things are different here,
but they deserve the credit.






Adds company lawyer Jim Hendren:
around
him
for
any
length
of
time
who
wasn't
better
off.
And
I
don't
mean
just
financially,
although
a
lot
of
people
are.
It's
just
something
about
him
—

coming
into
contact
with
Sam
Walton just makes you a better person.





(1066 words)





Unit 2 Text A Father knows Better


Text
课文


Part I Pre-reading Task

.
.




Listen to the recording two or three times and then think over the following questions:










1. What sort of a song is it?





2. Who should be sitting up and taking notice? Why?





3. What does the singer think of his parent's way of doing things?





4. Do you agree with what he says?





The following words in the recording may be new to you:






roam

vi.

漫游







drench

vt.

使湿透







prophesize

v.


作预言







senator

n.


参议员







heed

vt.

注意







stall

v.


拖延







rage

vi.

激烈地进行



Part II Text A




.
.
This
comedy
centers
around
a
proud
father's
attempts
to
help
his
children,
attempts
which
somehow
or
other
always
end
up
embarrassing
them.
For
the
sake
of
fun
it
carries
things
to
extremes, but nearly everyone can recognize something of themselves and their parents in it.





























FATHER KNOWS BETTER































Marsh Cassady

CHARACTERS:
FATHER;
MOTHER;
HEIDI,
14;
DIANE,
17;
SEAN,
16;
RESTAURANT
MANAGER, 20s; MRS. HIGGINS.

SETTING: Various locations including a fast-food restaurant, the Thompson family dining room,
and an office at a high school.

ATRISE: As the lights come up, HEIDI enters and crosses Down Right to the edge of the stage.
SEAN
and
DIANE
enter
and
cross
Down
Left
to
the
edge
of
the
stage.
They
listen
as
HEIDI
addresses the audience.

HEIDI:
My
dad's
a
nice
man.
Nobody
could
possibly
believe
that
he
isn't.
Yet
he's...
well,
he's
always doing these stupid things that end up really embarrassing one or more of us kids. One time,
see, my brother wanted to buy this guitar. Been saving money for it for a long time. Then he got a
job
at
this
fast- food
place,
OK?
Waiting
tables.
It
was
Sean's
first
actual
job,
and
he
was
real
happy about it. He figured in two or three months he'd have enough money to buy exactly the kind
of guitar he wanted. Mom and Dad were proud of him, and well, OK, he's my big brother, and he's
always
pulling
these
dumb
things
on
me.
But,
well,
I
was
proud
of
him
too.
You
know
what
happened? I hate to tell you because:

SEAN, DIANE and HEIDI: (In unison) Father knows better!





(The
lights
come
Up
Left
on
the
fast-food
restaurant
where
SEAN
works.
It
consists
of
a
counter and a couple of small tables. The MAN-AGER stands behind the counter. SEAN is busily
cleaning the tables when FATHER walks in.)

MANAGER: Good evening, sir. May I help you?

FATHER: Good evening.

SEAN: (To himself) Oh, no!





(He squats behind one of the tables trying to hide from FATHER.)

FATHER: I'm looking for the manager.

MANAGER: That would be me, sir.
.
.

FATHER: I'm Sam Thompson. My son works here.

MANAGER: Oh, you're Sean's father.

FATHER: Yes. It's his first job, you know. I just wanted to check that he's doing OK.

MANAGER: Oh, fine. No problem.

SEAN: (Spreading his hands, palms up, speaking to himself) What did I do to deserve this? Tell
me what?

FATHER: Hiring him was a good thing then?

MANAGER: Well, yeah, I suppose so.

SEAN: (Still to himself.) Go home, Dad. Go home. Go home.

FATHER: I'm sure he's a good worker but a typical teenager, if you know what I mean.

MANAGER: (Losing interest) I wouldn't know.

FATHER:
He's
a
good
boy.
And
I
assure
you
that
if
there
are
any
subjects
that
need
to
be
addressed, Sean and I will have a man-to-man talk.

MANAGER: I don't think that will be necessary...

FATHER: Oh, no problem. I'm proud of my son. Very, very proud. And I just wanted you to know
that I'll do anything I can to help him through life's dangerous sea.

SEAN: (Standing up and screaming) Aaaargh! Aaaargh! Aaaaaaargh!

FATHER: Son, I didn't know you were here.

SEAN: It's where I work, Dad.

FATHER: Of course. I mean, I didn't see you.

SEAN: I can't imagine why.

FATHER: Your manager and I were just having a nice chat.





(DIANE
enters
Down
Left
just
as
HEIDI
enters
Down
Right.
They
look
at
SEAN
and
FATHER.)
.
.

SEAN, DIANE, HEIDI: (In unison) Father, you know better than that.





(The lights quickly fade to black and then come up a second or two later. SEAN stands alone
at the Down Right edge of the stage. HEIDI and DIANE cross to Down Left edge of the stage.)

SEAN:
If
that
sort
of
thing
happened
only
once
in
a
while,
it
wouldn't
be
so
bad.
Overall,
I
wouldn't want to trade my dad for anyone else's. He loves us kids and Mom too. But I think that's
sometimes the problem. He wants to do things for us, things he thinks are good. But he needs to
give them more thought because:

SEAN, HEIDI and DIANE: (In unison) Father knows better!





(The lights fade to black and come up on the Center Stage area where FATHER and the three
children are seated around the dining room table. MOTHER enters carrying a dish, which she sets
on
the
table.
FATHER
quickly
rises
and
pulls
out
her
chair.
She
sits.
The
family
starts
eating
dinner.)

FATHER: I have a surprise for you, Diane.

DIANE: (Knows it can't be good.) You have... a surprise?

MOTHER: Well, whatever it is, dear, don't keep us in suspense.

FATHER: Well, you know, Dan Lucas and I work together?

DIANE: Kyle's father?

MOTHER: Don't interrupt, dear, your father is trying to tell you something.

HEIDI: (Stage whisper to SEAN) Something Diane won't want to know, I'll bet.

SEAN: (Whispering to HEIDI) Whatever would make you think that?

MOTHER: Sean, dear. Heidi, sweetheart, don't distract your father.

SEAN and HEIDI: (Simultaneously) Sorry, Mom.

FATHER: Now then. As I was saying, I know how much you like young Kyle.

DIANE: Father!

FATHER: It's true, isn't it? Didn't I hear you tell your mother that you wish Kyle would ask you to
the senior prom?
.
.

SEAN: Uh-oh!

HEIDI: Oops!

MOTHER: Please, children, please. Your father is trying to speak.

DIANE:
(Through
clenched
teeth,
the
words
are
in
a
monotone
and
evenly
spaced.)
Yes-I-said- that-why-are-you-asking?

FATHER: Well then.

DIANE: (Becoming hysterical)

FATHER: What did I say? Did I say something wrong?

HEIDI: (To SEAN) Not yet, he didn't.

SEAN: (To HEIDI) But you know it's coming.

MOTHER: Children, please. Do give your father the respect he deserves.

HEIDI and SEAN: (Rolling their eyes) Yes, Mother.

FATHER: Well, today I saw Dan and asked if he'd like to go to lunch at that French restaurant on
Third Street. You know the one, Mother.

MOTHER: Well, yes, I believe I do.

FATHER: My treat, I told him. And, of course, he was glad to accept.

MOTHER: Why wouldn't he be?

FATHER: (Somewhat surprised) Well, yes.

DIANE: What-has- this-to-do-with me?!

MOTHER: Diane, sometimes I just don't understand your behavior. I try my best.

DIANE: (Very short with her) I'm sorry.

MOTHER: Thank you, Diane. (To FATHER) Please do go on, dear.

FATHER: As I said
—

.
.

HEIDI: We know what you said, Daddy.

FATHER: Er... uh, what's that?

SEAN: She said,

FATHER: Yes, yes, of course.

MOTHER:
Do
get
on
with
it,
dear.
I've
made
the
most
glorious
dessert.
An
old
recipe
handed
down to me by my great Aunt Hilda
—


DIANE: Mother, please!

MOTHER: Yes, dear?





(DIANE shakes her head and lets her body fall against the back of the chair.)

FATHER: At any rate, Dan's a nice guy. Never knew him well. Found we have a lot of the same
interests. Our families, our community, global peace, human welfare.

HEIDI: (Mumbling to herself) That narrows it down, all right.

SEAN: Father?

FATHER: Yes, son?

SEAN: I do believe Diane would like to know the surprise.

DIANE:
(Breathing
hard
as
if
exhausted,
she
turns
to
SEAN,
nodding
her
head
up
and
down
repeatedly.) Thank you, Sean. I owe you one.

FATHER: Well, yes. Here it is then. I told Dan of your interest in his son.

DIANE: You what?

MOTHER: Diane, what has come over you? I just don't understand the younger generation. Why
back in my day
—


DIANE: Mother, please!

MOTHER: What, what? What?

HEIDI: Mother, I believe she wants Father to continue.
.
.

SEAN: (To himself) Get this over with, more likely.

DIANE:
Daddy,
please,
tell
me.
Now.
Right
away.
What
did
you
say,
Daddy?
Please.
Tell
me,
what did you tell Mr. Lucas? Tell me, please. Please, tell me.

FATHER: Well, now, isn't this nice. It looks like my little scheme is a success. You're so eager to
find out... makes a man feel as if it's all worthwhile.

HEIDI: (To SEAN) Can you believe this?

SEAN: (To HEIDI) Oh, sure. Can't you?

FATHER: Yes, well, I told him how much you liked young Kyle, and how you'd been wishing he'd
ask you to the prom.

DIANE: You didn't! Tell me you didn't!

FATHER: Oh, yes. Anything for my children.

DIANE: (Swallowing hard) And... and
—


MOTHER: Diane, are you all right?

DIANE: (She juts out her chin at MOTHER and quickly jerks her head around to face FATHER.)
Well... what did he say?!

FATHER: Well, of course, being the sort of man he is
—
frank, understanding, he said he'd speak
to the young man, insist he give you a call.

DIANE: (Angry scream!) Whaaaaaat!

SEAN and HEIDI: (Together) Father, you know better than that.

FATHER: I do? Yes, yes, I guess I do. I've... done it again, haven't I?





(The
lights
quickly
fade
to
black
and
then
come
up
a
second
or
two
later.
DIANE
stands
alone at the Down Right edge of the stage. HEIDI and SEAN enter Down Left and cross to the
edge of the stage.)

DIANE: Can you imagine how humiliated I was? An honor student, class president. And Father
was
out
asking
people
to have
their
sons
call
and
ask me
to
the
prom!
But
that's
dear
old dad.
Actually, he is a dear. He just doesn't stop to think. And it's not just one of us who've felt the heavy
hand
of
interference.
Oh,
no,
all
three
of
us
live
in
constant
dread
knowing
that
at
any
time
.
.
disaster can strike because:

DIANE, HEIDI and SEAN: (Shouting in unison) Father knows better.





(The
lights
fade
to
black
and
quickly
come
up
again
Stage
Left
where
there
is
an
executive-type
desk
and
chair
and
two
other
chairs.
Behind
the
desk
sits
MRS.
HIGGINS,
in
charge of admitting new students to Benjamin Harrison High School. HEIDI and FATHER sit in
the other chairs.)

MRS. HIGGINS: So this is our new student, is it?

FATHER: That's right.

MRS. HIGGINS: What's your name, young lady?

HEIDI: HEIDI Thompson.

MRS. HIGGINS: I'm sure you'll find the students friendly. And the teachers more than willing to
answer questions.

FATHER: She is an exceptional young woman, you know.

HEIDI: Daddy!

FATHER: Very, very bright.

MRS. HIGGINS: Yes, now if we can get you to fill out
—


FATHER: Don't know where she got her brains. Her mother, I suppose. Oh, I was bright enough.
But nothing like HEIDI. All her teachers have told Mrs. Thompson
—
that's her mother
—
and me
that she was just about the brightest
—


MRS. HIGGINS: (Interrupts as she loses her patience, though trying to be pleasant) As I said, if
you have proof of vaccinations
—


FATHER: (Interrupts, carrying on with his line of thought) Besides being bright, she's very, very
talented.

HEIDI: (Twists her hands over and over in front of her chest.) Please, Daddy, don't do this.

FATHER: Well, of course I will, darling. I'm proud of you. Your mother and I are proud of you.
(Turns back to S.) Why just last year, in her last year of junior high school, before
we moved, Heidi placed first in the county in the annual spelling bee! Isn't that wonderful? And
she plays the piano like an angel. An absolute angel.
.

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