Mr. Templat was a teacher that I will never forget. I truly believe the teen years were the hardest time of my life. At that time, as a girl, I hated it when my parents asked me directly about my problems, making me more comfortable. I also remember many times when Mr. Templat would take me aside and talk to me. He had a special way of drawing out what the problem was. Every time he talked with me, I felt better He had a way of making his classes enjoyable. We always got the highest marks in math in our grade with his teaching. If there was a big world ball game on the radio, we would drop everything and he would put the name on so we could all enjoy it. That's just the way he is. Teens often hear things on TV or from adults about world problems that can frighten them. Now it is terrorism. Back in my teen years, it was the cold war. It worried me so much that I thought each day would be my last. Mr. Templat knew how much it troubled his students. He opened the subject up to discussion. He gave us a way to express our greatest fears and helped us understand war and politics. "One can feel afraid however brave he is." We were told. When I think back to those special days, I appreciate that he helped me through such a difficult time in my life. To learn about the problems the writers had, Mr Templat would _ . A) ask her about the problems directly B) wait until she told him about them C) ask her parents about the problems without letting her know D) ask her about them without making her feel uncomfortable
D
The Man was very sad. He knew that the Cat's days were numbered. The doctor had said there wasn't anything more that could be done, and that he should take the Cat home and make him as comfortable as possible. A tear rolled down the Man's cheek and landed on the Cat's forehead, The Cat gave him a slightly annoyed look. "Why do you cry, Man?" the Cat asked. "Because you can't bear the thought of losing me? Because you think you can never replace me?" The Man nodded "yes". "Pick up that piece of string from the floor. There, my 'toy'. The Man reached over and picked up the string. It was about two feet long and the Cat had been able to entertain himself for hours with it. "Now take each end of the string in one hand," the Cat ordered. The Man did so. "The end in your left hand is my birth and the end in your right hand is my death. Now bring the two ends together," the Cat said. The man did so. Then the Cat continued, "You have made a continuous circle. Does any point along the string appear to be different, worse or better than any other part of the string?" The Man inspected the string and then shook his head. "Close your eyes." the Cat said. "Now lick your hand." The Man widened his eyes in surprise. "Just do it," the Cat said. "Lick your hand, think of me in all my familiar places, and think about all the pieces of string." Licking his hand, he discovered what a cat must know, that licking a paw is very calming and allows one to think more clearly. He continued licking and the corners of his mouth turned upward into the first smile he had shown in days. He waited for the Cat to tell him to stop, and when he didn't, he opened his eyes. The Cat's eyes were closed. The Man stroked the warm, brown fur, but the Cat was gone. One day, not long after, there was a new cat on his lap. She was a lovely white cat. It is very different from his earlier beloved Cat and very much the same. What's the main idea of the passage? A) Pets play an important part in our life. B) Life has no end and death is just a new beginning. C) We should take a positive attitude towards life and live life to its fullest. D) It gives us some suggestions on how to relieve ourselves when a pet passes away.
B
(Q).
My bookshelves are full of dust--and with good reason.When iIt comes to cleaning that part of my home,I suffer from the most serious case of avoidance . The thing is this:when I do set out to clean and re-organize my books,which seldom happens,I place myself into a really bad situation.No sooner do I take a title from the shelf, blow off the dust,and wipe down the cover thanI find myself sitting on the floor with legs crossed and my back against the wall.Pretty soon books get piled up on my legs as I am reunited with old friends. It is as if these boobs have voices,and each wants to say its piece."Remember me?I was given to you when you went into the Navy , so that you would never lack for companionshlp,"one whispers.Another says,"I was your first book of poems,given to you before you learned to love poetry."And a third,"I was the book that made history so attrctive to you." Perhaps thegreatest pleasuret of re-organizing my books are the surprise--or better said,reunions--that occur. During my latest book cleaning adventure,I found one that had fallen behind the shelf:"Tales of Edgar Allan Poe."Not an unusual title,but the words written on the first page made it very special"With Love from Mom and Dad,Christma 1965." What's this? A book on the physics of lasers .It is filled with mathematical statements,and I had bought it at a library sale when I was 12,not long after the laser had been invented.I couldn't understand a bit of it,bul I did learn what "laser"meant. What I end up with when I empty my bookshelves is a cross-section of my personal history. It's like a road cut whre one sees all the layers of rock going back through time to the beginning of the simplest life forms.The books I've read--and kept--are not just old fiends.They' re my _ . By saying that his book have voices,the author means _ . A) they bring back happy memories B) they are recorded in human voice C) they say a lot about human history D) they offer good topic for discussion
(A).
A