问答题Words are in different sense relations with each other. What sense relation is illustrated in each of the pairs of words below? Add one more example to each pair. (a)casual—informal (b)intelligent—stupid (c)steal—steel (d)animal—dog

问答题Paragraph Writing The student writer of the following essay was presented with an imaginary dilemma—whether or not to buy a stolen final exam under specific circumstances. The student was asked to justify one decision or another. She chose to argue for a decision she knew would be unpopular. Read this essay, and then write a paragraph in no more than 150 words to refute one of the arguments in this essay, follow the three steps outlined below: 1. Identify in the essay the one argument that you strongly disagree with and summarize it in one sentence. Argument to be refuted: ______ 2. Write down your counterargument that is an argument against what you have identified in step 1. 3. Use your counterargument as the topic sentence and write up the paragraph. Cheating Who? I had a difficult decision to make. Normally, choosing between honesty and dishonesty barely requires thought. I try to be an honest person, but in my situation choosing to buy a black-marketed copy of an important math test forced me to be dishonest. As long as I understood how to work out the required problems, I felt buying the test was not so unreasonable. Before buying the test I weighed both sides carefully I didn"t want to make a hasty decision, and I found a compromise I could accept. I devoted most of my studying time to the problems on the black-marketed test. After conquering them, I then reviewed the rest of the material until I had mastered it as well. Knowing I had put forth a good effort to study all that was required, I felt better about my decision. I hadn"t cheated myself out of learning important math concepts that I would need in the future. A comprehensive math exam ranks high in difficulty among exams in general. In a whole semester of an advanced math course, there are probably over one hundred types of problems. Out of those, the instructor selects around twenty for the exam. What a relief it would be to know exactly what types of problems would appear. Much of the tension and worrying that final exams cause would be remedied. When I bought the test, the aggravation of wondering how well or how poorly I would do on the exam was gone. I felt very confident about my math course, which gave me reassurance for my other final exams. Another reason for buying the test was the curve of our grades since almost all of my classmates had bought a copy of the test, they would naturally do well. The accumulation of high scores would push the curve way up, making it impossible for me to get a decent grade without a copy of my own. Math is one of the most important classes and one in which I must do well. Without a high score on the final exam and a good overall grade for the course I would lose my scholarship and my means of finishing college. I was not ready to take that big chance; I could have lost too much. I realize my decision to buy a copy of the test was a dishonest one, and many people would not justify it. However, I could not afford to fail the exam or the course. The consequences of failing would affect my future in many ways. I could not afford the expense of college without a scholarship. Without finishing college, my chances of finding a good, satisfying job would be substantially lowered. Completing my college education sits at the top of my value list. My decision to buy the test assured me of a good math grade. I was also certain of being granted a scholarship.

问答题UV

问答题pidgins and creoles

问答题What is the social constructivist theory? What implications does this theory have for the practice of a language teaching?

问答题Tell the sense relation between a and b in each pair: 1)a. He no longer likes coffee, b. He liked coffee. 2)a. Mary is working in China. b. Mary is working in Beijing.

问答题A Worn Path Eudora Welty It was December—a bright frozen day in the early morning. Far out in the country there was an old Negro woman with her head tied red rag, coming along a path through the pinewoods. Her name was Phoenix Jackson. She was very old and small and she walked slowly in the dark pine shadows, moving a little from side to side in her steps, with the balanced heaviness and lightness of a pendulum in a grand father clock. She carried a thin, small cane made from an umbrella, and with this she kept tapping the frozen earth in front of her. This made a grave and persistent noise in the still air that seemed meditative like the chirping of a solitary little bird. She wore a dark striped dress reaching down to her shoe tops, and an equally long apron of bleached sugar sacks, with a full pocket: all neat and tidy, but every time she took a step she might have fallen over her shoelaces, which dragged from her unlaced shoes, she looked straight ahead. Her eyes were blue with age. Her skin had a pattern all its own of numberless branching wrinkles and as though a whole little tree stood in the middle of her forehead, but a golden color ran underneath, and thee two knobs of her cheeks were illumined by a yellow burning under the dark. Under the red rag her hair came down on her neck in the frailest of ringlets, still black, and with an odor like copper. Now and then there was a quivering in the thicket. Old Phoenix said, "Out of my way, all you foxes, owls, beetles, jack rabbits, coons and wild animals... Keep out from under these feet, little bob-whites. Keep the big wild hogs out of my path. Don"t let none of those come running my direction. I got a long way." Under her small black-freckled hand her cane, limber as a buggy whip, would switch at the brush as if to rouse up any hiding things. On she went. The woods were deep and still. The sun made the pine needles almost too bright to look at, up where the wind rocked. The cones dropped as light as feathers. Down in the hollow was the mourning dove—it was not too late for him. The path ran up a hill. "Seem like there is chains about my feet, time I get this far," she said, in the voice of argument old people keep to use with themselves. "Something always take a hold of me on this hill—pleads I should stay." After she got to the top she turned and gave a full, severe look behind her where she had come. "Up through pines," she said at length. "Now down through oaks." Her eyes opened their widest, and she started down gently. But before she got to the bottom of the hill a bush caught her dress. Her fingers were busy and intent, but her skirts were full and long, so that before she could pull them free in one place they were caught in another. It was not possible to allow the dress to tear. "I in the thorny bush," she said. "Thorns, you doing your appointed work. Never want to let folks pass, no sir. Old eyes thought you was a pretty little green bush." Finally, trembling all over, she stood free, and after a moment dared to stoop for her cane. "Sun so high!" she cried, leaning back and looking, while the thick tears went over her eyes. "The time getting all gone here." At the foot of this hill was a place where a log was laid across the creek. "Now comes the trial," said Phoenix. Putting her right foot out, she mounted the log and shut her eyes. Lifting her skirt, leveling her cane fiercely before her, like a festival figure in some parade, she began to march across. Then she opened her eyes and she was safe on the other side. "I wasn"t as old as I thought," she said. But she sat down to rest. She spread her skirts on the bank around her and folded her hands over her knees. Up above her was a tree in a pearly cloud of mistletoe. She did not dare to close her eyes, and when a little boy brought her a plate with a slice of marble-cake on it she spoke to him. "That would be acceptable," she said. But when she went to take it there was just her own hand in the air. So she left that tree, and had to go through a barbed-wire fence. There she had to creep and crawl, spreading her knees and stretching her fingers like a baby trying to climb the steps. But she talked loudly to herself: she could not let her dress be torn now, so late in the day, and she could not pay for having her arm or her leg sawed off if she got caught fast where she was. At last she was safe through the fence and risen up out in the clearing. Big dead trees, like black men with one arm, were standing in the purple stalks of the withered cotton field. Thee sat a buzzard. "Who you watching?" In the furrow she made her way along. "Glad this not the season for bulls," she said, looking sideways, "and the good Lord made his snakes to curl up and sleep in the winter. A pleasure I don"t see no two-headed snake coming around that tree, where it come once. It took a while to get by him, back in the summer." She passed through the old cotton and went into a field of dead corn. It whispered and shook and was taller than her head. "Through the maze now," she said, for there was no path. Then there was something tall, black, and skinny there, moving before her. At first she took it for a man. It could have been a man dancing in the field. But she stood still and listened, and it did not make a sound. It was as silent as a ghost. "Ghost", she said sharply, "who be you the ghost of? For I have heard of nary death close by." But there was no answer—only the ragged dancing in the wind. She shut her eyes, reached out her hand, and touched a sleeve. She found a coat and inside that an emptiness, cold as ice. "You scarecrow," she said. Her face lighted. "I ought to be shut up for good," she said with laughter. "My senses is gone. I too old. I the oldest people I ever know. Dance, old scarecrow," she said, "while I dancing with you". She kicked her foot over the furrow, and with mouth drawn down, shook her head once or twice in a little strutting way. Some husks blew down and whirled in streamers about her skirts. Then she went on, parting her way from side to side with the cane, through the whispering field. At last she came to the end, to a wagon track where the silver grass blew between the red ruts. The quail were walking around like pullets, seeming all dainty and unseen. "Walk pretty," she said. "This the easy place. This the easy going." She followed the track, swaying through the quiet bare fields, through the little strings of trees silver in their dead leaves, past cabins silver from weather, with the doors and windows boarded shut, all like old women under a Spell sitting there. "I walking in their sleep," she said, nodding her head vigorously. In a ravine she went where a spring was silently flowing through a hollow log. Old Phoenix bent and drank. "Sweet gum makes the water sweet," she said, and drank more. "Nobody know who made this well, for it was here when I was born." The track crossed a swampy part where the moss hung as white as lace from every limb. "Sleep on, alligators, and blow your bubbles." Then the track went into the road. Deep, deep the road went down between the high green-colored banks. Overhead the live-oaks net and it was as dark as a cave. A black dog with a lolling tongue came up out of the weeds by the ditch. She was meditating, and not ready, and when he came at her she only hit him a little with her cane. Over she went in the ditch, like a little puff of milkweed. Down there her senses drifted away. A dream visited her, and she reached her hand up, but nothing reached down and gave her a pull. So she lay there and presently went to talking. "Old woman", she said to herself, "that black dog come up out of the weeds to stall you off and now there he sitting on his fine tail, smiling at you." A white man finally came along and found her—a hunter, a young man, with his dog on a chain. "Well, Granny!" he laughed. "What are you doing there?" "Lying on my back like a June-bug waiting to be fumed over, mister," she said, reaching up her hand. He lifted her up, gave her a swing in the air, and set her down. "Anything broken, Granny?", "No, sir, them old dead seeds is spring enough," said Phoenix, when she had got her breath. "I thank you for your trouble." "Where do you live, Granny?" he asked, while the two dogs were growling at each other. "Away back yonder, sir, behind the ridge. You can"t even see it from here?" "On your way home?" "No sir, I going to town..." "Why, that"s too far! That"s as far as I walk when I come out myself, and I get something for my trouble." He patted the stuffed bag he carried, and there hung down a little closed claw. It was one of the bobwhites, with its beak hooked bitterly to show it was dead. "Now you go on home, Granny!" "I bound to go to town, mister", said Phoenix. "The time comes around." He gave another laugh, filling the whole landscape. "I know you old colored people! Wouldn"t miss going to town to see Santa Claus!" But something held old Phoenix very still. The deep lines in her face went into a fierce and different radiation. Without warning, she had seen with her own eyes a flashing nickel fall out of the man"s pocket onto the ground. "How old are you, Granny?" he was saying. "There is no telling, mister," she said, "no telling." Then she gave a little cry and clapped her hands and said, "Git on away from here, dog! Look! Look at that dog!" She laughed as if in admiration. "He ain"t scared of nobody. He a big black dog." She whispered, "Sic him!" "Watch me get rid of that cur," said the man. "Sic him, Pete! Sic him!" Phoenix heard the dogs fighting, and heard the man running and throwing sticks. She even heard a gunshot. But she was slowly bending forward by that time, further and further forward, the lids stretched down over her eyes, as if she were doing this in her sleep. Her chin was lowered almost to her knees. The yellow palm of her hand came out from the fold of her apron. Her fingers slid down and along the ground under the piece of money with the grace and care they would have in lifting an egg from under a setting hen. Then she slowly straightened up, she stood erect, and the nickel was in her apron pocket. A bird flew by. Her lips moved, "God watching me the whole time. I come to stealing." The man came back, and his own dog panted about them. "Well, I scared him off that time," he said, and then he laughed and lifted his gun and pointed it at Phoenix. She stood straight and faced him. "Doesn"t the gun scare you?" he said, still pointing it. "No, sir, I seen plenty go off closer by, in my day, and for less than what I done," she said, holding utterly still. He smiled, and shouldered the gun. "Well, Granny," he said, "you must be a hundred years old, and scared of nothing. I"d give you a dime if I had any money with me. But you take my advice and stay home, and nothing will happen to you." "I bound to go on my way, mister," said Phoenix. She inclined her head in the red rag. Then they went in different directions, but she could hear the gun shooting again and again over the hill. She walked on. The shadows hung from the oak trees to the road like curtains. Then she smelled wood-smoke, and smelled the river, and she saw a steeple and the cabins on their steep steps. Dozens of little black children whirled around her. There ahead was Natchez shining. Bells were ringing. She walked on. In the paved city it was Christmas time. There were red and green electric lights strung and crisscrossed everywhere, and all turned on in the daytime. Old Phoenix would have been lost if she had not distrusted her eyesight and depended on her feet to know where to take her. She paused quietly on the sidewalk where people were passing by. A lady came along in the crowd, carrying an armful of red, green and silver wrapped presents; she gave off perfume like the red roses in hot summer, and Phoenix stopped her. "Please, missy, will you lace up my shoe?" She held up her foot. "What do you want, Grandma?" "See my shoe," said Phoenix. "Do all right for out in the country, but wouldn"t look right to go in a big building." "Stand still then, Grandma," said the lady. She put her packages down on the sidewalk beside her and laced and tied both shoes tightly. "Can"t lace"em with a cane," said Phoenix. "Thank you, missy. I don"t mind asking a nice lady to tie up my shoe, when I gets out on the street." Moving slowly and from side to side, she went into the big building, and into a tower of steps, where she walked up and around and around until her feet knew to stop. She entered a door, and there she saw nailed up on the wall the document that had been stamped with the gold seal and framed in the gold frame, which matched the cream that was hung up in her head. "Here I be," she said. There was a fixed and ceremonial stiffness over her body. "A charity cases, I suppose," said an attendant who sat at the desk before her. But Phoenix only looked above her head. There was sweat on her face, the wrinkles in her skin shone like a bright net. "Speak up, Grandma," the woman said. "What"s your name? We must have your history, you know. Have you been here before? Want seems to be the trouble with you?" Old Phoenix only gave a twitch to her face as if a fly were bothering her. "Are you deaf?" cried the attendant. But then the nurse came in. "Oh, that"s just old Aunt Phoenix," she said. "She doesn"t come for herself she has a little grandson. She makes these trips just as regular as clockwork. She lives away back off the old Natchez Trace." She bent down. "Well, Aunt Phoenix, why don"t you just take a seat? We won"t keep you standing after your long trip." She pointed. The old woman sat down, bolt upright in the chair. "Now, how is the boy?" asked the nurse. Old Phoenix did not speak. "I said, how is the boy?" But Phoenix only waited and stared straight ahead, her face very solemn and withdrawn into rigidity. "Is his throat any better?" asked the nurse. "Aunt Phoenix, don"t you hear me? Is your grandson"s throating any better since the last time you came for the medicine?" With her hands on her knees, the old woman waited, silent, erect and motionless, just as if she were in armor. "You mustn"t take up our time this way, Aunt Phoenix," the nurse said. "Tell us quickly about your grandson, and get it over. He isn"t dead, is he?" At last there came a flicker and then a flame of comprehension across her face, and she spoke. "My grandson. It was my memory had left me. There I sat and forgot why I made my long trip." "Forgot?" The nurse frowned. "After you came so far?" Then Phoenix was like an old woman begging a dignified forgiveness for waking up frightened in the night. "I never did go to school, I was too old at the Surrender," she said in a soft voice. "I"m an old woman without an education. It was my memory fail me. My little grandson, he is just the same, and I forgot it in the coming." "Throat never heals, does it?" said the nurse, speaking in a loud, sure voice to old Phoenix. By now she had a card with something written on it, a little list. Yes. Swallowed lye. When was it? —January—two, three years ago... Phoenix spoke unasked now. "No, missy, he not dead, he just the same. Every little while his throat begin to close up again, and he not able to swallow. He not get his breath. He not able to help himself. So the time come around, and I go on another trip for the soothing medicine." "All right. The doctor said as long as you came to get it, you could have it," said the nurse. "But it"s art obstinate case." "My little grandson, he sit up there in the house all wrapped up, waiting by himself," Phoenix went on. "We is the only two left in the world. He suffer and it don"t seem to put him back at all. He got a sweet look. He going to last. He wear a little patch quilt and peep out holding his mouth open like a little bird. I remember so plain now. I not going to forget him again, no, the whole enduring time. I could tell him from all the others in creation." "All right." The nurse was trying to hush her now. She brought her a bottle of medicine. Charity, she said, making a check mark in a book. Old Phoenix held the bottle close to her eyes, and then carefully put it into her pocket. "I thank you," she said. "It"s Christmas time, Grandma," said the attendant. "Could I give you a few pennies out of my purse?" "Five pennies is a nickel," said Phoenix stiffly. "Here"s a nickel," said the attendant. Phoenix rose carefully and held out her hand. She received the nickel and then fished the other nickel out of her pocket and laid it beside the new one. She stared at her palm closely, with her head on one side. Then she gave a tap with her cane on the floor. "This is what come to me to do," she said. "I going to the store and buy my child a little windmill they sells, made out of paper. He going to find it hard to believe three such a thing in the world. I"ll march myself back where he waiting, holding it straight up in this hand." She lifted her free hand, gave a little nod, turned around, and walked out of the doctor"s office. Then her slow step began on the stairs, going down.

问答题Directions: In this part, you are allowed to write a letter to express your concern for the hurricane of your friend"s hometown. You should write a letter to your friend to show the sympathy. You should write about 100 words on ANSWER SHEET 2. Do not sign your own name at the end of the letter. Use "Zhang Wei" instead. Do not write the address.

问答题Do the suffixes -able in workable, -ness in workableness change the word class of the words to which they are attached? Are they bound morphemes or free morphemes? Inflections or derivations?

问答题What do you think is the relationship between language and thought? Elaborate on your view with respect to the Sapir-Whorf hypothesis.

问答题Passage2 近几年来，国家公务员考试成为中国竞争激烈的考试之一。自1995年国家公务员考试推行以来，报考公务员日渐升温，今年又创新高。《中国青年报》和腾讯网联合开展的一项最新在线调查显示，73名以上的年轻人愿意当公务员。在17,330名调查对象中，约83%的人说，他们主要看重公务员工作稳定、医疗和养老都有保障。去年，近100万人报考了国家公务员，而最后只有1万多人被录用。据人事部公务员管理司有关负责人介绍，公务员报考持续“升温”也是由于进一步放宽了报考条件，如，没有专业、政治面貌、户籍、工作经历等限制。

问答题Juggling a job with looking after kids means the average British mum just gets 26 minutes to herself, a study reveals. The report—issued to coincide with International Women"s Day—also found no let-up in later life when kids have left home, because once they become grans they end up looking after little ones all over again. The report reveals the pressures modern-day mums face compared to previous generations dating back to the 1930s. Key findings are: Three out of 10 reckon they have far less "me time" than their own mothers did—barely three hours a week on average. Dads still fail to shoulder their fair share at home. Three in 10 of the 1,000 women who took part in the study confessed to feeling under constant pressure to be "the perfect mother". Researcher Kate Fox said: "There is increasing pressure on mothers to work a "double shift"—to be the perfect mother as well as a wage-earner."

问答题Read the following passage and answer three questions. Teachers employ different types of conceptual organization and meaning. One level of meaning relates to subject matter knowledge and how curricular and content aspects of teaching are conceptualized (Shulman 1987). Woods (1996) describes teachers" conceptions of lessons as made up of conceptual units at different levels of abstraction. He distinguishes between the following: overall conceptual goals —the overall purposes teachers identify for a course; global conceptual units —the individual subcomponents of the curriculum (e. g., the grammar, reading, writing, and listening components of an integrated skills course); intermediate conceptual units -activities or clusters of activities framed in terms of accomplishing one of the higher-level conceptual goals; and local conceptual units —the specific things teachers do to achieve particular instructional effects. Other constructs that have been proposed to account for how teachers realize the curricular agendas they set for lessons and the kinds of cognitive processes they employ include lesson formats (Wong-Fillmore 1985), tasks (Doyle 1983), scripts , and routines (Shavelson and Stem 1981). Constructs such as these seek to describe how teachers approach the subject matter of teaching and how they transform content into learning. Much of this research draws on a framework of cognitive psychology and has provided evidence of the kinds of pedagogical content knowledge, reasoning, and problem solving teachers make use of as they teach (Cliff 1991). In addition to the curricular goals and content, teachers have other more personal views of teaching (Johnston 1990). Zeichner, Tabachnick, and Densmore (1987) try to capture this with the notion of perspective, which they define as the ways in which teachers understand, interpret, and define their environment and use such interpretation to guide their actions. They followed teachers through their year-long professional training and their first year in the classroom, and found that their personal perspectives served as powerful influences on how they taught. In describing the basis for teachers" conceptualizations of good practice, Clandinin (1985, 1986) introduced the concept of image , which she describes as "a central construct for understanding teachers" knowledge" (1985:362). An image is a metaphor, such as "the classroom as home," "setting up a relationship with children," or "meeting the needs of students," that teachers may have in mind when they teach. Johnston (1992) suggests that images such as these are not always conscious, that they reflect how teachers view themselves in their teaching contexts, and that they form the subconscious assumptions on which their teaching practices are based. In a study of what second language teachers perceive to be good classes, Senior (1995) found that experienced ESL teachers in an Australian educational setting attempting to implement a communicative methodology appeared to have arrived at the tacit assumption that, to promote successful language learning, it is necessary to develop a bonded class—that is, one in which there is a positive, mutually supportive group atmosphere. The teachers appeared to employ a range of both conscious and unconscious strategies in order to develop a spirit of cohesion within their class groups. Halkes and Deijkers (1984) refer to teachers" teaching criteria , which are defined as "personal subjective values a person tries to pursue or keep constant while teaching." Teachers hold personal views of themselves, their learners, their goals, and their role in the classroom and they presumably try to reflect these in their practice. Marland (1987) examined the principles used to guide and interpret teaching, and identified five such working principles that were derived from stimulated recall interviews with teachers. For example, the "principle of progressive checking" involved checking students" progress periodically, identifying problems, and providing individual encouragement for low-ability students. Conners (1978) studied elementary teachers and found that all of those in her study used three overarching principles of practice to guide and explain their interactive teaching behavior: "suppressing emotions," "teacher authenticity," and "self-monitoring." The "principle of teacher authenticity" involved the teacher presenting herself in such a way that good personal relationships with students and a socially supportive classroom atmosphere would be achieved. This principle required the teacher to attempt to be open, sincere, and honest, as well as fallible.

问答题Tell the sense relation between a and b in each pair: 1) a. John's car is secondhand. b. John has a car. 2) a. Mary helped Jane. b. Jane was helped by Mary.

问答题inflection

问答题Read utterances 1a), 2a) and 3a) and 1b), 2b) and 3b) carefully. i. Which do you consider to be more polite, 1a), 2a) and 3a) and 1b), 2b) and 3b) and why? ii. Please explain what your understanding of politeness is in the Chinese culture. 1a)You could be more careful. 1b)You weren't careful enough. 2a)Her performance was so good as it might have been. 2b)Her performance was quite poor. 3a)I've tasted better apricots than these. 3b)These apricots taste awful.

问答题If we guillotine the king, then he will die. Therefore, if we don"t guillotine the king, then he won"t die.

问答题Directions: In this part, you are allowed to write a letter to Mr. Li, your friend who is going to visit you during vacation. You should write him a letter 1) to express the welcome; 2) to suggest the plan about the visit; 3) to remind what to do when he visits. You should write about 100 words on ANSWER SHEET 2. Do not write your own name at the end of the letter. Use "Zhang Wei" instead. Do not write the address.

问答题What is the Interaction Hypothesis? What implications does this hypothesis have for the practice of language teaching?

问答题Discuss the following two sentences, and tell why we can assign different values (meanings) to the year of fifteen: She is already fifteen, and yet she is crying over such a small thing. She has done it very well; she is only fifteen, you know.