英语学习

2022-03-22 06:56:20   文档大全网     [ 字体: ] [ 阅读: ]

#文档大全网# 导语】以下是®文档大全网的小编为您整理的《英语学习》,欢迎阅读!
英语学习
如何在30分钟内快速写完文章:熟悉考场写作三个步骤的时间分配

第一步:审题、确定立场、列出理由(只需要在草稿纸上用英文单词或汉语列出各个理由,防止遗忘),最少3分钟最多5分钟。要避免两个极端:

a.用时太少,理由没有想清楚就开始写,不仅造成文章逻辑结构不清,还会引起行文中频繁的修正,欲速则不达。

b.用时太多,不要追求一次思考就能把每一条理由及相关例证都想出来。其实想出两条之后就可以动笔,各个理由的例证可以写到该段时边思考边写。这一点你不必怀疑,只要你的思维还是正常的,一定能做到。 第二步:正文写作,最少22分钟最多26分钟:

a.各段写作时注意对段落的不同部分给予不同的重视。主题句给予最大重视,注意炼句,别说你不想写主题句,主题句可以使读者和笔者本人更清晰该段落写什么。各段中支持性细节写作不必遵循相同的模式。

n种选择可供参考:1.举具体事例;2.说对方相对缺点;3.使用数据;4.使用假想例子;5.使用类比、比喻、引用等修辞手段来论述。哪一种你最容易想出来,就用哪一种。

b.考前将文章开头、结尾、例证、让步等各种句型背熟练,并且练习和模考时把他们用熟,要像做完型填空一样对待考场作文。别试图在考场上再去临时决定比如哪种开头好,怎样结尾好。使用自己选种的套话。

c.当被告知还有5分钟结束时,一般你应该已经写到最后一条理由,或者已经在做结尾。要确保文章有结尾段(不排除将它和最后一条理由的末段结合在一起的可能性)。

第三步:检查。需要1-3分钟,有侧重点地检查。

a.句法:确保每句话是完整的,有谓语,且简单句只有一个谓语。

b.时态:文章绝大部分使用的是一般现在时;一般现在时第三人称要使用单数;使用过去发生的事例时用的是过去时; c.主谓一致

按此三步,持续练习5篇以上,可以确保时间问题。 * 如何在30分钟行文的整个过程中保持书面整洁:

ATWE要求必须用铅笔写作文,你要自己准备好铅笔和橡皮。橡皮要有韧性,太硬会擦破纸,有错误要擦干净再改;

B、第一遍写作时要求字迹不要太大也不要太小,通常一行写10-12个左右单词为宜。如果书法不好,可以在考前练习写一下斜体26个字母。

来源:搜狐教育社区

Joke of Today

One Engine Left

A 747 was halfway across the Atlantic when the captain got on the loud speaker, "Attention, passengers. We have lost one of our engines, but we can certainly reach London with the three we have left. Unfortunately, we will arrive an

hour late as a result."



Shortly thereafter, the passengers heard the captain's voice again, "Guess what, folks. We just lost our third engine,

but please be assured we can fly with only one. We will now arrive in London three hours late."



At this point, one passenger became furious. "For Pete's sake," he shouted, "If we lose another engine, we'll be up

here all night!"




母亲的手

Night after night, she came to tuck me in, even long after my childhood years. Following her longstanding custom, she'd lean down and push my long hair out of the way, then kiss my forehead.

I don't remember when it first started annoying me her hands pushing my hair that way. But it did annoy me, for they felt work-worn and rough against my young skin. Finally, one night, I shouted out at her, "Don't do that anymore your hands are too rough!" She didn't say anything in reply. But never again did my mother close out my day with that familiar expression of her love.

Time after time, with the passing years, my thoughts returned to that night. By then I missed my mother's hands, missed her goodnight kiss on my forehead. Sometimes the incident seemed very close, sometimes far away. But always it lurked, in the back of my mind.

Well, the years have passed, and I'm not a little girl anymore. Mom is in her mid-seventies, and those hands I once thought to be so rough are still doing things for me and my family. She's been our doctor, reaching into a medicine cabinet for the remedy to calm a young girl's stomach or soothe the boy's scraped knee. She cooks the best fried chicken in the world... gets stains out of blue jeans like I never could...

Now, my own children are grown and gone. Mom no longer has Dad, and on special occasions, I find myself drawn next door to spend the night with her. So it was late on Thanksgiving Eve, as I slept in the bedroom of my youth, a familiar hand hesitantly run across my face to brush the hair from my forehead. Then a kiss, ever so gently, touched my brow.

In my memory, for the thousandth time, I recalled the night my young voice complained, "Don't do that anymore your hands are too rough!" Catching Mom's hand in hand, I blurted out how sorry I was for that night. I thought she'd remember, as I did. But Mom didn't know what I was talking about. She had forgotten and forgiven long ago. That night, I fell asleep with a new appreciation for my gentle mother and her caring hands. And the guilt that I had carried around for so long was nowhere to be found.

The Best love

I have a friend who is falling in love. She honestly claims the sky is bluer. Mozart moves her to tears. She has lost 15 pounds and looks like a cover girl.

“I'm young again!” she shouts exuberantly.

As my friend raves on about her new love, I’ve taken a good look at my old one. My husband of almost 20 years, Scott, has gained 15 pounds. Once a marathon runner, he now runs only down hospital halls. His hairline is receding and his body shows the signs of long working hours and too many candy bars. Yet he can still give me a certain look across a restaurant table and I want to ask for the check and head home.

When my friend asked me “What will make this love last?” I ran through all the obvious reasons: commitment, shared interests, unselfishness, physical attraction, communication. Yet there’s more. We still have fun. Spontaneous good times. Yesterday, after slipping the rubber band off the rolled up newspaper, Scott flipped it playfully at me: this led to an all-out war. Last Saturday at the grocery, we split the list and raced each other to see who could make it to the checkout first. Even washing dishes can be a blast. We enjoy simply being together.

And there are surprises. One time I came home to find a note on the front door that led me to another note, then another, until I reached the walk-in closet. I opened the door to find Scott holding a “pot of gold” (my cooking kettle) and the “treasure” of a gift package. Sometimes I leave him notes on the mirror and little presents under his pillow. There is understanding. I understand why he must play basketball with the guys. And he understands why, once


a year, I must get away from the house, the kids and even him to meet my sisters for a few days of nonstop talking and laughing.

There is sharing. Not only do we share household worries and parental burdens we also share ideas. Scott came home from a convention last month and presented me with a thick historical novel. Though he prefers thrillers and science fiction, he had read the novel on the plane. He touched my heart when he explained it was because he wanted to be able to exchange ideas about the book after I’d read it.

There is forgiveness. When I’m embarrasssingly loud and crazy at parties, Scott forgives me. When he confessed losing some of our savings in the stock market, I gave him a hug and said, “It’s okay. It’s only money.”

There is sensitivity. Last week he walked through the door with that look that tells me it’s been a tough day. After he spent some time with the kids, I asked him what happened. He told me about a 60-year-old woman who’d had a stroke. He wept as he recalled the woman’s husband standing beside her bed, caressing her hand. How was he going to tell this husband of 40 years that his wife would probably never recover? I shed a few tears myself. Because of the medical crisis. Because there were still people who have been married 40 years. Because my husband is still moved and concerned after years of hospital rooms and dying patients.

There is faith. Last Tuesday a friend came over and confessed her fear that her husband is losing his courageous battle with cancer. On Wednesday I went to lunch with a friend who is struggling to reshape her life after divorce. On Thursday a neighbor called to talk about the frightening effects of Alzheimer’s disease on her father-in-law’s

personality. On Friday a childhood friend called long-distance to tell me her father had died. I hung up the phone and thought, this is too much heartache for one week. Through my tears, as I went out to run some errands, I noticed the boisterous orange blossoms of the gladiolus outside my window. I heard the delighted laughter of my son and his friend as they played. I caught sight of a wedding party emerging from a neighbor’s house. The bride, dressed in satin and lace, tossed her bouquet to her cheering friends. That night, I told my husband about these events. We helped each other acknowledge the cycles of life and that the joys counter the sorrows. It was enough to keep us going.

Finally, there is knowing. I know Scott will throw his laundry just shy of the hamper every night; he’ll be late to most appointments and eat the last chocolate in the box. He knows that I sleep with a pillow over my head; I’ll lock us out of the house at a regular basis, and I will also eat the last chocolate.

I guess our love lasts because it is comfortable. No, the sky is not bluer: it’s just a familiar hue. We don’t feel particularly young: we’ve experienced too much that has contributed to our growth and wisdom, taking its toll on our bodies, and created our memories.

I hope we’ve got what it takes to make our love last. As a bride, I had Scott’s wedding band engraved with Robert Browning’s line “Grow old along with me!” We’re following those instructions. “If anything is real, the heart will make it plain.”


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