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高中英语牛津译林版 (2019)必修 第一册Unit 2 Let's talk teens优秀当堂检测题
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这是一份高中英语牛津译林版 (2019)必修 第一册Unit 2 Let's talk teens优秀当堂检测题，共6页。
【导读】 《母亲的礼物》是美国作家苏珊妮·查馨的作品，是广大英语爱好者们津津乐道的一部书。书中的“我”回忆儿时与母亲在一起的点点滴滴，真正明白了在一个人成长的不同时期，母亲的陪伴和鼓励才是人世间最美的礼物。
My Mther's Gift(excerpt)
Suzanne Chazin
I grew up in a small twn where the elementary schl was a tenminute walk frm my huse and in an age，nt s lng ag，when children culd g hme fr lunch and find their mther waiting.
At the time，I did nt cnsider this a luxury，althugh tday it certainly wuld be.I tk it fr granted that mthers were the sandwichmakers，the fingerpainting appreciatins and the hmewrk mnitrs.I never questined that this ambitius，intelligent wman，wh had had a career befre I was brn and wuld eventually return t a career，wuld spend almst every lunch hur thrughut my elementary schl years just with me.
I nly knew that when the nn bell rang，I wuld race breathlessly hme.My mther wuld be standing at the tp f the stairs，smiling dwn at me with a lk that suggested I was the nly imprtant thing she had n her mind.Fr this，I am frever grateful.
Sme sunds bring it all back：the highpitched squeal f my mther's teakettle，the rumble f the washing machine in the basement，the jangle f my dg's license tags as she bunded dwn the stairs t greet me.Our time tgether seemed devid f the gerrymandered schedules that nw pervade my life.
One lunch time when I was in the third grade will stay with me always.I had been picked t be the princess in the schl play，and fr weeks my mther had painstakingly rehearsed my lines with me.But n matter hw easily I delivered them at hme，as sn as I stepped n stage，every wrd disappeared frm my head.
Finally，my teacher tk me aside.She explained that she had written a narratr's part t the play，and asked me t switch rles.Her wrds，kindly delivered，still stung，especially when I saw my part g t anther girl.
I didn't tell my mther what had happened when I went hme fr lunch that day.But she sensed my unease，and instead f suggesting we practice my lines，she asked if I wanted t walk in the yard.
It was a lvely spring day and the rse vine n the trellis was turning green.Under the huge elm trees，we culd see yellw dandelins ppping thrugh the grass in bunches，as if a painter had tuched ur landscape with dabs f gld.
I watched my mther casually bend dwn by ne f the clumps，“I think I'm ging t dig up all these weeds，”she said，yanking a blssm，up by it's rts.“Frm nw n，we'll have nly rses in this garden.”
“But I like dandelins，”I prtested.“All flwers are beautiful－even dandelins.”
My mther lked at me seriusly.“Yes，every flwer gives pleasure in its wn way，desn't it？”she asked thughtfully.I ndded，please that I had wn her ver.“And that is true f peple t，”she added.“Nt everyne can be a princess，but there is n shame in that.”
Relieved that she had guessed my pain，I started t cry as I tld her what had happened.She listened and smiled reassuringly.
“But yu will be a beautiful narratr，”she said，reminding me f hw much I lved t read stries alud t her.“The narratr's part is every bit as imprtant as the part f the princess.”
Over the next few weeks，with her cnstant encuragement，I learned t take pride in the rle.Lunch times were spent reading ver my lines and talking abut what I wuld wear.
Backstage the night f the perfrmance，I felt nervus.A few minutes befre the play，my teacher came ver t me.“Yur mther asked me t give this t yu，”she said，handing me a dandelin.Its edges were already beginning t curl and it flpped lazily frm its stem.But just lking at it，knwing my mther was ut there and thinking f ur lunchtime talk，made me prud.
After the play，I tk hme the flwer I had stuffed in the aprn f my cstume.My mther pressed it between tw sheets f paper tweling in a dictinary，laughing as she did it that we were perhaps the nly peple wh wuld press such a srrylking weed.
I ften lk back n ur lunchtimes tgether，bathed in the sft midday light.They were the cmmas in my childhd，the pauses that tld me life is nt savred in premeasured increments，but in the sum f daily rituals and small pleasures we casually share with lved nes.Over peanutbutter sandwiches and chclatechip ckies，I learned that lve.First and fremst，means being there fr the little things.
A few mnths ag，my mther came t visit.I tk a day ff wrk and treated her t lunch.The restaurant bustled nntime activity as businesspeple made deals and glanced at their watches.In the middle f all this sat my mther，nw retired，and I．Frm her face I culd see that she relished the pace f the wrk wrld.
“Mm，yu must have been terribly bred staying at hme when I was a child，”I said.
“Bred？Husewrk is bring.But yu were never bring.”
I didn't believe her s I pressed.“Surely children are nt as stimulating as a career.”
“A career is stimulating.” she said.“I'm glad I had ne.But a career is like an pen balln.It remains inflated nly as lng as yu keep pumping.A child is a seed.Yu water it.Yu care fr it the best yu can.And then it grws all by itself int a beautiful flwer.”
Just then，lking at her，I culd picture us sitting at her kitchen table nce again，and I understd why I kept that flaky brwn dandelin in ur ld family dictinary pressed between tw crumpled bits f paper twel.
母亲的礼物(节选)
苏珊妮·查馨
我是在一个小镇上长大的，从镇上的小学校到我家只需要步行十分钟。在距今不算太久远的那个时代，小学生可以回家吃午饭，而他们的母亲则会老早在家等候着。
这一切对如今的孩子来说，无疑是一种奢望，可是那时的我，却并不以为然。我觉得母亲给孩子做三明治、鉴赏指画和检查家庭作业都是理所当然的事。我母亲既有抱负，又很聪明。在我出生之前，她有份工作，而且她最终要重新谋份差事。可是，在我上小学那几年，她竟然放弃了工作，几乎天天陪着我吃午饭。她为什么要那样，我从来没有去想过，也丝毫不感到有什么奇怪。
我只知道中午放学铃声响，就一口气往家跑。母亲总是站在门前最高的那级台阶上，笑盈盈地望着我——那神情分明表示：我是母亲心目中唯一最重要的。为此，我一辈子都对母亲感激不尽。
如今，当我听到一些声音，像母亲那把茶壶水开时发出的尖叫声、地下室里洗衣机的隆隆声，还有我那条狗蹦下台阶对我摇头摆尾时，脖子上那牌照发出的撞击声，都勾起我对往事的回忆。在我现在的生活里，事先做好的安排往往任意改动。可是，和母亲在一起的那些岁月里，这样的现象似乎根本不存在。
我永远忘不了在我上三年级时的那顿午饭。原本我被学校选中，要在一个即将演出的小剧中扮演公主的角色。一连好几个礼拜，母亲总是不辞辛劳地陪着我一起背诵台词。可是，不管在家里背得怎么滚瓜烂熟，只要一上舞台，我的脑子里就成了一片空白。
最终，老师把我叫到了一边。她说剧中解说员这个角色的台词已写好了，想让我替换下来当解说员。尽管老师这些话说得和和气气，可是还是刺痛了我的心，特别是当我发觉自己扮演的公主角色让另一个女孩顶替时，更是如此。
那天回家吃午饭时，我没有把这事告诉母亲。然而，母亲察觉到我心神不定。因此，母亲没有再提练习背台词的事儿，而是问我愿意不愿意到院子里散散步。
那真是一个美好的春日，棚架上蔷薇的藤蔓正在转青。在一些高大的榆树下面，我们看到，一丛丛黄色的蒲公英冒出草坪，仿佛是一位画家为了给眼前的美景增色而特意加上的点点金色。
我看到母亲在一簇花丛旁漫不经心地弯下腰来。“我看得把这些野草都拔了，”她说，一边使劲把一丛蒲公英连根拔起，“往后我们这园子里只长蔷薇花。”
“可是我喜欢蒲公英，”我不满地说，“凡是花都好看——蒲公英也不例外。”
母亲严肃地看着我。“噢，这么说每朵花都有赏心悦目的地方喽？”她若有所思地问道。我点了点头，总算说服了母亲，这使我很得意。“可是人也一样呀！”母亲接着又发话，“不见得人人都能当公主，但当不了公主并不丢脸。”
母亲猜到了我的苦恼，这使我情绪安定下来，我哭了起来，把事情的经过讲给母亲听。母亲专注地听着，脸上带着安详的微笑。
“但你会成为一名很好的解说员。”母亲又说。她说平常我是多么喜欢朗诵故事给她听，还说：“从哪方面看，解说员这个角色都和公主的角色一样重要。”
往后的几个星期，在母亲的一再鼓励下，我渐渐地为担任旁白的角色感到骄傲。利用午饭的时间，我们又一起念台词，议论到时我该穿什么样的演出服装。
演出的那个晚上，我在后台，心里格外紧张。离演出只差几分钟了，老师走了过来。“你母亲让我把这个交给你，”说着她递过来一朵蒲公英。那花儿四周已开始卷曲，花瓣儿从梗上有气无力地下垂着。可是，只要看一眼，知道母亲就在外面等着，回想起和母亲利用午饭时间说的那些话，我就感到胸有成竹。
演出结束后，我把塞在演出服围裙里的那朵蒲公英带回了家。母亲用两张纸巾将花压平，夹在一本字典里。她一边忙碌一边笑，想到也许只有我们俩会珍藏这么一朵不起眼的野花。
我常常回忆起在和煦的阳光下和母亲共进午餐的那些美好时光。它们是我孩提时代经历的一件件平常小事，也就是那些平常小事使我明白了一个道理：人生的意义不在于个人的欲望能够一个接一个实现，而在于能够和我们所爱的人一起轻轻松松地过着平平常常的生活，分享每一个细小的欢乐。在享用母亲做的花生酱三明治和巧克力碎末甜饼的时候，我懂得了，爱就体现在这些细微之处。
几个月前，母亲来看我。我特意请了一天的假陪母亲吃午饭。饭馆里挤满了忙忙碌碌的人，商人们一边谈生意，还一边不时地看一看手表。如今已经退休的母亲和我就坐在这群人中间。从母亲的表情中，我看得出，母亲打心眼里喜欢上班族这种生活的节奏。
“妈，我小的时候，您老待在家里一定觉得很烦吧。”我说。
“烦？做家务是令人心烦的，不过你从来没有使我感到心烦过。”
我不相信这是实话，于是我又想法子套她的话：“看孩子哪会像工作那样富有刺激性呢！”
“工作是富有刺激性，”母亲答道，“很高兴我也有过工作。可是工作好比开了口的气球，你只有不停地充气，它才能鼓着劲。可是一个孩子就是颗种子。你浇灌它，全心全意地爱护它。然后，它就会自然而然地开出美丽的花朵来。”
此时此刻，我凝视着母亲，脑海里又浮现儿时和母亲一起坐在饭桌旁的情景，同时也明白了我为什么仍要把那朵已经变成棕色、一碰就碎的蒲公英用两片皱纸巾夹起来，珍藏在祖传的那本旧字典里。
[知识积累]
1． granted 认为……想当然；不把……当回事
2．breathlessly adv. 气喘吁吁地
3．painstakingly adv. 煞费苦心地
4．rehearse v． 排练，排演
5．deliver v． 发表演讲
6．picture v． 想象，构想
[文化链接]
《母亲的礼物》之礼物的诠释
在《母亲的礼物》这篇文章中，对礼物的诠释是呈递进式的。放学后母亲的耐心等候、亲手烹饪、共进午餐，是儿时母亲礼物的最佳诠释；三年级参加演出遭遇角色调换后的心情沮丧之时，母亲的善解人意与合理聪明的疏导方式造就了人世间最美的礼物；陪伴苦心排练以及演出之后的蒲公英相赠，用母爱之礼物告知孩子珍惜美好点滴。
【导读】 《母亲的礼物》是美国作家苏珊妮·查馨的作品，是广大英语爱好者们津津乐道的一部书。书中的“我”回忆儿时与母亲在一起的点点滴滴，真正明白了在一个人成长的不同时期，母亲的陪伴和鼓励才是人世间最美的礼物。
My Mther's Gift(excerpt)
Suzanne Chazin
I grew up in a small twn where the elementary schl was a tenminute walk frm my huse and in an age，nt s lng ag，when children culd g hme fr lunch and find their mther waiting.
At the time，I did nt cnsider this a luxury，althugh tday it certainly wuld be.I tk it fr granted that mthers were the sandwichmakers，the fingerpainting appreciatins and the hmewrk mnitrs.I never questined that this ambitius，intelligent wman，wh had had a career befre I was brn and wuld eventually return t a career，wuld spend almst every lunch hur thrughut my elementary schl years just with me.
I nly knew that when the nn bell rang，I wuld race breathlessly hme.My mther wuld be standing at the tp f the stairs，smiling dwn at me with a lk that suggested I was the nly imprtant thing she had n her mind.Fr this，I am frever grateful.
Sme sunds bring it all back：the highpitched squeal f my mther's teakettle，the rumble f the washing machine in the basement，the jangle f my dg's license tags as she bunded dwn the stairs t greet me.Our time tgether seemed devid f the gerrymandered schedules that nw pervade my life.
One lunch time when I was in the third grade will stay with me always.I had been picked t be the princess in the schl play，and fr weeks my mther had painstakingly rehearsed my lines with me.But n matter hw easily I delivered them at hme，as sn as I stepped n stage，every wrd disappeared frm my head.
Finally，my teacher tk me aside.She explained that she had written a narratr's part t the play，and asked me t switch rles.Her wrds，kindly delivered，still stung，especially when I saw my part g t anther girl.
I didn't tell my mther what had happened when I went hme fr lunch that day.But she sensed my unease，and instead f suggesting we practice my lines，she asked if I wanted t walk in the yard.
It was a lvely spring day and the rse vine n the trellis was turning green.Under the huge elm trees，we culd see yellw dandelins ppping thrugh the grass in bunches，as if a painter had tuched ur landscape with dabs f gld.
I watched my mther casually bend dwn by ne f the clumps，“I think I'm ging t dig up all these weeds，”she said，yanking a blssm，up by it's rts.“Frm nw n，we'll have nly rses in this garden.”
“But I like dandelins，”I prtested.“All flwers are beautiful－even dandelins.”
My mther lked at me seriusly.“Yes，every flwer gives pleasure in its wn way，desn't it？”she asked thughtfully.I ndded，please that I had wn her ver.“And that is true f peple t，”she added.“Nt everyne can be a princess，but there is n shame in that.”
Relieved that she had guessed my pain，I started t cry as I tld her what had happened.She listened and smiled reassuringly.
“But yu will be a beautiful narratr，”she said，reminding me f hw much I lved t read stries alud t her.“The narratr's part is every bit as imprtant as the part f the princess.”
Over the next few weeks，with her cnstant encuragement，I learned t take pride in the rle.Lunch times were spent reading ver my lines and talking abut what I wuld wear.
Backstage the night f the perfrmance，I felt nervus.A few minutes befre the play，my teacher came ver t me.“Yur mther asked me t give this t yu，”she said，handing me a dandelin.Its edges were already beginning t curl and it flpped lazily frm its stem.But just lking at it，knwing my mther was ut there and thinking f ur lunchtime talk，made me prud.
After the play，I tk hme the flwer I had stuffed in the aprn f my cstume.My mther pressed it between tw sheets f paper tweling in a dictinary，laughing as she did it that we were perhaps the nly peple wh wuld press such a srrylking weed.
I ften lk back n ur lunchtimes tgether，bathed in the sft midday light.They were the cmmas in my childhd，the pauses that tld me life is nt savred in premeasured increments，but in the sum f daily rituals and small pleasures we casually share with lved nes.Over peanutbutter sandwiches and chclatechip ckies，I learned that lve.First and fremst，means being there fr the little things.
A few mnths ag，my mther came t visit.I tk a day ff wrk and treated her t lunch.The restaurant bustled nntime activity as businesspeple made deals and glanced at their watches.In the middle f all this sat my mther，nw retired，and I．Frm her face I culd see that she relished the pace f the wrk wrld.
“Mm，yu must have been terribly bred staying at hme when I was a child，”I said.
“Bred？Husewrk is bring.But yu were never bring.”
I didn't believe her s I pressed.“Surely children are nt as stimulating as a career.”
“A career is stimulating.” she said.“I'm glad I had ne.But a career is like an pen balln.It remains inflated nly as lng as yu keep pumping.A child is a seed.Yu water it.Yu care fr it the best yu can.And then it grws all by itself int a beautiful flwer.”
Just then，lking at her，I culd picture us sitting at her kitchen table nce again，and I understd why I kept that flaky brwn dandelin in ur ld family dictinary pressed between tw crumpled bits f paper twel.
母亲的礼物(节选)
苏珊妮·查馨
我是在一个小镇上长大的，从镇上的小学校到我家只需要步行十分钟。在距今不算太久远的那个时代，小学生可以回家吃午饭，而他们的母亲则会老早在家等候着。
这一切对如今的孩子来说，无疑是一种奢望，可是那时的我，却并不以为然。我觉得母亲给孩子做三明治、鉴赏指画和检查家庭作业都是理所当然的事。我母亲既有抱负，又很聪明。在我出生之前，她有份工作，而且她最终要重新谋份差事。可是，在我上小学那几年，她竟然放弃了工作，几乎天天陪着我吃午饭。她为什么要那样，我从来没有去想过，也丝毫不感到有什么奇怪。
我只知道中午放学铃声响，就一口气往家跑。母亲总是站在门前最高的那级台阶上，笑盈盈地望着我——那神情分明表示：我是母亲心目中唯一最重要的。为此，我一辈子都对母亲感激不尽。
如今，当我听到一些声音，像母亲那把茶壶水开时发出的尖叫声、地下室里洗衣机的隆隆声，还有我那条狗蹦下台阶对我摇头摆尾时，脖子上那牌照发出的撞击声，都勾起我对往事的回忆。在我现在的生活里，事先做好的安排往往任意改动。可是，和母亲在一起的那些岁月里，这样的现象似乎根本不存在。
我永远忘不了在我上三年级时的那顿午饭。原本我被学校选中，要在一个即将演出的小剧中扮演公主的角色。一连好几个礼拜，母亲总是不辞辛劳地陪着我一起背诵台词。可是，不管在家里背得怎么滚瓜烂熟，只要一上舞台，我的脑子里就成了一片空白。
最终，老师把我叫到了一边。她说剧中解说员这个角色的台词已写好了，想让我替换下来当解说员。尽管老师这些话说得和和气气，可是还是刺痛了我的心，特别是当我发觉自己扮演的公主角色让另一个女孩顶替时，更是如此。
那天回家吃午饭时，我没有把这事告诉母亲。然而，母亲察觉到我心神不定。因此，母亲没有再提练习背台词的事儿，而是问我愿意不愿意到院子里散散步。
那真是一个美好的春日，棚架上蔷薇的藤蔓正在转青。在一些高大的榆树下面，我们看到，一丛丛黄色的蒲公英冒出草坪，仿佛是一位画家为了给眼前的美景增色而特意加上的点点金色。
我看到母亲在一簇花丛旁漫不经心地弯下腰来。“我看得把这些野草都拔了，”她说，一边使劲把一丛蒲公英连根拔起，“往后我们这园子里只长蔷薇花。”
“可是我喜欢蒲公英，”我不满地说，“凡是花都好看——蒲公英也不例外。”
母亲严肃地看着我。“噢，这么说每朵花都有赏心悦目的地方喽？”她若有所思地问道。我点了点头，总算说服了母亲，这使我很得意。“可是人也一样呀！”母亲接着又发话，“不见得人人都能当公主，但当不了公主并不丢脸。”
母亲猜到了我的苦恼，这使我情绪安定下来，我哭了起来，把事情的经过讲给母亲听。母亲专注地听着，脸上带着安详的微笑。
“但你会成为一名很好的解说员。”母亲又说。她说平常我是多么喜欢朗诵故事给她听，还说：“从哪方面看，解说员这个角色都和公主的角色一样重要。”
往后的几个星期，在母亲的一再鼓励下，我渐渐地为担任旁白的角色感到骄傲。利用午饭的时间，我们又一起念台词，议论到时我该穿什么样的演出服装。
演出的那个晚上，我在后台，心里格外紧张。离演出只差几分钟了，老师走了过来。“你母亲让我把这个交给你，”说着她递过来一朵蒲公英。那花儿四周已开始卷曲，花瓣儿从梗上有气无力地下垂着。可是，只要看一眼，知道母亲就在外面等着，回想起和母亲利用午饭时间说的那些话，我就感到胸有成竹。
演出结束后，我把塞在演出服围裙里的那朵蒲公英带回了家。母亲用两张纸巾将花压平，夹在一本字典里。她一边忙碌一边笑，想到也许只有我们俩会珍藏这么一朵不起眼的野花。
我常常回忆起在和煦的阳光下和母亲共进午餐的那些美好时光。它们是我孩提时代经历的一件件平常小事，也就是那些平常小事使我明白了一个道理：人生的意义不在于个人的欲望能够一个接一个实现，而在于能够和我们所爱的人一起轻轻松松地过着平平常常的生活，分享每一个细小的欢乐。在享用母亲做的花生酱三明治和巧克力碎末甜饼的时候，我懂得了，爱就体现在这些细微之处。
几个月前，母亲来看我。我特意请了一天的假陪母亲吃午饭。饭馆里挤满了忙忙碌碌的人，商人们一边谈生意，还一边不时地看一看手表。如今已经退休的母亲和我就坐在这群人中间。从母亲的表情中，我看得出，母亲打心眼里喜欢上班族这种生活的节奏。
“妈，我小的时候，您老待在家里一定觉得很烦吧。”我说。
“烦？做家务是令人心烦的，不过你从来没有使我感到心烦过。”
我不相信这是实话，于是我又想法子套她的话：“看孩子哪会像工作那样富有刺激性呢！”
“工作是富有刺激性，”母亲答道，“很高兴我也有过工作。可是工作好比开了口的气球，你只有不停地充气，它才能鼓着劲。可是一个孩子就是颗种子。你浇灌它，全心全意地爱护它。然后，它就会自然而然地开出美丽的花朵来。”
此时此刻，我凝视着母亲，脑海里又浮现儿时和母亲一起坐在饭桌旁的情景，同时也明白了我为什么仍要把那朵已经变成棕色、一碰就碎的蒲公英用两片皱纸巾夹起来，珍藏在祖传的那本旧字典里。
[知识积累]
1． granted 认为……想当然；不把……当回事
2．breathlessly adv. 气喘吁吁地
3．painstakingly adv. 煞费苦心地
4．rehearse v． 排练，排演
5．deliver v． 发表演讲
6．picture v． 想象，构想
[文化链接]
《母亲的礼物》之礼物的诠释
在《母亲的礼物》这篇文章中，对礼物的诠释是呈递进式的。放学后母亲的耐心等候、亲手烹饪、共进午餐，是儿时母亲礼物的最佳诠释；三年级参加演出遭遇角色调换后的心情沮丧之时，母亲的善解人意与合理聪明的疏导方式造就了人世间最美的礼物；陪伴苦心排练以及演出之后的蒲公英相赠，用母爱之礼物告知孩子珍惜美好点滴。
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