题目内容
Questions 1 to 5 are based on a conversation. At the end of the conversation, you will be given 10 seconds to answer each of the following 5 questions. Now listen to the conversation. When is the third writing assignment due
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Teachers and other specialists in early childhood education recognize that children develop at different rates. Given anything that resembles a well-rounded life — with adults and other children to listen to, talk to, do things with — their minds will acquire naturally all the skills required for further learning. Take for example, reading. The two strongest predictors of whether children will learn to read easily and well at school am whether they have learned the names and the sounds of letters of the alphabet before they start school, That may seem to imply that letter names and sounds should be deliberately taught to young children, because these skills will not happen naturally. But in all the research programs where they have done just that—instructed children, rehearsed the names and sounds over and over — the results are disappointing. The widely accepted explanation is that knowledge of the alphabet for it to work in helping one to read, has to be deeply embedded in the child’ s mind. That comes from years of exposure and familiarity with letters, from being read to, from playing with magnetic letters, drawing said fiddling with computers. So parents can do some things to help, although many do these things spontaneously. Instead of reading a story straight through, the reader should pause every so often and ask questions but not questions which can be answered by a yes or no. Extend their answers, suggest alternative possibilities and pose progressively more challenging questions. And with arithmetic do not explicitly sit down and teach children about numbers, but all those early years count when walking up steps. Recite nursery rhymes. Talk to children. Say this is a red apple, that is a green one, Please get three eggs out of the fridge for me The technical term in vogue for this subtle structuring of children’ s early learning is "scaffolding". Based on recent extensions of the work of the Russian psychologist Lev Vygotsky the idea is that there arc things a child may be almost ready to do. Anna, for example, cannot tie a shoelace by herself, but if an adult or a competent child forms one of the loops for her, she will soon learn to do the rest. Applying this concept to older children, one wonderful teacher has her children keep lists of "Words I can Almost Spell". While this has all the hallmarks of common sense, it represents a significant change of emphasis from the idea of Piaget, which have dominated the theory of early childhood learning. The child in Piaget’ s theory looks, more than anything, like a lime scientist — exploring the environment, observing, experimenting, thinking and slowly coming to his or her conclusions about how the world works. The image is of a rather solitary pursuit with ail the real action in the child’ s head. The Vygotsky model re-introduces all the people who also inhabit the child’ s world — parents, care-givers, relatives, siblings and ail those other children at play or school. They are not simply noise, clattering in the background while the child’ s developing mind struggles on its own. The cognitive development of the child, that is, the learning of colors or numbers or letters — depends on learning how to interact socially, how to learn from the people (as well as the things) in the environment. What is important is that the child develops the range of social skills — being able to express a preference, knowing how to take rams, being able to stand up for themselves, being able to get into a group, being able to make decisions, being able to share, having confidence to go off on their own. These all require careful nurturing, No one is telling parents not to think about their children’ s development It is just that it is more important to think about a child’ s desire to chat and the importance of social behavior and play activity, than the actually more trivial markers of intellectual achievement such as being the first kid in the group to cut a circle that looks like a circle. When the writer discusses Piaget’ s theory,
某公司以一栋价值450万元人民币的办公楼作抵押分别向甲银行和乙银行贷款200万元人民币，与甲银行签订的抵押合同在2009年4月12日签订，20日办理登记手续；与乙银行签订的抵押合同在2009年4月15日签订，并在当日办理登记手续。后来该公司无力还债，甲银行和乙银行行使抵押权将抵押物拍卖，得款360万元人民币，则( )。
It was eleven o’ clock that night when Mr. Pontellier returned from Klein’ s hotel. He was in an excellent humor, in high spirits, and very talkative. His entrance awoke his wife, who was in bed and fast asleep when he came in, He talked to her while he undressed, telling her anecdotes and bits of news and gossip that he had gathered during the day. From his trousers pockets he took a fistful of crumpled bank notes and a good deal of silver coin, which he piled on the bureau indiscriminately with keys, knife, handkerchief, and whatever else happened to be in his pockets, she was overcome with sleep, and answered him with little half utterances. He thought it very discouraging that his wife, who was the sole object of his existence, evinced so little interest in things which concerned him, and valued so little his conversation. Mr. Pontellier had forgotten the bonbons and peanuts for the boys. Notwithstanding he loved them very much, and went into the adjoining room where they were resting comfortably. The result of his investigation was far from satisfactory. He turned and shifted the youngsters about in bed. One of them began to kick and talk about a basket full of crabs. Mr. Pontellier returned to his wife with the information that Raoul had a high fever and needed looking after. Then he lit a cigar and went and sat near the open door to smoke it. Mrs. Pontellier was quite sure Raoul had no fever. He had gone to bed perfectly well, she said, and nothing had ailed him all day. Mr. Pontellier was too will acquainted with fever symptoms to be mistaken. He assured her the child was consuming at that moment in the next room. He reproached his wife with her inattention, her habitual neglect of the children. If it was not a mother’ s place to look after children, whose on earth was it He himself had his hands full with his brokerage business. He could not be in two places at once; making a living for his family on the street, and staying at home to see that no harm befell them. He talked in a monotonous, insistent way. Mrs. Pontellier sprang out of bed and went into the next room. She soon came back and sat on the edge of the bed, leaning her head down on the pillow. She said nothing, and refused to answer her husband when he questioned her. When his cigar was smoked out he went to bed, and in half a minute he was fast asleep. Mrs. Pontellier was by that time thoroughly awake. She began to cry a little, and wiped her eyes on the sleeve of her peignoir; Blowing out the candle, which her husband had left burning, she slipped her bare feet into a pair of satin mules at the foot, of the bed and went out on the porch, where she sat clown in the wicker chair and began to rock gently to and fro. It was then past midnight. The cottages were all dark. A single faint light gleamed out from the hallway of the house. There was no sound abroad except the hoofing of an old owl in the top of a water-oak, and the everlasting voice of the sea, that was not uplifted at that soft hour It broke like a mournful lullaby upon the night. The tears came so fast to Mrs. Pontellier’s eyes that the damp sleeve of her peignoir no longer served to dry them. She was holding the back of her chair with one hand; her loose sleeve had slipped almost to tile shoulder of her uplifted arm. Turning, she thrust her face, steaming and wet, into the bend of her arm, and she went on erying there, not earing any longer to dry her face, her eyes, her arms. She could not have told why she was crying. Such experiences as the foregoing were not uncommon in her married life. They seemed never before to have to have weighed much against the abundance of her husband’ s kindness and a uniform devotion which had come to be tacit and self-understood. An indescribable oppression, which seemed to generate ill some unfamiliar part of her consciousness, filled, her whole being with a vague anguish. It was like a shadow, like a mist passing across her soul’ s summer day. It was strange and unfamiliar; it was a mood, She did not sit there inwardly upbraiding her husband, lamenting at Fate, which had directed her footsteps to the path which they had taken. She was just having a good cry all to herself. The mosquitoes made merry over her, biting her firm, round arms and nipping at her bare insteps. The little stinging, buzzing imps succeeded in dispelling a mood which might have held her there in the darkness half a night longer. Mr. Pontellier felt extremely frustrated because ______.
It was eleven o’ clock that night when Mr. Pontellier returned from Klein’ s hotel. He was in an excellent humor, in high spirits, and very talkative. His entrance awoke his wife, who was in bed and fast asleep when he came in, He talked to her while he undressed, telling her anecdotes and bits of news and gossip that he had gathered during the day. From his trousers pockets he took a fistful of crumpled bank notes and a good deal of silver coin, which he piled on the bureau indiscriminately with keys, knife, handkerchief, and whatever else happened to be in his pockets, she was overcome with sleep, and answered him with little half utterances. He thought it very discouraging that his wife, who was the sole object of his existence, evinced so little interest in things which concerned him, and valued so little his conversation. Mr. Pontellier had forgotten the bonbons and peanuts for the boys. Notwithstanding he loved them very much, and went into the adjoining room where they were resting comfortably. The result of his investigation was far from satisfactory. He turned and shifted the youngsters about in bed. One of them began to kick and talk about a basket full of crabs. Mr. Pontellier returned to his wife with the information that Raoul had a high fever and needed looking after. Then he lit a cigar and went and sat near the open door to smoke it. Mrs. Pontellier was quite sure Raoul had no fever. He had gone to bed perfectly well, she said, and nothing had ailed him all day. Mr. Pontellier was too will acquainted with fever symptoms to be mistaken. He assured her the child was consuming at that moment in the next room. He reproached his wife with her inattention, her habitual neglect of the children. If it was not a mother’ s place to look after children, whose on earth was it He himself had his hands full with his brokerage business. He could not be in two places at once; making a living for his family on the street, and staying at home to see that no harm befell them. He talked in a monotonous, insistent way. Mrs. Pontellier sprang out of bed and went into the next room. She soon came back and sat on the edge of the bed, leaning her head down on the pillow. She said nothing, and refused to answer her husband when he questioned her. When his cigar was smoked out he went to bed, and in half a minute he was fast asleep. Mrs. Pontellier was by that time thoroughly awake. She began to cry a little, and wiped her eyes on the sleeve of her peignoir; Blowing out the candle, which her husband had left burning, she slipped her bare feet into a pair of satin mules at the foot, of the bed and went out on the porch, where she sat clown in the wicker chair and began to rock gently to and fro. It was then past midnight. The cottages were all dark. A single faint light gleamed out from the hallway of the house. There was no sound abroad except the hoofing of an old owl in the top of a water-oak, and the everlasting voice of the sea, that was not uplifted at that soft hour It broke like a mournful lullaby upon the night. The tears came so fast to Mrs. Pontellier’s eyes that the damp sleeve of her peignoir no longer served to dry them. She was holding the back of her chair with one hand; her loose sleeve had slipped almost to tile shoulder of her uplifted arm. Turning, she thrust her face, steaming and wet, into the bend of her arm, and she went on erying there, not earing any longer to dry her face, her eyes, her arms. She could not have told why she was crying. Such experiences as the foregoing were not uncommon in her married life. They seemed never before to have to have weighed much against the abundance of her husband’ s kindness and a uniform devotion which had come to be tacit and self-understood. An indescribable oppression, which seemed to generate ill some unfamiliar part of her consciousness, filled, her whole being with a vague anguish. It was like a shadow, like a mist passing across her soul’ s summer day. It was strange and unfamiliar; it was a mood, She did not sit there inwardly upbraiding her husband, lamenting at Fate, which had directed her footsteps to the path which they had taken. She was just having a good cry all to herself. The mosquitoes made merry over her, biting her firm, round arms and nipping at her bare insteps. The little stinging, buzzing imps succeeded in dispelling a mood which might have held her there in the darkness half a night longer. Mr. Pontellier came back in a/an______state of mind.
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