新视野2词汇unit4
2010-05-29 10:46阅读：
departure n. 1.离开，离去，出发 2.背离
routine a. 日常的，常规的，例行的
n. 例行公事（手续），常规
eighteen num. 十八，十八个
abroad ad. 1.在国外，到国外，出国 2.广为传播
host n. 1.主人，东道主 2.主持人 3.大量, 许多
vt. 做…… 东道主（或主持人）
fluent a. （说话、写作等）熟练的，流畅的
authority n. 1.掌权的人, 掌权的一班人, 当局 2.具有专业知识的人, 权威 3.权力，权威，权势
grant vt. 准许，允许，答应给予
n. 授予之物（尤指政府拨款、补助金、助学金）
certificate n. 证明，证书，执照
seventeen num. 十七，十七个
conductor n. 1.[C] (乐队、合唱) 指挥 2.公共汽车售票员; 列车员
specify vt. 明确说明，具体指定
overseas a. (在、到、来自) 海外的，外国的
ad. 在海外；在国外
Christian a. 基督教（徒）的
n. 基督教徒
◆deduct vt. 扣除，减去
deduction n. 扣除
insurance n. 1.保险 2.保险费，保险金额
◆abortion n. 流产，堕胎
suicide n. 1.自杀 2.自取灭亡
dental a. 牙齿的，牙科的
eyesight n. 视力，目力
accustomed a. 1.惯常的 2.习惯于
suggestion n.
1.所提出或建议的主意，计划，人选 2.细微的迹象
item n. 1.目录的条款，项目 2.（新闻的）一条
luggage n. 行李
descend v. 下来，下降
await vt. 1.(指人) 等候 2.备妥以待，等待
domestic a. 1.国内的，本国的 2.家的，家庭的，家务的
adapt vi. 使适应（新情况）
vt. 1.使适应（新用途，新情况） 2.改写，改编, 改装
bean n. 豆
◆nourish vt. 1.滋养，给予营养，养育 2.持有或怀有（情绪）；增进（情感）
pine vi. 1.不快活，悲伤 2.渴望，思念
n. 松树, 松木
regulation n. 1.规章，规则，条例 2.管理，节制，调节，控制
command n. 1.掌握，控制 2.命令
vt. 1.能够支配，可以使用 2.（指上级，当局）命令，指挥
fare n. 车费，船费，乘客购票所付的费用
vi. 进展
Phrases and Expressions
at first glance 乍一看；最初看到时
as long as 只要
live through 经历，经受住
dream of 想象，梦想，向往
plan on 为……做准备
work out 设计，计划
depend on 视 …… 而定
hit the target 达到目的，中肯
in the event of 如果……发生
take on 决定做, 承担工作
lack of 缺乏，缺少，不足
take along 带着 (某人或某物), 带走 (某人或某物)
to (one's) capacity 满座的，满载的
leave behind 留下 (某物或某人)
from then on 从那以后
in turn 依次，逐个地
◆exile n. 1.放逐，流放，流亡 2.自己选择或被迫居留国外的人
vt. 放逐, 充军
echo vi. 发出回声, 产生回响
vt. （指地方）发回声
n. 回音，回声
guidance n. 引导，领导，指导
destination n. 目的地
directly ad. 1.直接地, 一直地, 直截了当地 2.立刻, 立即, 马上
indirectly ad. 间接地
■sardine n. [C] 沙丁鱼
sausage n. [C, U] 香肠，腊肠
◆dine vt. 吃饭，进餐
tremendous a. 1.巨大的，极大的 2.很好的，非常好的
infinite a. 无限的，无穷的
territory n. 1.领土，领地，版图 2.领域，势力范围
boring a. 无趣的, 令人厌烦的
cease n. 停止，终止
v. 停止
ceaseless a. 不停的，连续的，无休止的
scissors n. (pl.) 剪刀
shrink vi. 1.退缩，畏缩 2.(尤指因受潮、受热或受冷) 收缩; 缩小
vt. 收缩，缩小
landscape n. 1.陆上风景 2.风景画
tedious a. 冗长的，沉闷的，乏味的
spectacular a. 壮观的，场面富丽的
stream n. 小溪，川，河
vi. 流 (出), 涌 (出)
forbid vt. 不许，禁止
recoil vi. 退却，退缩，畏缩
dynamic a. 1.精力充沛的，有活力的 2.动力的
n. 产生变化、行动或影响的力量
prosperous a. 成功的，繁荣的，兴盛的
◆millionaire n. 百万富翁，大富豪，大财主
■pickle n. [C, U] 腌菜，泡菜
prosperity n. 繁荣，昌盛，成功
fairy n. 仙女，仙子
whatsoever ad. (用在no+名词, nothing, none 的后面，以加强语气) 任何
◆emigrate vi. (自本国) 移居它国
emigration n. 移民，移居 (外国)
objection n. 1.厌恶，异议，反对 2.反对的理由
magnificent a. 1.壮丽的，宏伟的 2.极好的
scenery n. 1.景色，风光，风景 2.舞台布景，道具
identical a. 1.一模一样的，完全相同的 2.同一的
sailor n. 水手，海员
gray (英grey) a. 1.灰色的，灰白的 2.阴沉的，昏暗的
n. 灰色
rainy a. (指某日、某时期) 多雨的，雨水连绵的; (指天空、天气) 下雨的，阴雨的，多雨的
remarkable a. 值得注意的，引人注目的，不寻常的
unremarkable a. 不值得注意的，不显著的，平凡的
embrace n. 拥抱
vt. 1.拥抱 2.包含，包括
warmth n. 1.热情，热烈 2.温暖，温和
kneel vi. 跪下，跪倒
Phrases and Expressions
all the longer 更长
(be) full of 满的，充满……的，装满……的
know about 听说过有关……的情况
bring with 拿来，取来，带来
pay for 付给，付款
divide into 划分，分割，分开
make a fortune 发财
dress sb. in 给……穿衣服
with a heavy heart 心情沉重，不开心
make sure 查明，证实，了解清楚
after all 究竟，终究，毕竟
Studying Abroad
Flight 830. Departure 10:45 p.m.
At first glance, this is just another
routine flight to Los Angeles, California. Yet for 38 young
passengers between fifteen and eighteen years of age, it is the
start of a new experience: they will spend 10 months of their lives
studying abroad, far from their families.
Every year the United States is
host to an average of 78,000 foreign high school level students, of
which 3,000 are Brazilian. All of them go for the same reasons --
to become fluent in English, complete high school, and understand
everything they can about the American way of life. At the end of
each semester, as long as the students pass final exams, American
authorities grant a certificate, which is recognized in
Brazil.
For the majority, the decision to study
abroad is taken only after a period of at least six months of
careful planning. 'For me,' says seventeen - year - old Gloria
Marcato, 'it's more important to learn to speak English and to live
through this experience than it is to receive a certificate from
the American government.' Others dream of continuing on to college.
'I want to be a conductor, and I've already chosen the best
American music school,' specifies Sandro Rodrigo de Barros.
Things, as they say, are not always so
easy. Even young students who plan on staying in the United States
just long enough to finish two semesters of high school have
difficulty finding a host family. Very few arrive in the country
with all the details worked out. Gloria Marcato is one of the lucky
ones. Before leaving, she had received two letters and some photos
of her new 'parents.' 'I think it all depends,' says Gloria, 'on
how you answer the survey sent by the overseas study company here
in Brazil. For example, I didn't economize on words. I even wrote
about my four dogs, and said I went to church every Sunday.' She
hit the target. Americans are quite religious (the majority being
Christian) and have a special place in their hearts for pets.
American families, which host foreign students, are not paid,
though they are allowed a small income tax deduction.
Each teenager is expected to cover his or
her own expenses for articles for personal use, entertainment,
long-distance telephone calls and clothing. Towards this, they
should budget between $200 to $300 a month. In the event of
illness, each student has a medical assistance card. Health
insurance does not cover AIDS, abortion and suicide, nor dental and
eyesight bills.
Basically, most students leave knowing they
will have to do without their accustomed parental protection and
learn to take care of themselves. However, no one packs his or her
bags alone. Parents always give suggestions, or even take on the
task themselves. The youngsters frequently show their lack of
practice at such things. They take along unnecessary items. One
student from the Brazilian South succeeded in stuffing two enormous
suitcases to their capacity, and had to cope with her cabin luggage
as well. As a result, she couldn't pull them around by
herself.
For many, the departure at the airport is
the worst time. Even though friends and family support the idea of
going, it is difficult to say good-bye at this moment. 'It's not
easy to leave behind the people you love, especially a boyfriend. I
cried at the departure and I cried on the plane too,' says Patricia
Caglian.
Another moment of tension descends while
students await the domestic flight that will take them to their
temporary home in America. From then on it's everyone for himself.
No one really knows how she/he will adapt to such new customs.
Though most foreign students remain in California, some are sent to
Texas, Arizona, Idaho, Oklahoma or Virginia.
After a few days, the general complaint is
about the food. 'Even though I adapted easily, I really miss rice
and beans. The food here doesn't look too nourishing,' pines
Fernando Andrade. Another big problem encountered by most
youngsters is how sick they feel about being away from home.
One important regulation of the foreign
study program has to do with the time, established by the host
'parents', by which the teenagers must arrive home on weekend
nights. 'They're really tough,' says Juliana Martini, who just
finished her first semester. 'You have to be in by 10:30 p.m., and
if you do not obey, you get punished.'
A few teenagers arrive in the United States
with little command of English. In such cases the sole solution is
private language study. This in turn pushes up the program cost,
estimated at about $3,800, including air fare.
Words: 776
Experiences in Exile
（ Experiences in Exile ）
We are in Montreal, in an echoing, dark
train station, and we are squeezed together on a bench waiting for
someone to give us some guidance. Eventually, a man speaking broken
Polish approaches us, takes us to the ticket window, and then helps
us board our train. And so begins yet another segment of this
longest journey — all the longer because we don't exactly know when
it will end, when we'll reach our destination. We only know that
Vancouver is very far away.
The people on the train look at us
indirectly, and avoid sitting nearby. This may be because we've
brought suitcases full of dried cake, canned sardines, and
sausages, which would keep during the long journey. We don't know
about dining cars, and when we discover that this train has such a
thing, we can hardly afford to go there once a day on the few
dollars that my father has brought with him. Two dollars could buy
a bicycle, or several pairs of shoes in Poland. It seems like a
tremendous sum to pay for four bowls of soup.
The train cuts through infinite territory,
most of it flat and boring, and it seems to me that the ceaseless
rhythm of the wheels is like scissors cutting a three-thousand-mile
rip through my life. From now on, my life will be divided into two
parts, with the line drawn by that train.
After a while, I shrink into a silent
indifference, and I don't want to look at the landscape anymore;
these are not the friendly fields, the farmyards of Polish
countryside; this is vast, tedious, and formless. By the time we
reach the Rockies, my parents try to make me look at the
spectacular landscapes we're passing by. But I don't want to. These
peaks and valleys, these mountain streams and enormous rocks hurt
my eyes; they hurt my soul. They're too big, too forbidding, and I
can't imagine feeling that I'm part of them, and that I'm in them.
I retreat into sleep; I sleep through the day and the night, and my
parents can't shake me out of it. My sister, perhaps recoiling even
more deeply from all this strangeness, is ill with a fever and can
hardly raise her head.
On the second day, we briefly meet a
passenger who speaks Yiddish. My father enters into a dynamic
conversation with him and learns some entertaining tales. For
example, there's the story of a Polish Jew who came to Canada and
became prosperous (he's now a millionaire !) by producing Polish
pickles. Pickles! If one can make a fortune on that, well — it
shouldn't be hard to achieve prosperity in this country. My father
is excited by this story, but I retreat into an even more
determined silence. 'Millionaire' is one of those words from a
fairy tale that has no meaning to me whatsoever — like the words
'emigration'; and 'Canada.' In spite of my parents' objections, I
go back to sleep, and I miss some of the most magnificent scenery
on the North American continent.
By the time we've reached Vancouver, there
are very few people left on the train. My mother has dressed my
sister and me in our best clothes — identical navy blue dresses
with sailor collars and gray coats. My parents' faces reflect
anticipation and anxiety. 'Get off the train on the right foot,' my
mother tells us. 'For luck in the new life.'
I look out of the train window with a heavy
heart. Where have I been brought? As the train approaches the
station, it's a rainy day, and the platform is nearly empty.
Everything is the color of gray. From out of this grayness, two
figures approach us — an unremarkable middle-aged man and woman
— and after making sure that we are the right people, the
arrivals from the other side of the world, they embrace us; but I
don't feel much warmth in their half-embarrassed embrace. 'You
should kneel down and kiss the ground,' the man tells my parents.
'You're lucky to be here.' My parents' faces fill with a kind of
simple hope. Perhaps everything will be well after all.
Then we get into an enormous car — yes,
this is North America — and drive into the city that is to be our
home.
Words: 720
My First Day Abroad
It was my first day. I had come the night before, a
black and cold night before-as it was expected to be in the middle
of January, though I didn't know that at the time — and I could not
see anything clearly on the way from the airport, even though there
were lights everywhere. As we drove along, someone would single out
to me a famous building, an important street, a park, a bridge that
when built was thought to be a landmark. In a daydream I used to
have, all these places were points of happiness to me; all these
places were lifeboats to my small drowning soul. I would imagine
myself entering and leaving them, and just that — entering and
leaving over and over again — would see me through a bad feeling I
did not have a name for. I only knew it felt a little like sadness
but heavier than that. Now that I saw these places, they looked
ordinary, dirty, worn down by so many people entering and leaving
them in real life, and it occurred to me that I could not be the
only person in the world for whom they were an item of imagination.
It was not my first struggle with the disappointment of reality and
it would not be my last. The under clothes that I wore were all
new, bought for my journey, and as I sat in the car, moving this
way and that to get a good view of the sights before me, I was
reminded of how uncomfortable the new can make you feel.
I got into an elevator (电梯), something I
had never done before, and then I was in an apartment and seated at
a table, eating food just taken from a refrigerator. In the place I
had just come from, I always lived in a house, and my house did not
have a refrigerator in it. Everything I was experiencing — the ride
in the elevator, being in an apartment, eating day-old food that
had been stored in a refrigerator — was such a good idea that I
could imagine I would grow used to it and like it very much. But at
first, it was all so new that I had to smile with my mouth turned
down at the corners. I slept deeply that night, but it wasn't
because I was happy and comfortable — quite the opposite; it was
because I didn't want to take in anything else.
That morning, the morning of my first day,
the morning that followed my first night, was a sunny morning. It
was not the sort of bright yellow sun making everything lift up at
the edges, almost in fear, that I was used to, but a pale yellow
sun, as if the sun had grown weak from trying too hard to shine;
but still it was sunny. That was nice and made me miss my home
less. And so, seeing the sun, I got up and put on a dress, a gay
dress made out of bright-colored cloth — the same sort of dress
that I would wear if I were at home and starting out for a day in
the country. It was all wrong. The sun was shining but the air was
cold. It was the middle of January, after all. But I did not know
that the sun could shine and the air remain cold; no one had ever
told me. What a feeling that was! How can I explain? Something I
had always known — the way I knew my skin was the brown color of a
nut rubbed repeatedly with a soft cloth, or the way I knew my own
name — something I took completely for granted, 'the sun is
shining, the air is warm' — was not so. I was no longer in a
tropical area. This realization now entered my life like a flow of
water dividing previously dry and solid ground, creating two banks,
one of which was my past — so familiar and predictable that even my
unhappiness then made me happy now just to think of it; the other
my future, an empty gray page, a cloudy sea image on which rain was
falling and no boats were in sight. I was no longer in a tropical
area and I felt cold inside and out, the first time such a feeling
had come over me.
