Sample Compositions

1. Sample Compositions 司选海

2. The Secret Smoker cheating parents unintentionally sometimes can create an everlasting regret in a child’s mind. When I was in junior school, I had a real fascination with smoking. I wanted to try some cigarettes like the more “sophisticated” girls who would smoke in the bathrooms at lunch or recess. Since neither of my parents smoked, I was determined to keep it a secret. On Saturday afternoons I’d often go to the bowling alley with friends and stay there until 7:00 or 8:00 p.m. We’d bowl, play the pinball machines and talk to the guys from school. One afternoon, I noticed some cigarette butts in these tall metal ashtrays filled with sand. The cigarettes were stuck in the sand, and some of them looked pretty long, like someone had just taken a puff or two and tossed them away. When no one was looking, I put a few of the longer ones in my pocket and waited until dark. Then I stuck out behind the bowling alley, lit a cigarette, and puffed away.

3. It was a filthy habit, smoking cigarettes that had been in other people’s mouths, but I got a thrill from it. I started sneaking smokes every time we went to the bowling alley. After a few weeks of smoking at the bowling alley, one day I noticed a small sample pack of cigarettes in my Dad’s work car, probably left there by a business client. I swiped the pack and headed for the school grounds across from our house. I hid behind a baseball backstop and proceeded to smoke all five cigarettes in the pack, the first clean cigarettes I’d ever had. Then I went back to the house and stated watching TV. Later that day, Dad apparently noticed that the cigarette pack wasn’t in his car. He came in and sat down beside me. I must have smelled like stale tobacco because he immediately asked me, “Cellie, do you have something you wan to tell me?” I felt a tightening in my chest, and I managed to whisper, “Nope.” Then Dad said,

4. “Cellie, I know you took the cigarettes from the car and smoked them because you smell like tobacco. There’s no use denying it.” Well, I knew I was caught, but I just couldn’t admit it to him. Trying to keep me from crying, I blurted out, “I didn’t take any cigarettes from anywhere and I don’t know what you’re talking about. I don’t smoke!” Dad looked at me for a long time with his disappointed look, and then he finally said, “Well, when you are ready to tell the truth, I’m ready to listen.” I never did admit to my parents that I’d smoked those cigarettes, and they never asked me about them again. But to this day I still feel bad about telling my Dad such obvious lie and leaving him to think that his “angel” had stooped to stealing cigarettes and smoking.

5. My Statistics Lab Teacher Timidity is the major obstacle that people should get over when talking in public. Last week, our statistics lab teacher was sick, so we had a substitute instructor for two class periods. I believe our class was the first he had ever taught and I can never forget his nervousness. It was near two p.m.; everybody was waiting with curiosity in the statistics lab classroom. Whenever a person came in, everyone turned his head to observe, suspecting that that was the teacher. Since he was the assistant of our black statistics teacher, it was very possible that he was not a white and it greatly increased the curiosity about what the assistant would look like. At one minute to two, a chubby young man about 5’7’’ with short, curly brown hair and profound, big blue eyes, walked into the classroom, holding a few books and pieces of chalk. “He is quite punctual,” I thought. I glanced at his eyes, and I was puzzled by them. His eyes were charming and full of warmth, so that when they were looking at you, is seemed as if they were talking to you

6. and telling you of his strong love. As soon as he saw so many students sitting there and waiting for him, he hesitated for a while; then he bowed his head, walking quickly toward a table in the classroom. It was regrettable that I couldn’t see the beautiful, shining eyes anymore, but it was also fortunate because otherwise I was going to “view” him instead of listening to him. Putting his books on the table, he paused for a long time, his head still bowed. I saw his hand trembling and his face muscles stiffening. Some students started giggling and I saw him blush all of a sudden. Eventually, after a deep breath, he raised his head bravely and mumbled, “Hi. My name is …” I believe that nobody actually knew what his name was because a lot of students frowned and leaned forward to “catch” the words he had just spoken. Realizing the reaction and expression we had, he smiled as shyly as a child caught stealing candies hidden in a kitchen cabinet by his mother. I guessed that he was from Europe because of his accent. While he explained problems, his voice trembled, babbled and stuttered; he went up and down the platform, opened, closed, piled, and separated his books, turning his papers frequently. He changed his

7. position a great deal, unconsciously, sometimes with his right foot in front and sometimes his left. He kept his face toward the blackboard and it seemed as if he were talking to the blackboard. After solving all the homework problems, he signed and relaxed like a loosened balloon. Slowly piling his materials together, he walked out of the classroom as weakly as a beaten boxer. I picked up a chalk he was using and then I laughed. It was wet and sticky with sweat. I left the classroom and watched him disappear around the corner. “May God bless him and help him. Let him do better next time and come out of the inexplicable nervousness.”

8. "Keep Class 2 Under Your Thumb" "You'll have to keep Class 2 under your thumb," said the headmaster. To make this clear, he showed me his own thumb; a huge thing, like a pocket cudgel. I felt very pale. I had reason enough to distrust my thumb. Class 2. They were top year boys. Their own teacher had been sick for a long time; a succession of startled substitutes had stood before them, ducked, winced and fled. I was the seventh that term. No one quite knew where the class had got in any subject. It was plain the headmaster thought they had got nowhere. But I was to take them for nearly everything; and first, that awful afternoon, for history.

9. I trembled down to Room H. In the hall I was nearly knocked over by a boy illegally running. I should have told him off; instead, I apologized. It was all wrong; my mood was all placatory; I was, inwardly, all white flag. The room was easily traced by the noise that was coming from it. It didn't sound a studious noise. I crept through the door. Enormous boys were everywhere, doing indefensible things. I can't recall much in particular what they were doing; indeed, that was the worst of it — that these improprieties couldn't be nailed down.

10. I managed to make out that mixed up with these giants was a certain amount of furniture. This consisted, I found, of individual desks; doll's house things that rested on mountainous knees and swayed from side to side. Too negligently or maliciously treated, one would, from time to time, crash to the floor. There were certainly fights going on; and I believe one desk was chasing another. The air was full of pieces of chalk, a strange rain of it. Feeling invisible, I walked towards the teacher's desk. Not an eye was turned in my direction. I just stood there and looked at them and an awful pointless indignation mounted in me. Was I not a teacher? Was I really so puny, so ineffective? "Now, shut up," I shouted. There was a fatal note of pleading in my voice. They took no notice, so I shouted again.

11. And then I said, "If you don't shut up, I'll..." Now they heard me and an awful silence came, not an obedient silence but a sceptical one. My voice trailed away. If they didn't shut up, I would — what? I was toying inwardly with ideas of thunderbolts, earthquakes, mass executions. But in cold blood I could think of no practical substitute for these dramatic punishments. A boy leaned back in his desk, indolently far back, and said, "Are you going to try to teach us?" He looked round and laughed. There was a murmur from the back of the room and another laugh. I was shocked to the core. Shocked, stung and frightened. "Yes, I am," I shouted. "And you — you had better shut up."

12. They all laughed. Then they turned to one another and discussed the matter. A fight began at the back. But what hurt me most was that in the middle of the room sat a very studious-looking boy reading a book. He looked up, raised a wry eyebrow, looked at me, raised his eyebrow higher, and then shrugged himself back into his book. I shouted for a while, but it was beyond me. I hadn't the manner. I was a plain impostor. My blushing and bawling were a joy to them. There was, for a time, pandemonium, like a big scene in an opera being played backwards on a gramophone.

13. It struck me that I had in my briefcase a book on Chaucer. It contained a large number of documents of the period. Accounts of street brawls. It seemed appropriate. It was, alas, very big and looked very academic. "Cor, the Bible," said a voice. "Read any good book lately?" said another. "You hit me with that and I'll tell my dad." "He can read!" And in falsetto, "Tell us a fairy story!" From Roaring Boys by Edward Blishen

14. College Teachers --classification Before I came to college, I was told not to expect my professors to care much about me or my work; indeed, I was told that I would be lucky if any of them even knew my name! But when I came to the university, I soon learned that these generations were too broad. Not all teachers are the same. in fact, I have found that most of the professors here at State fall into three categories: the positive teachers, the neutral teachers, and the negative teachers. The positive teachers are by far the most agreeable teachers. a positive teacher is one who seems interested in his subject and his students. the first thing a positive teacher does is try to learn all of the students’ names. This kind of teacher allows for questions and discussions in class and does not seem to mind if a student

15. disagrees with him. A positive teacher shows his interest out of class as well. Not only is he available for conferences, but he encourages students to see him if they need help. The students tend to feel comfortable in the presence of this teacher. A good example of a positive teacher is my French teacher, Monsieur Poirrot. He always allows time during the class hour for some free discussion. Once, when some of the students in our class were having trouble with the pronunciation of the rolled “r” in French, he took several hours of his own time to work with us in very small groups in his office until we had mastered the sound. Unfortunately, teachers like Monsieur Poirrot are relatively small in number. Unlike the positive teachers, the neutral teachers are not very agreeable. In general, the neutral teachers just do not seem interested in either the subject or the students. These teachers usually do not learn all of the students’ names, though they may learn a few. Their classes tend to be more boring than the positive teachers’ classes because they allow less time for

16. discussion. However, like the positive teacher, the neutral teacher allows for questions and some discussion, but he just does not seem to care if the students are interested enough to want to discuss the subject or not. Although the neutral teacher is available for conferences, he does not encourage students to come to see him for help; as a result, most students feel sightly uncomfortable in his presence, especially during a conference. Professor Hilton, my economics professor, is typical of the neutral teacher. She comes into class, opens her notebook lectures, allows questions and some discussion, and then leaves class. When I had a problem understanding one of the concepts we had discussed in class one day, I went to her office for a conference. She was polite enough but did not make any special effort to see that I understood the concept during the conference. She more or less repeated what she had said in class. Very few students go to see her for a conference because they think she is simply not interested. From what I have gathered in my conversations with other students, the neutral teachers make up the largest category.

17. Of the three types of teachers, the negative teachers are the least agreeable. These are the kind that every student dreads. Not only do they not learn the students’ names, but they seem almost hostile both in class and out of class. In class, the negative teachers, like the neutral teachers, primarily lecture; they may want the students to learn, but unlike the neutral and positive teachers, the negative teachers allow virtually no questions and no discussion. The negative teachers also seem inimical to the idea of having conferences and are almost never in their offices. Students avoid seeing them for conferences if at all possible. An excellent example of a negative teacher is Dr. Wollen, my physics professor. His classes are twice as boring as any class of a neutral teacher, and his is often intimidating in class. One day, for example, when one student asked him to repeat his explanation of the theory of relativity, he became quite angry and refused to repeat what he had just lectured on. The negative teacher is too often inflexible; in fact, he seems more like a machine than a human being. Fortunately, this group is in the minority.

18. The type of teacher students get can directly affect directly how much they learn. Obviously, students learn more from a positive teacher; unfortunately, as we have seen, this type makes up the minority. Since the mission of the university is to educate, administrators should try to get the neutral and negative teachers to improve their teaching methods and attitudes; otherwise the administrators should consider dismissing at least the negative teachers and make every effort to hire those teachers who show promise of being positive ones.

19. Mt St. Helens Mt. St. Helens is a volcano in the state of Washington in the western United States. In May 1980, it erupted with the force of a nuclear bomb. According to scientists, there had been no volcanic eruption to equal this one in the last 4,000 years. When Mt. St. Helens exploded, it released energy that was greater than the bomb that destroyed Hiroshima, Japan. The force was strong enough to send 100 million tons of dust into the atmosphere. A force that strong had tremendous effects on the area around the volcano. The visible effects were awesome. Once there had been green meadows and thick forests; after the eruption, there was black volcanic rock and ash. From the air, thousands of acres of trees looked like scattered matchsticks. Where there had once been clear streams and lakes, there were only bubbling pools of mud. Once the mountain had stood tall; afterwards most of its top and all of its north side were missing. The force of the eruption reduced the mountain from the fifth tallest in the state to the thirtieth tallest. The economic effects on the area were staggering. The U.S. Forest Service estimated that $ 200 million worth of timber was destroyed. This was

20. enough timber to build 200,000 homes. Businesses and homes simply disappeared under tons of rock, ash, and mud. The port of Portland, sixty miles to the south, was clogged with mud and ash. Cargo ships from all over the world suddenly sat helpless. Economists estimated the commercial and personal damages in the billions of dollars. Finally, the effects on human life were tragic. Thirty four bodies wre recovered in the weeks following the eruption; twenty seven more people simply disappeared. Some of the sixty one were photographers and scientists who were there to record the stirring of the mountain. They thought that there would be a warning before the final eruption; there was none. Other victims were campers and workers who were deceived by the apparent calm of the mountain that bright, sunny spring morning. One—a crusty, old man who owned a little resort five miles from the mountain– had refused leave. He said that he was part of the mountain and the mountain was part of him. His words turned out to be true; his body was never found.

21. All in all, it is impossible to calculate the total effects of the eruption. It will take thousands of years for the geographical damage to be erased. The economy of the area will perhaps never recover. Businesses have closed, never to reopen; the lakes and rivers, which had attracted visitors, are gone forever; the logging industry has no trees to cut. Human life, of course, can never be replaced.