Lesson 39 Text A My Fathers Son
It's hard being an astronauts son. I mean, everybody expects you to be special
or perfect, and I'm just an average elevenyear-old kid. I'm an average student,
and I'm average, too, when it comes to basketball, football, soccer, and
baseball.
I often wonder how my father ever had a son like me. I mean he's so special and
so good at everything he does. In high school he was captain of the football
team, class president, and editor of the school newspaper. Well, to tell you
the truth,I do have a little talent that nobody knows about. I write poems and
stories and keep them in a red notebook in my bottom desk drawer.
Nowadays I dream about being a famous writer, but I used to dream about doing
something spectacular to impress my father and make him proud of me-something
like rescuing a child from a burning building or chasing a robber away from an
old lady.
I was daydreaming in school one morning ( which I do often). I was daydreaming
about being some kind of hero, like discovering an instant cure for cancer or a
shot for mental illness, when I heard my English teacher announce a Fathers
Day essay contest for the whole school.
I hope we have a winner right here in my English class,
she said. The PTA has donated three cash prizes- one hundred dollars for first
prize, fifty dollars for second, and twenty-five dollars for third prize.
After school I walked home, thinking about the essay I would write. My father
is an astronaut, I would start out. No, I decided. I wouldnt do that. The
whole country and maybe even the whole world saw my father as an astronaut ,
but that wasn't the way I saw him.
When Igot home, I kissed my mom quickly. Then I went upstairs to my room and
sat down with a pen and a pad of paper. I started to think about what I would
write.
How did I see my father. Hmm.
I saw him sitting with me in the dark23 when I was a little kid and had a
nightmare.
I saw him teaching me how to use a bat and how to throw a baseball.
I remembered how he hugged me for hours when my dog Spotty was hit and killed
by a car.
And I remembered how he surprised me with a new puppy at my eighth birthday
party. When I started to cry, he told all the kids that I had a bad allergy.
Davids allergy bothers him a lot this time of year, Dad said.
And I remembered how he sat and tried to explain death to me when Grandpa Bob
died.
These were the things I was going to write about my dad. To me, he wasn't just
a world-famous astronaut. He was my dad.
I wrote about all these memories and put them in my essay. I handed it in the
next day and was surprised to find out that the winning essays would be read in
the auditorium on Thursday night. A11 the parents and students were invited.
My parents and I went to school Thursday night. One of our neighbours said, I
bet youll win the contest, David. I bet you wrote what it's like to be the son
of an astronaut, and you're the only one in town who could write about that.
My dad looked at me, and I shrugged. I hadnt sliown him the essay, and now I
almost hoped Lwouldnt win. I didn't want; to win just because my father was an
astronaut.
When third prize was announced and it wasn't me, I was relieved and
disappointed at the same time, Ellen Gordon won third prize, and she read her
essay. Ellen. is adopted, and she wrote a.bout her better than real father.
When she got to the end,I heard people in the audience sniffing and blowing
their noses. My mother sniffed, and my father cleared his throat.
The second-prize winner was announced next. It was me.
I went up to the stage, my knees shaking. I read my essay and wondered if my
voice was shaking, too. It was scary standing up in front of all those people.
I called my essay My Fathers Son. I watched my parents as I read. When I
finished reading, the audience applauded. I saw my father blowing his nose.
Tears were running down my mothers face. I went back
to my seat.
I see you have an allergy , too , Dad , I tried to joke.
Dad nodded, cleared his throat, and put his hand on my shoulder. Son, this is
the proudest moment of my life, he said.
It was the proudest moment of my life, too. Maybe I'll never be a great hero or
win a Nobel Prize, but just then, it was enough just to be my fathers son.
Text B The Wrong Sex or the Wrong Clothes
Sylvia and Larry both work for a big company in London. They work in
different departments. They are having lunch in the canteen. SYLVIA: Weve got
a new manager in our department.
LARRY: Oh You hoped to get that job, didn't you
SYLVIA: Yes, I did.
LARRY: I'm sorry. Thats too bad. Who is it Who got the job, I mean
SYLVIA: Someone called Drexler. Carl Drexler. Hes been with the company only
two years. I've been here longer. And I know more about the job , too
LARRY: Hmm. Why do you think they gave it to him and not to you
SYLVIA: Because I'm the wrong sex , of course !
LARRY: You mean you didn't get the job because you're a woman
SYLVIA: Yes, that was probably it! It isnt fair.
LARRY: What sort of clothes does he wear
SYLVTA: A dark suit. White shirt. A tie. Why
LARRY: Perhaps that had something to do with it.
SYLVIA: You mean you think I didn't get the job because I come to work in jeans
and a sweater
LARRY: It's possible, isnt it
SYLVIA: Do you really think I should wear different clothes
LARRY: Well. . . perhaps you should think about it.
SYLVTA: Why should I wear a skirt Or a dress
LARRY: I'm not saying you should. I'm saying you should think about it. Thats
all!
SYLVIA: Why should I do that I'm good at my job! Thats the only important
thing !
LARRY: Hmm. Perhaps it should be the only important thing. But it isnt. Not in
this company.
Questions on Text B 7. Read the following passage once. Underline the key words
while reading and retell the story to your partner. The Clever Servant
A long time ago, there was a rich old man who loved wine and
food above everything else. And he had a servant who loved drinking and eating
as much as his master did.
Each time the rich old man went out, he had to hide his wine and food away. Bot
each time the servant found them and he helped himself to the bottles of wine
and all the nice food. Of course, the rich old man knew who did it and was
displeased. But he could do neth:ag about it, because he had never caught his
servant drinking his wine or eating his food.
One day the old man was invited to dinner at the home of one of his friends. He
did not know what to de with the wine, meat and chicken he had just bought.
Certainly he could not leave them to the servant. Then he had an idea. He
called up the servant and said to him:
I'll be away for the whole evening, and I'll leave you to look after the house.
In the cupboard there are two bottles filled with poison. Be careful about it.
Youll be killed if you take even a drop of it. There is also some meat and
chicken in the cupboard. Take care of them. With these words the rich old man
left home.
As soon as the master turned his back, the servant opened the cupboard and
began to enjoy all the nice things in it. He emptied the two bottles and ate up
the meat, the chicken and everything else he found in the cupboard. He was
satisfied and soon fell asleep.At mid-night
the rich old man returned home. He looked into the cupboard and, to his great
surprise, all his wine and food were gone. He was mad with anger and called the
servant up.
Oh, Master, the servant began before the old man could open his mouth. While
you were away, the neighbours black cat stole into our kitchen and ate up
everything in the cupboard. I knew you would be very angry with me. I was so
afraid that I drank the two bottles of poison to kill myself. There were even
tears in the servants eyes. Oh, Master, he continued. Please don't get angry
with a dying man. I'll soon be dead.
The rich old man, of course, did not believe a word of his story. But again, he
muld do nothing about it.
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