關於初一英語短文閱讀

　　根據教學大綱的規定和新課標的要求,英語是必須掌握的課程,初中年級英語課程要為學生的充分發展創造條件,為終身學習打下基礎。分享關於初一英語短文，希望大家喜歡!

　　關於初一英語短文：That's what friends do

　　Jack tossed the papers on my desk -- his eyebrows knit into a straight line as he glared at me.

　　"What's wrong?" I asked.

　　He jabbed a finger at the proposal. "Next time you want to change anything, ask me first," he said, turning on his heels and leaving me stewing in anger.

　　How dare he treat me like that, I thought. I had changed one long sentence, and corrected grammar, something I thought I was paid to do.

　　It's not that I hadn't been warned. Other women who had worked my job before me called Jack names I couldn't repeat. One coworker took me aside the first day. "He's personally responsible for two different secretaries leaving the firm," she whispered.

　　As the weeks went by, I grew to despise Jack. His actions made me question much that I believed in, such as turning the other cheek and loving your enemies. Jack quickly slapped a verbal insult on any cheek turned his way. I prayed about the situation, but to be honest, I wanted to put Jack in his place, not love him.

　　One day another of his episodes left me in tears. I stormed into his office, prepared to lose my job if needed, but not before I let the man know how I felt. I opened the door and Jack glanced up. "What?" he asked abruptly.

　　Suddenly I knew what I had to do. After all, he deserved it.

　　I sat across from him and said calmly, "Jack, the way you've been treating me is wrong. I've never had anyone speak to me that way. As a professional, it's wrong, and I can't allow it to continue."

　　Jack snickered nervously and leaned back in his chair. I closed my eyes briefly. God help me, I prayed.

　　"I want to make you a promise. I will be a friend," I said. "I will treat you as you deserve to be treated, with respect and kindness. You deserve that. Everybody does." I slipped out of the chair and closed the door behind me.

　　Jack avoided me the rest of the week. Proposals, specs, and letters appeared on my desk while I was at lunch, and my corrected versions were not seen again. I brought cookies to the office one day and left a batch on his desk. Another day I left a note. "Hope your day is going great," it read.

　　Over the next few weeks, Jack reappeared. He was reserved, but there were no other episodes. Coworkers cornered me in the break room. "Guess you got to Jack," they said. "You must have told him off good."

　　I shook my head. "Jack and I are becoming friends," I said in faith. I refused to talk about him. Every time I saw Jack in the hall, I smiled at him. After all, that's what friends do.

　　One year after our "talk," I discovered I had breast cancer. I was thirty-two, the mother of three beautiful young children, and scared. The cancer had metastasized to my lymph nodes and the statistics were not great for long-term survival. After my surgery, friends and loved ones visited and tried to find the right words. No one knew what to say, and many said the wrong things. Others wept, and I tried to encourage them. I clung to hope myself.

　　One day, Jack stood awkwardly in the doorway of my small, darkened hospital room. I waved him in with a smile. He walked over to my bed and without a word placed a bundle beside me. Inside the package lay several bulbs.

　　"Tulips," he said.

　　I grinned, not understanding.

　　He shuffled his feet, then cleared his throat. "If you plant them when you get home, they'll come up next spring. I just wanted you to know that I think you'll be there to see them when they come up."

　　Tears clouded my eyes and I reached out my hand. "Thank you," I whispered.

　　Jack grasped my hand and gruffly replied, "You're welcome. You can't see it now, but next spring you'll see the colors I picked out for you. I think you'll like them." He turned and left without another word.

　　For ten years, I have watched those red-and-white striped tulips push their way through the soil every spring.

　　In a moment when I prayed for just the right word, a man with very few words said all the right things.

　　After all, that's what friends do.

　　關於初一英語短文：A special letter

　　Dear World:

　　My son starts school today.

　　It's going to be strange and new to him for a while, and I wish you would sort of treat him gently.

　　You see, up to now, he's been king of the roost.

　　He's been boss of the backyard.

　　I have always been around to repair his wounds, and to soothe his feelings.

　　But now--things are going to be different.

　　This morning, he's going to walk down the front steps, wave his hand and start on his great adventure that will probably include wars and tragedy and sorrow.

　　To live his life in the world he has to live in will require faith and love and courage.

　　So, World, I wish you would sort of take him by his young hand and teach him the things he will have to know.

　　Teach him - but gently, if you can.

　　Teach him that for every scoundrel there is a hero; that for every crooked politician there is a dedicated leader; that for every enemy there is a friend.

　　Teach him the wonders of books.

　　Give him quiet time to ponder the eternal mystery of birds in the sky, bees in the sun, and flowers on the green hill.

　　Teach him it is far more honorable to fail than to cheat.

　　Teach him to have faith in his own ideas, even if everyone tells him they are wrong.

　　Teach him to sell his brawn and brains to the highest bidder, but never to put a price on his heart and soul.

　　Teach him to close his ears to a howling mob...and to stand and fight if he thinks he's right.

　　Teach him gently, World, but don't coddle him, because only the test of fire makes fine steel.

　　This is a big order, World, but see what you can do.

　　He's such a nice little fellow.

　　關於初一英語短文：A father and a son

　　Passing through the Atlanta airport one morning, I caught one of those trains that take travelers from the main terminal to their boarding gates. Free, sterile and impersonal, the trains run back and forth all day long. Not many people consider them fun, but on this Saturday I heard laughter.

　　At the front of the first car - looking out the window at the track that lay ahead - were a man and his son.

　　We had just stopped to let off passengers, and the doors wee closing again. "Here we go! Hold on to me tight!" the father said. The boy, about five years old, made sounds of sheer delight.

　　I know we're supposed to avoid making racial distinctions these days, so I hope no one will mind if I mention that most people on the train were white, dressed for business trips or vacations - and that the father and son were black, dressed in clothes that were just about as inexpensive as you can buy.

　　"Look out there!" the father said to his son. "See that pilot? I bet he's walking to his plane." The son craned his neck to look.

　　As I got off, I remembered some thing I'd wanted to buy in the terminal. I was early for my flight, so I decided to go back.

　　I did – and just as I was about to reboard the train for my gate, I saw that the man and his son had returned too. I realized then that they hadn't been heading for a flight, but had just been riding the shuttle.

　　"I want to ride some more!"

　　"More?" the father said, mock-exasperated but clearly pleased. "You're not tired?"

　　"This is fun!" his son said.

　　"All right," the father replied, and when a door opened we all got on.

　　There are parents who can afford to send their children to Europe or Disneyland, and the children turn out rotten. There are parents who live in million-dollar houses and give their children cars and swimming pools, yet something goes wrong. Rich and poor, black and white, so much goes wrong so often.

　　"Where are all these people going, Daddy?" the son asked.

　　"All over the world," came the reply. The other people in the air port wee leaving for distant destinations or arriving at the ends of their journeys. The father and son, though, were just riding this shuttle together, making it exciting, sharing each other's company.

　　So many troubles in this country - crime, the murderous soullessness that seems to be taking over the lives of many young people, the lowering of educational standards, the increase in vile obscenities in public, the disappearance of simple civility. So many questions about what to do. Here was a father who cared about spending the day with his son and who had come up with this plan on a Saturday morning.

　　The answer is so simple: parents who care enough to spend time, and to pay attention and to try their best. It doesn't cost a cent, yet it is the most valuable thing in the world.

　　The train picked up speed, and the father pointed something out, and the boy laughed again.