作文一:《不寻常的礼物》500字
不寻常的礼物
我收到过的礼物有很多:水晶球、钢笔、衣服、娃娃??它们都被我遗弃在某个角落,但是爸爸送给我的礼物我却始终无法忘怀!
月假我到爸爸妈妈那玩,但是快乐的时间总是这么短暂,很快到了回温州的前一天夜晚。大忙人—爸爸总算有一天能在十二点前把工作办完,回到家里,我和弟弟肚子饿了,可冰箱里却没有东西可吃,于是我们见爸爸回来立刻迎上去说:“爸爸,妈妈去医院了,我肚子饿!”爸爸听了立即开着车出去买了点鱼翅回来,准备拌海带吃。一回来,爸爸就进厨房乒乒乓乓地弄起来。不一会儿,爸爸端着香喷喷的鱼翅让我们尝尝。无疑,爸爸亲手做的鱼翅肯定好吃,让我和弟弟赞不绝口,一声连着一声“真好吃。”
吃完了美味的鱼翅,我们进入了梦乡。不知怎的,我突然摸到一双粗糙的大手正搂着我和弟弟。我打开台灯一看,原来是爸爸的手,上面起了好多被油溅到的小水泡,而且许多一条又一条的因为赚钱养家而疲惫的皱纹爬上了爸爸那充满爱的双手。那一刻,不听话的眼泪已顺着脸颊一滴一滴地落在了爸爸的手上??
爸爸为了赚钱养一家五口人,都不能好好地睡一觉,我也没有帮助过爸爸分忧,还责怪爸爸不爱我们,今晚爸爸所做的一切,难道还不足以表达他对我们的爱吗?今晚爸爸所做的一切是我人生中收到的最不寻常、最珍贵的礼物!
温州育英国际实验学校五年级:杨伊凡
作文二:《不寻常的礼物》1900字
不寻常的礼物
相信相信每个人都会有一件珍藏的礼物,在这件礼物的背后一定有一个让人终身不忘的故事。我也有一件礼物,是一个陀螺,但与众不同的是,这件礼物的背后却是后悔与让终生铭记的信念,所以它非常珍贵。
在我二年级的时候,看见班上的同学有我梦寐以求的生日礼物:psp、陀螺、赛车等,令我十分羡慕不已。但我每次过生日时,向家人提出希望得到上述的礼物时,他们总会对我说:“不行,这些东西会影响你的学习的。”就这样,我渐渐地打消了得到生日礼物的念头,并固执地认为:他们除了买些课外书籍,从未给我对我玩的礼物。
记得有一天,老师叫我们交120元伙食费,回到家后,我对妈妈说:“妈妈,明天我要交125元伙食费。”我的心里乱砰砰地跳。妈妈递给我125元,又认真地数了一遍放在我的手上,并叮嘱我别把钱弄丢了。我何时学会撒谎了,居然还能流利地说出口,唉,不就是5块钱吗,有什么大不了的,看着这125元,我的思想开始了激烈的斗争,但我一想到可以买到一个我深爱的陀螺,就把钱藏进了口袋。
第二天,口袋中的5元如千斤重的铁锤,压得我连气都喘不过来。下午放学,我买了陀螺和一包糖,糖含在嘴里,我却感觉不到一丝甜味。当我会到家时,妈妈很严肃地对我说:“你先坐下,我要跟你谈一个问题。你爸爸今天打电话来说要给你120元交伙食费,你为什么昨天却向我要125元伙食费,”妈妈盯着我的眼睛语气严厉地问道,我心想:反正把这件事压在心里也难受,不如把事情说出来,于是我就把这件事的来龙去脉全都讲得清清楚楚。妈妈听完后语重心长地说:“孩子,这不是5块钱的小事,做人最重要的就是诚信,信义无价,这是做人的原则啊~你以后不能再犯这样的错误,你现在如果不走好人生的每一步的话,将来就会走上歪路,会后悔莫及的。陀螺就是最好的见证。
妈妈的一些话,使我从混沌的认识得到一次心灵的洗礼,从此以后,我处处诚信为本,在学校捡到100元,想方设法的找到丢钱的同学还给他……这些事例数不胜数,我深知这与妈妈对我的教诲密不可分,她用爱给我了一个特殊的而弥足珍贵的礼物——诚信,宛如人生道路上的一盏明灯,我将让这盏明灯照亮今后人生道路上的每一个角落。
广东汕尾海丰县...六年级:神秘人
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根据我校教师队伍的实际情况,在全面推进教师业务素质提升到基础上,本学期以培养校级骨干教师、区市骨干教师、学科带头人的不同层次师资人才为目标,立足校本培训重点做了如下工作:
1(强化管理,促进教师更新教育理念。为推进教师自我学习,学校鼓励教师网上学习,根据学校要求进行理论学习摘抄和教育博客建设。教师自学理论学习的内容要贴近学校教育和教师教学的实际,继续实行月检查考核管理制度。
2(组织落实,安排教师参与各级培训。为提高学科教师的教学水平,认真落实区教培中心组织的各级各类的学科培训,组织教师认真参与。本学期组织安排学科教师参加润州区培训中心组织的第十二至十五期“名师讲堂”语
人次;组织教师参加省“蓝天杯”语文、数学课文、数学、英语培训活动近30
堂教学和省小学体育教师基本功竞赛观摩5人次;组织参加区语数英及技能学科课堂教学研讨、培训近50人次。
3. 全员培训,提升所有教师业务水平。为加快课堂与学科教学整合的步伐促进教师电子备课和多媒体应用能力,会使用现有的现代化教育手段进行课堂教学:(1)教导处9月份组织开展了全校性的现代信息技术培训:电子白板的使用培训;(2)为适应教学条件变化,11月组织了全体教师的白板书写竞赛;(3)为更新理念,12月组织全体教师参加了 “专业技术人员低碳经济2012年”课程网络培训学习,在编在校教师均完成12学时课件培训任务,计完成公需科目继续教育培训24学时。
4(搭建平台,促进青年教师专业成长。为加快培养校级骨干教师、区市骨干教师、学科带头人的不同层次骨干教师队伍,学校在全员培训的基础努力搭建平台,促进青年教师的专业成长。
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作文三:《不寻常的礼物》500字
不寻常的礼物
就在这个周末,我收到了一个看不见摸不着的特殊礼物,那就是快乐。快乐无处不在,快乐很简单。而我的快乐是从失败中得来的。
周六,我和爸爸一起去了万龙八亿滑雪场滑雪。我怀着高兴的心情穿上了滑雪套装去滑雪。刚一进学场就看见已经有很多人在滑雪了。白白的雪被人们鲜艳的衣服染成了五彩缤纷的颜色。
我还不会滑雪,所以妈妈给我请了一个教练,听说只要学会就玩转自如了。我非常高兴,那样就不会摔倒了。教练先教我如何控制滑雪板,让它如何停住,我记住了要领,不一会儿就会了。教练带着我从传送电梯来到了雪坡上,从下面看雪坡不大,可到了上面雪坡好像变陡了,我还看见有些人往下滑的时候摔得"很惨",我心里没底了,不禁有一些害怕。
等我站好了,教练就让我慢慢向下滑,我慢慢的慢慢的挪动滑板,一点一点地小心翼翼的向下滑。哈哈,我还行,刚才记住了些要领,居然挺稳。我正得意,脚下一滑腿一软"扑通"我摔倒了,不过不疼,我倒觉得挺好玩。要不是这次摔倒我还不知道躺在雪地有多舒服呢!尽管教练手把手的教我,但我还是一次又一次的摔倒,但我感到一次次的快乐。不一会儿,我滑的越来越快了,教练也不用管我了,我心里非常有成就感。
这次滑雪我收获了许多快乐,而且我还明白了摔倒了再爬起来没什么大不了,"失败乃成功之母"嘛。我这次收到的礼物非常不同吧!
作文四:《不寻常的礼物》1500字
1996年,春天来到了俄亥俄州克利夫兰市,但没有给盖茨大街带来什么变化。生活在盖茨大街附近各条漂亮街道上的人们都在修整花园、油漆房子,并准备好割草机到夏天投入使用。可是盖茨大街依然如昔,显得又肮脏又丑陋。
盖茨大街是一条短街,但看上去好象很长,因为它丑陋得无以复加。住在这条街上的大多数人家穷得叮当响。他们也从来不指望去多赚点儿钱。
男人们时而有活干,时而失业。他们的房子已经许多年没上过油漆了,连自来水也没有。盖茨大街上的人家只得到街角的消防龙头下提水。
这条街道本身也很丑陋,没有人行道,没有街灯。盖茨大街的一头有铁轨通过,这更增添了这条街的喧闹和肮脏。
那年春天,盖茨大街附近的那所学校大部分的小女孩都穿着漂亮的新衣服。但是,家住盖茨大街的那个小女孩仍然穿着她已经穿了整个冬天的那件脏衣服。这很可能是她惟一的一件衣服。
她的老师为此而叹气。这小女孩多可爱呀!她在学校里读书非常用功,待人接物永远是那么礼貌而友好。但她的脸总是脏兮兮的,头发也凌乱不堪。
有一天,老师对她说:“明天早上你来上学之前洗洗脸好吗?就当我求你。”老师看得出,这女孩洗去污垢后一定很漂亮。
第二天早上,小女孩洗了她漂亮的小脸。她的头发也梳理得干净而整洁。当天下午小女孩放学回家前,老师说:“亲爱的,请让你妈妈帮你把衣服洗一洗。”
但是小女孩仍然穿着那件脏衣服。“她妈妈可能不关心她。”老师心里想。于是她买了一件鲜亮的蓝色连衣裙送给小女孩。小女孩接过礼物,飞快地跑回家。
第二天早上,她就穿着这件崭新的蓝色连衣裙来上学了。她显得干净又整洁。她告诉老师:“我妈妈今天早上看到我穿着这件新裙时,非常吃惊。我爸爸不在家,他上班去了。但今天晚饭时他会看到我的。”
她爸爸看到她穿着那件新衣服时,惊奇地发现,原来自己的女儿这么漂亮。当全家人坐下来吃晚饭时,他看到餐桌上铺上了桌布,更是惊讶不已。以前他们家从来没用过什么桌布。“这布干什么用?”他问。
“我们家要比以前更整洁。”他妻子说。“我们的女儿这么干净,而我们的家却又脏又乱可不好。”
晚饭后,小女孩的妈妈开始擦洗地板。小女孩的爸爸看了一会儿,什么也没说。之后他走出家门,来到后院,着手修栅栏。第二天傍晚,在家人的帮助下,他开始挖地建花园。
接下来的一个星期,隔壁家的男人看到了小女孩家所做的一切。随后,他开始油漆自己的房子,这是十年来的第一次。
几天后,盖茨大街附近教堂的一位年轻牧师路过这两户人家的房子,看到男人们在干活。他发现盖茨大街的路面没有铺,整条街没有街灯。他知道住在这条街上的人家都没有自来水。“像这样不辞辛劳地想拥有干净宅子和整洁庭院的人们应该得到帮助。”牧师自言自语地说。
他去找了市政府的头头脑脑。他还跟一些商界要人和教堂、学校的负责人见了面。他请求他们帮助生活在盖茨大街的那些家庭。
几个月之后,盖茨大街焕然一新。如今,这条街道铺上了路面,街角处安上了路灯,家家户户用上了自来水。就在小女孩拥有她那件崭新的蓝色连衣裙之后6个月,盖茨大街变成了一条整洁的街道,住在那儿的家家户户变得体面而友善。
知道这些变化的人们称之为“盖茨大街大清理”。那位年轻的牧师每到一处,都要跟人讲起这个奇迹。
其他城市听说了这个“大清理”的故事,也开始组织他们自己的“大清理”活动。自1997年以来,有成千上万个美国城镇发起了油漆和修理住宅行动。对那些住在这些地方的人家来说,生活因此变得更加美好了。
有谁知道,当老师送给小女生一件崭新的蓝色连衣裙时会发生奇迹呢?
选自《英语广场》2007年第12期
作文五:《不寻常的结婚礼物》900字
1915年10月25日,孙中山与宋庆龄在日本东京举行婚礼。在婚礼上,孙中山送给新娘的礼物不是钻戒,不是耳环,也不是什么其他的世俗首饰珠宝,它是一把手枪。孙中山说:“这枪配了二十颗子弹,十九颗给敌人准备,最后一颗,是危急时留给自己的。”
当时,孙中山的处境已经十分危险。
1981年宋庆龄去世后,在廖承志的领导下筹备纪念宋庆龄的展览。秘书杜述周奉命到上海去接收一部分重要文物。在将这把枪带回北京时,根据当时的安全规定,他将二十发子弹交给上海市公安局。从此枪和子弹才分开。
展览布置好,廖承志来审查。见到这把手枪,他关切地问:“这枪的子弹呢?”由此可见,宋庆龄的这把枪在当时的革命者中十分著名,而且枪和子弹从来不分开。革命者们对其是十分熟悉的。
在过去的记载中,这把枪被说成是勃朗宁手枪。我们就一直延续这个说法。上世纪九十年代末,一位到宋庆龄故居参观的外宾,认真地观察了这把枪。然后,他郑重地向我们提出,这枪不是勃朗宁而是德国毛瑟。我们这才注意到,枪身上标的的确是“毛瑟”(MAUSER)。
几十年来,这把枪引起了人们的极大兴趣。因为它不仅是孙中山与宋庆龄爱情的见证,也体现了宋庆龄为革命不畏艰险的精神。
2003年,我们到新加坡做巡回展览。一天,我在“财富之泉”举办讲座。当讲到这把枪时,一位听众突然站起来,直截了当地对我说:“你说得不对。1915年不可能有这样小巧的毛瑟枪。”我说:“但枪上的确刻着‘毛瑟’字样。”他说:“那就是你们搞错了,这不是宋庆龄的那把枪。”我说:“这枪确实是宋庆龄的。我不是枪械专家。我很感谢您关注这件事。希望您能帮我们证实。”那位先生说:“我会证实的。我会请枪械专家来鉴定,证明你们是错的。”
第二天我又在那里举办讲座。快要结束的时候。听众中站起一个人。正是昨天的那位先生。他当着所有的人向我赔礼道歉。原来,当天晚上他请了一位枪械专家来特意品鉴此枪,专家的证实结果是——这把枪确实是“毛瑟”,而且正是1914年最新出品的。
孙中山将一把毛瑟手枪作为送给新娘的礼物并不寻常,宋庆龄深味其意,并将其保存终生。一切一切,都体现出两位革命家不流凡俗,献身理想的个性品格。
摘自《宋庆龄往事》
作文六:《不寻常的礼物作文600字》600字
不寻常的礼物作文600字
礼物寄托了家人朋友的祝福,可以带给我们快乐。而有一件礼物却不同于其他的,这是一件不寻常的礼物。
我是家里的独生子,大家都很宠爱我。每次生日的时候,叔叔阿姨们都会送给我好多礼物。是我最盼望和高兴的一天。可有一次我却过得不怎么开心。
那天是我的生日,叔叔阿姨们都来了,叔叔送给我一个大的水果蛋糕,老姨送给我一件漂亮的裙子,我穿上它就像一位骄傲的公主。这是我把目光投向了一向出手阔绰的大姨,想看看她给我什么高贵的礼物。但大姨却送给我了一本用牛皮纸包着的书,我一看失望极了,心凉了半截。心想,“真小气,一本破书能干什么呀,蛋糕和裙子多好。”我闷闷不乐,连拆都没拆,随手把它扔在了一个角落。
直到一天中午,自己在家里没有什么事干,看到了这本书,就翻起来看。不知不觉地好像书中的人物把我“拉”了进去,我津津有味地读起来,达到了忘我的境界,忘掉了身边的一切事物,甚至忘记了吃饭。因为对一个又一个故事的渴求,使我继续读了下去。不觉中鼻子一酸,泪水浸湿了我的眼眶,落下了两三颗冰凉的雨滴——泪珠。我终于明白了大姨的用意,她送我这本神奇的书是为了让我知道更多的知识,更多的人生道理,充实自己,让我打开了知识的大门,走进书的王国。这时我才知道错怪大姨了,这才是她的良好用心。这件礼物比其它任何礼物都贵重,它是一件无价之宝。我一定不辜负大姨的
心愿。
从此我与书就结下了不解之缘,这件不寻常的礼物带给我快
乐,让我受益匪浅
作文七:《一件不寻常的礼物作文》1600字
一件不寻常的礼物礼物寄托了家人朋友的祝福,可以带给我们快乐。而有一件礼物却不同于其他的,这是一件不寻常的礼物。我是家里的独生子,大家都很宠爱我。每次生日的时候,叔叔阿姨们都会送给我好多礼物。是我最盼望和高兴的一天。可有一次我却过得不怎么开心。那天是我的生日,叔叔阿姨们都来了,叔叔送给我一个大的水果蛋糕,老姨送给我一件漂亮的裙子,我穿上它就像一位骄傲的公主。这是我把目光投向了一向出手阔绰的大姨,想看看她给我什么高贵的礼物。但大姨却送给我了一本用牛皮纸包着的书,我一看失望极了,心凉了半截。心想:“真小气,一本破书能干什么呀,蛋糕和裙子多好。”我闷闷不乐,连拆都没拆,随手把它扔在了一个角落。直到一天中午,自己在家里没有什么事干,看到了这本书,就翻起来看。不知不觉地好像书中的人物把我“拉”了进去,我津津有味地读起来,达到了忘我的境界,忘掉了身边的一切事物,甚至忘记了吃饭。因为对一个又一个故事的渴求,使我继续读了下去。不觉中鼻子一酸,泪水浸湿了我的眼眶,落下了两三颗冰凉的雨滴——泪珠。我终于明白了大姨的用意,她送我这本神奇的书是为了让我知道更多的知识,更多的人生道理,充实自己,让我打开了知识的大门,走进书的王国。这时我才知道错怪大姨了,这才是她的良好用心。这件礼物比其它任何礼物都贵重,它是一件无价之宝。我一定不辜负大姨的心愿。从此我与书就结下了不解之缘,这件不寻常的礼物带给我快乐,让我受益匪浅。
【每日写作指导:作文攻略之如何写好环境描写……】
作文中的环境描写指的是对人物所处的具体社会环境和自然环境的描摹。人总是生活在一定的环境当中,故人的个性的形成与其所处的环境有密切的关系,写好环境描写对表现人物性格及渲染气氛,突出文章主旨帮助很大。而在初中阶段,更多的用到自然环境描写,社会环境较少涉及。本文将针对记叙文写作中的自然环境描写做一说明,希望对大家有所帮助。(next88)因所有环境均服务文章主题,故写环境时,需注意环境描写并非文章主体。也即一篇作文中描写自然环境的文字不一定要多,但要“得体”。所谓“得体”即是说文中描写的自然环境须与其记叙的事件有一定的内在联系,或对其要表达的情感,主旨或其中的人物形象能起到烘托,突出的作用。针对如何做到“得体”,下面给出两个思路,仅供参考。
1、局部映衬法
局部映衬是指在作文中描写自然环境时,可在任何部分用自然环境映衬人物的精神品质或文章的主旨、情感,从而让文章品格得到提升。使用局部映衬法,景物描写的文字并不求多,而求“精”而“得体”。某个地方可能只有一句景物描写,但就因这一句话,提升了这篇作文的整体质量。如一同学暑假回农村老家探亲,目睹了兄妹换亲的封建陋俗,写了一篇《探亲》的作文,文章结尾写到“第二天清早,我上路回城了。走时山村好静,走过童年的小树,我不禁回首:山村雾茫茫,人们还没有从梦中醒来呢。”作者描写山村茫茫的雾气,并以此暗示山村人们还未从梦中醒来,亦即还未丢掉封建陋俗,文章的主旨因此得到升华。
使用“局部映衬法”,需要注意的是须根据自己描写自然环境想要达到的目的来决定描写何种景物,并去寻找景物与达到的目的之间的关系。如果要表现一个人物的某种品格,可用和煦的春风映衬“温暖”“温馨”,用各种表现纯净美好的景物映衬人物的高尚品质……这一笔能使文章不仅停留在记叙层面,而有了一个精神的升华;如果要表现亲情主题,可用明媚的阳光象征与突出亲情所带来的温暖与温馨;如果要突出怀念主题,可适当描述秋景;如果要渲染紧张气氛,可以电闪雷鸣;如果要表现伤感,可以阴雨连绵……这个对应之处同学们可在平时进行优秀作文阅读的时候加以积累。
2、整体烘托法
所谓“整体烘托法”指的是作文中的自然环境描写从整体上定下了全文的情感基调,或定下了故事的发生氛围,或作为一个重要要素参与了整个故事的发展。最常见的有两种情况:
作文八:《不寻常的“礼物”[文档资料]》5400字
不寻常的“礼物”
本文档格式为WORD,感谢你的阅读。
I was 12 years old when my mum finally 1)
cajoled my grandmother into buying a one-way ticket to Texas. It was 1994, and my grandmother―an 2)
are-eyed, high-cheeked beauty―was already well into the mid-stages of Alzheimer’s disease. It had been a few months since my family had last seen her and we weren’t sure what to expect. “Do you still have the same 3)plaid suitcases,” My mother asked
my grandmother at the airport, as we eyed the 4)
baggage carousel. “Oh,” my grandmother said.“I forgot to bring anything~ I guess we’ll have to go
shopping.” To conceal our dismay, my parents and I
turned back to the whirring 5)conveyor belts, which
soon spat out the familiar plaid bags.
A week or so later, we all took a trip to the 6)Dallas Museum of Art. In the museum gift shop, my
grandmother bought for me a children’s book about the 7)Rosetta Stone. To my significant
disappointment, I saw on the book’s cover that the Rosetta Stone was not the fist-sized jewel I had imagined; it was just a cracked slab of granite with a bunch of ancient scribbling. It might not look like much, my grandmother told me, but this was the key
that unlocked the mysteries of ancient Egypt. The
Rosetta Stone, I read in that book, had been found
only a couple of hundred years ago, and its 8)
inscription was just the boasting of some minor Pharaoh from the dying Egyptian empire. And yet, the
Stone displayed the same message written in three languages, and it had been the close study of it that made legible the Egyptians’animal-cracker
markings, a cipher that unlocked all the great texts written on the stones and scrolls of a long-dead kingdom. A few days later, in return, we gave my
grandmother the gift of a 9)leather-bound, 10)
gilded journal. My parents and I encouraged her to write down her thoughts and memories in it. We tried to be encouraging, we tried to stay hopeful, but at
2:15am on September 9 of that year, we lost her
thoughts and memories forever. My grandmother slipped while wandering through my aunt’s dark house and fell to her death at the base of the basement-black staircase.
Many years passed, I grew up and then I grew older. Yet I also wondered if, in some ways, I was
growing backward, into my family’s past. When I was 20―after a five-day, electric bout of insomnia―a doctor gave me the same diagnosis, 11)bipolar
disorder, that another doctor had once given my grandfather, just a few years before his early,
mysterious death. Then, just as my mum had once 12)
fretted over the slips and omissions in my grandmother’s memory, I began to make similarly
fretful assessments of my mum. In these, and in many
other ways as well, my own future felt bound to my
grandmother’s deep and silent history, all the
stories that we had also lost when we lost her. One summer day, when I was 25, I searched my
family’s house for something to read. Scanning the contents of an old pile of books that a housekeeper had long ago boxed and put in a closet, my eyes
caught on a familiar 13)spine, and I slipped it
free. In my hands was the journal we had given my grandmother, 13 years before.
I held my breath as I cracked open the front cover, hoping for something impossible―a story of her life, A full account of everything she wanted me to know, On the very first page my grandmother had written two 14)cryptic sentences:“Function in
disaster. Finish in style.” The rest of those dusty, gilded pages were blank.
Function in disaster. Finish in style. I Googled those words and learned that they were not originally hers―it was a quote from a famous American schoolteacher. Why had my grandmother written it,
Maybe it was just something she 15)jotted
down, some 16)aphorism she heard, liked and wished
to remember. Still, preceding the hundreds of empty pages of her journal, it was impossible not to read those two short, imperative sentences as an 17)
epigraph, or else a concluding moral, to the
blanked story of her life.
Function in disaster. Finish in style. I imagined my grandmother in the chaotic midst of her adult life, with four young daughters and a husband
in a mental asylum, barely managing, and yet never
relinquishing the coolly radiant elegance that is so plainly visible in any photograph of her.
Function in disaster. Finish in style. The spirit of that sentiment attached to the few facts I knew about her history, and more images and words
came―I knew they were more the imagined stuff of my own hopes and worries than actual history, but they
felt indelible. I wrote them down.
Function in disaster. Finish in Style: it
might only have been a simple quotation, words that
were not even her own, but it became the Rosetta
Stone by which I translated her silence into my imagination. Soon I had filled three hundred blank pages, a book I titled The Storm at the Door.
The Rosetta Stone was found by accident, my
grandmother once told me. It had been there all along, but no one had seen it for what it was. A feather of wonderment brushed my 12-yearold spine as I sat to read.
I don’t know if my grandmother meant to leave those sentences for me to discover, just as I can’t
ever know the full story of the disasters in which she managed to function. But I can’t imagine a better final gift, nor can I think of how she could have given it to me with any more wondrous style.
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作文九:《不寻常的“礼物”.doc》5300字
不寻常的“礼物”
I was 12 years old when my mum finally 1)cajoled my grandmother into buying a one-way ticket to Texas. It was 1994, and my
grandmother―an 2)are-eyed, high-cheeked beauty―was already well into the mid-stages of Alzheimer’s disease. It had been a few months since my family had last seen her and we weren’t sure what to expect. “Do you still have the same 3)plaid suitcases,” My
mother asked my grandmother at the airport, as we eyed the 4)
baggage carousel. “Oh,” my grandmother said.“I forgot to bring anything~ I guess we’ll have to go shopping.” To conceal our dismay,
my parents and I turned back to the whirring 5)conveyor belts,
which soon spat out the familiar plaid bags.
A week or so later, we all took a trip to the 6)Dallas Museum of Art. In the museum gift shop, my grandmother bought for me a children’s book about the 7)Rosetta Stone. To my significant disappointment, I saw on the book’s cover that the Rosetta Stone was not the fist-sized jewel I had imagined; it was just a cracked slab of granite with a bunch of ancient scribbling. It might not
look like much, my grandmother told me, but this was the key that unlocked the mysteries of ancient Egypt. The Rosetta Stone, I read
in that book, had been found only a couple of hundred years ago,
and its 8)inscription was just the boasting of some minor Pharaoh from the dying Egyptian empire. And yet, the Stone displayed the
same message written in three languages, and it had been the close
study of it that made legible the Egyptians’animal-cracker
markings, a cipher that unlocked all the great texts written on the stones and scrolls of a long-dead kingdom. A few days later,
in return, we gave my grandmother the gift of a 9)leather-bound,
10)gilded journal. My parents and I encouraged her to write down her thoughts and memories in it. We tried to be encouraging, we
tried to stay hopeful, but at 2:15am on September 9 of that year,
we lost her thoughts and memories forever. My grandmother slipped while wandering through my aunt’s dark house and fell to her death at the base of the basement-black staircase.
Many years passed, I grew up and then I grew older. Yet I also wondered if, in some ways, I was growing backward, into my family’
s past. When I was 20―after a five-day, electric bout of insomnia―
a doctor gave me the same diagnosis, 11)bipolar disorder, that
another doctor had once given my grandfather, just a few years
before his early, mysterious death. Then, just as my mum had once
12)fretted over the slips and omissions in my grandmother’s memory,
I began to make similarly fretful assessments of my mum. In these,
and in many other ways as well, my own future felt bound to my grandmother’s deep and silent history, all the stories that we had also lost when we lost her. One summer day, when I was
25, I searched my family’s house for something to read. Scanning the contents of an old pile of books that a housekeeper had long
ago boxed and put in a closet, my eyes caught on a familiar 13)
spine, and I slipped it free. In my hands was the journal we had given my grandmother, 13 years before.
I held my breath as I cracked open the front cover, hoping for
something impossible―a story of her life, A full account of
everything she wanted me to know, On the very first page my grandmother had written two 14)cryptic sentences:“Function in
disaster. Finish in style.” The rest of those dusty, gilded pages
were blank.
Function in disaster. Finish in style. I Googled those words and learned that they were not originally hers―it was a quote from a famous American schoolteacher. Why had my grandmother written it,
Maybe it was just something she 15)jotted down, some 16)
aphorism she heard, liked and wished to remember. Still, preceding
the hundreds of empty pages of her journal, it was impossible not to read those two short, imperative sentences as an 17)epigraph,
or else a concluding moral, to the blanked story of her life.
Function in disaster. Finish in style. I imagined my grandmother in the chaotic midst of her adult life, with four young daughters
and a husband in a mental asylum, barely managing, and yet never
relinquishing the coolly radiant elegance that is so plainly visible in any photograph of her.
Function in disaster. Finish in style. The spirit of that sentiment attached to the few facts I knew about her history, and
more images and words came―I knew they were more the imagined stuff of my own hopes and worries than actual history, but they felt
indelible. I wrote them down.
Function in disaster. Finish in Style: it might only have been
a simple quotation, words that were not even her own, but it became
the Rosetta Stone by which I translated her silence into my imagination. Soon I had filled three hundred blank pages, a book
I titled The Storm at the Door.
The Rosetta Stone was found by accident, my grandmother once
told me. It had been there all along, but no one had seen it for
what it was. A feather of wonderment brushed my 12-yearold spine as I sat to read.
I don’t know if my grandmother meant to leave those sentences for me to discover, just as I can’t ever know the full story of
the disasters in which she managed to function. But I can’t imagine
a better final gift, nor can I think of how she could have given
it to me with any more wondrous style.
作文十:《小学六年级作文:一份不寻常的礼物》1500字
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就在这个周末,我收到了一个看不见摸不着的特殊礼物,那就是快乐。快乐无处不在,快乐很简单。而我的快乐是从失败中得来的。
周六,我和爸爸一起去了万龙八亿滑雪场滑雪。我怀着高兴的心情穿上了滑雪套装去滑雪。刚一进学场就看见已经有很多人在滑雪了。白白的雪被人们鲜艳的衣服染成了五彩缤纷的颜色。
我还不会滑雪,所以妈妈给我请了一个教练,听说只要学会就玩转自如了。我非常高兴,那样就不会摔倒了。教练先教我如何控制滑雪板,让它如何停住,我记住了要领,不一会儿就会了。教练带着我从传送电梯来到了雪坡上,从下面看雪坡不大,可到了上面雪坡好像变陡了,我还看见有些人往下滑的时候摔得“很惨”,我心里没底了,不禁有一些害怕。
等我站好了,教练就让我慢慢向下滑,我慢慢的慢慢的挪动滑板,一点一点地小心翼翼的向下滑。哈哈,我还行,刚才记住了些要领,居然挺稳。我正得意,脚下一滑腿一软“扑通”我摔倒了,不过不疼,我倒觉得挺好玩。要不是这次摔倒我还不知道躺在雪地有多舒服呢!尽管教练手把手的教我,但我还是一次又一次的摔倒,但我感到一次次的快乐。不一会儿,我滑的越来越快了,教练也不用管我了,我心里非常有成就感。
这次滑雪我收获了许多快乐,而且我还明白了摔倒了再爬起来没什么大不了,“失败乃成功之母”嘛。我这次收到的礼物非常不同吧!
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