8月28日亚太区SAT考情回顾,考生供参考!

2021-08-30 09:10:54来源:网络作者: 素素阅读量:

  上周末,SAT考试正式拉开帷幕,虽然很多考点的考试被迫取消,不过还是有不少的学生参加了新加坡的考生,这里我们针对此次SAT考试为大家分享几篇阅读文章,供大家参考!计划10月份考试的同学可以参考学习一下,目前环球教育10月SAT新加坡考团正在报名中,需要了解的小伙伴戳客服在线咨询!

  据考生反馈,8月份亚太试题整体难度中等偏上,阅读部分虽然阅读轻松,但做题时却不轻松,语法稍有难度,数学难度一般。

  第一篇

  节选自当代乌克兰裔美国女作家卡罗莱娜·德·罗伯蒂斯(Carolina De Robertis)的长篇小说《珀拉》,节选部分是讲珀拉和她母亲一起种花的一个温情片段。

  我高中最后一年,我妈妈在我们家种了一大片一大片的天竺葵花。这些花就像军队一样入侵我们的房子,明确地展示着刺眼的颜色,有的偏红,有的偏橙,一直开着,直到在一定的时节同时凋零。

  妈妈一开始是在一本杂志上了解到天竺葵这种丁字形小花的,可爱又容易养。后来又在一个海军上尉妻子家里见了一次。那位女士只是在她家窗边摆了几个漆着亮色漆的小花盆,里面种了天竺葵花。妈妈觉得只种几盆是不够的,她要种好多盆,比谁家都多。要就一盆都不种,要种就把全家都摆满。

  她沉迷于要让房屋里全是花,无论你朝哪看,都有颜色鲜艳的花冲你打招呼。要让花把椅子、架子和地毯都盖住,要让我们家成为全市花最多的房子。要让客人进我们家以后,感觉自己在花瓣海里游泳。

  我妈妈有了这个想法后,就要行动了。她买了雅致的花架、镶着马赛克的进口花盆、盛开的天竺葵花,花了不少钱。我妈妈就是这样,有时候就会突然想做点有创意的事。她年轻的时候,还想过当艺术家,不过这梦想早就抑制了。

  我妈没有跟我详细说她年轻时画画的事,但是我在阁楼里看到过她以前用的画布,所以知道一点。有时候我妈妈还会去买些设计师款的鞋、裙子、衬衣,搭配成前卫大胆的一身艺术装,不过过了几个礼拜,又会自己厌倦。

  除了对园丁吩咐几句注意事项,我以前从来没有看到我妈妈对花卉植物感兴趣。这一次却一下子对天竺葵着了迷。天竺葵的事,她不交给园丁干,而是亲自给所有天竺葵移栽,花了三天时间才完成。她叫我帮忙,我们一起蹲在院子里一盆一盆地把花栽到小花盆里,栽的时候注意摆好花的根。

  正是盛夏时分,头顶是太阳,有潮湿的微风在吹,我妈妈戴着长长的园艺手套,用手指把土压紧,不过是栽花,她干得非常讲究,还带着热情。她给我也买了一双园艺手套,我不戴。她说:“珀拉,不戴手套,你的手会搞得很脏。”我说:“我不戴,我就想把手搞脏。”

  我妈摇摇头,不说话了,但是露出一副气恼的表情。因为我妈妈认为母女两人戴着同款的园艺手套一起收拾天竺葵,这样的画面才完美。好不容易才找到这么有趣的手套,我居然不戴。我妈生气了,故意不和我说话了。这样过了半小时,她还是让步了,又跟我说话了。可能是因为我妈专注于干活,忘了我刚才不听她话的事了,也可能是她怕如果她老不理我我会干脆不帮他收拾天竺葵花了。

  其实我妈不用怕。我不会不帮她。虽然我也抱怨了她叫我干收拾花的活,但是只是轻微的抱怨。我觉得跟我妈一起静静地收拾天竺葵的时候,既可以母女俩在一起,又可以不带必须交谈的压力。我们可以紧挨着蹲着,我可以闻到她身上的香水,感觉到她呼吸的韵律,同时不用说什么话。

  我和我妈平时除了“早上好”“这是你的早饭”“你几点回家”“晚安”,就没什么话说了。我们的对话就像一个只会基本用语的外国人跟本国人说话一样。但我们是母女,又感觉要找话说,就会有点尴尬。一起栽花的时候,就没有这种尴尬。此刻,我蹲在她身边,有很多话想跟她说,又感觉说多了可能会说出些不该说的话,就想还是不要冒这个险了。

  天竺葵是生命力很强的小花。花朵颜色亮,形状简单,不招摇不装腔作势,但是集聚的数量多了,就有种让人着迷的感觉。根部是暗红色的,弯曲打卷,我在移栽的时候有些好奇地摸这些花的根。在和妈妈一起移栽的三天里,妈妈时不时还会哼小曲。小曲是我没有听过的调,但曲调婉转,让我心安。晚上我闭上眼睡觉,眼前还会出现一朵大天竺葵,纤细而有结的根部裸露着,我赶紧找来土壤盖住它的根。

  等把所有天竺葵都栽到小盆里去以后,妈妈又花了一天把这些小盆陈列好。陈列的时候,她把一个木头架子移来移去。把花全都摆好以后,她精疲力尽,最后像获胜一样倒在沙发里休息。摆好以后,在我们家里每转一次身都会看到天竺葵。你走路的时候都会感觉背后有很多天竺葵好像在看着你……你会感觉被包围了。

8月28日亚太区SAT考情回顾,考生供参考!

图片 来源网络

  Arrival Some things are impossible for the mind to hold alone. So listen, if you can, with your whole being. The story pushes and demands to be told, here, now, with you so close and the past even closer, breathing at the napes of our necks.

  He arrived on the second of March, 2001, a few minutes after midnight. I was alone. I heard a low sound from the living room, a kind of scrape, like fingernails on unyielding floor—­then silence. At first I couldn’t move; I wondered whether I had left a window open, but no, I had not. I picked up the knife from the counter, still flecked with squash, and walked slowly down the hall toward the living room with the knife leading the way, thinking that if it came to fighting I’d be ready, I’d stab down to the hilt. I turned the corner and there he lay, curled up on his side, drenching the rug.

  He was naked. Seaweed stuck to his wet skin, which was the color of ashes. He smelled like fish and copper and rotting apples. Nothing had moved: the sliding glass door to the backyard was closed and intact, the curtains were unruffled, and there was no damp trail where he might have walked or crawled. I could not feel my limbs, I was all wire and heat, the room crackled with danger.

  “Get out,” I said.

  He didn’t move.

  “Get the hell out,” I said, louder this time.

  He lifted his head with tremendous effort and opened his eyes. They were wide eyes that seemed to have no bottom. They stared at me, the eyes of a baby, the eyes of a boa. In that moment something in my core came apart like a ship losing its mooring, anchor dismantled, the terror of dark waters on all sides, and I found that I could not turn away.

  I raised the knife and pointed it at him.

  The man shuddered and his head collapsed against the floor. My instinct was to rush to his side, help him up, offer him a hot drink or an ambulance. But was he pretending, hoping I’d come closer so he could overpower me? Don’t do it. Don’t go near him. I took a step backward and waited. The man had given up on lifting his head again, and was watching me from the corners of his eyes. A minute passed. He did not blink or lunge or look away.

  Finally, I said, “What do you want?”

  His jaws began to work, slowly, arduously. The mouth opened and water poured out, thick and brown like the water of the river, seeping into the rug. The murky smell in the room intensified. I took another step back and pressed against the wall. It felt cool and hard and I wished it would whisper Sshhh, don’t worry, some things are solid still, but it was only a wall and had nothing to say.

  His lips worked around empty air. I waited and watched him strain to form a word. Finally he spoke, unintelligibly and too loudly, like a deaf person who has not learned to sculpt his sounds. “Co-­iii-­aahh.”

  I shook my head.

  He made the sound again, more slowly. “Coo. Iiiii. Aaaahh.”

  I tried to piece it together. “Coya?” I asked, thinking, a name? a place I’ve never heard of?

  “Coo. Miiiii. Aaah.”

  I nodded blankly.

  “Coo. Miiiii. Dah.”

  And then I understood. “Co-­mi-­da. Food. Food?”

  He nodded. Drops of water fell from his face, too copious to be sweat; they seeped from his pores, a human sponge just lifted from the river—­though even sponges would stop dripping at some point, and this man’s wetness had not relented. Without turning my gaze away from him, I pressed the knife against my arm, to see whether I was dreaming. The blade broke skin and drew blood and I felt the pain but did not wake out of this reality into another one. If my father had been here he surely would not have seen this ghoulish man, or if he had, he would have stabbed him already, without a word, then poured a glass of scotch and watched Mamá clean up the carpet. I met the stranger’s gaze and felt my heart pulse like a siren in my chest. I should attack him, I thought. I should chase him out. But I couldn’t bring myself to do either. Later, I would look back on this moment as the one when my real life began: the moment in which, without knowing why, to my own shock and against all reason, I lowered my weapon and went to forage for food.

  第二篇

  这篇是比较小众有关语言学的社科类阅读。讨论各个语言的阅读方式对人的想象有什么影响。文中举的例子是如果我告诉你,你在公园里散步,身边有个人跑过去,大多数人都会下意识觉得这个人从左往右跑。

 

  文章就在讨论这种想象是所有人与生俱来的,还是因为文字是从左到右读的才引起的。所以就有几个人做了个实验,拉了一下说意大利语的和说阿拉伯语的。意大利语是从左往右读,阿拉伯语是从右往左读。

  实验就是给这些人形容一个场景,比如说是一个男的推了一个女的,然后叫他们画出来。后来还做了类似,测反应速度的实验。反正结果就是有可能语言的方向影响了人的想象,但同时还给出了一个疑问,说有可能是因为漫画或者其他因素导致人都从左向右想东西。

  第三篇是关于运用3D打印的花做实验来研究植物捕食飞虫的。

  第四篇是历史双篇,是有关女性投票权的经典话题。

  第一篇节选自伊丽莎白·凯迪·斯坦顿(Elizabeth Cady Stanton)的《1848年在塞内卡县佛尔斯镇女权大会上的演说》(Address Delivered at Seneca Falls),主要的观点就是女性应当得到选举权;第二篇节选自弗朗西斯·E·W·哈珀(Frances E. W. Harper)1893年的演说《女性的政治未来》(Woman’s Political Future),主要是讲女性选举权的获得。

  历史双篇第一篇附文(部分):

  We have no objection to discuss the question of equality, for we feel that the weight of argument lies wholly with us, but we wish the question of equality kept distinct from the question of rights, for the proof of the one does not determine the truth of the other. All white men in this country have the same rights, however they may differ in mind, body or estate. The right is ours. The question now is, how shall we get possession of what rightfully belongs to us. We should not feel so sorely grieved if no man who had not attained the full stature of a Webster, Clay, Van Buren, or Gerrit Smith could claim the right of the elective franchise. But to have drunkards, idiots, horse-racing, rumselling rowdies, ignorant foreigners, and silly boys fully recognized, while we ourselves are thrust out from all the rights that belong to citizens, it is too grossly insulting to the dignity of woman to be longer quietly submitted to. The right is ours. Have it we must. Use it we will. The pens, the tongues, the fortunes, the indomitable wills of many women are already pledged to secure this right. The great truth, that no just government can be formed without the consent of the governed, we shall echo and re-echo in the ears of the unjust judge, until by continual coming we shall weary him... .

  第五篇科学文章是生物类有关动物觅食的。

  以上就是周末SAT考试的部分内容,仅供参考。小编在此还是提醒大家,考试虽然取消,但是复习工作可不能停哦!

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