Balloon Volleyball

    It's a rainy, dark day and there's nothing to do. You don't feel like sitting quietly but you are not allowed to make a lot of noise. What can you do for fun? Try balloon volleyball.

    Items needed for this game: a balloon (or two, in case the first one bursts), some ropes, two chairs, at least two people and a room.

    Set up the room. If you're in the living room, or a family room, be sure to move all the furniture out of the way. Get two chairs and set them in the middle, outer edges(边缘)of the room. They should be at the same place where you put a volleyball net. Turn them so that the seat is facing the wall, not the “playing” space. Tie the rope onto the top of the chair, and run the rest of the rope to the other chair. Now tie it on this chair at the same place as the first chair. You can decide the “out-of-bounds”(出界) lines, if you want to have them, but they really are not necessary in this game.

    Blow up the balloon. Choose sides. You will play this game on your knees (at least until they start hurting and you want to stand). Each side must get the balloon over the rope in three hits. If it does not get over, the other side gets the balloon and a point. This game becomes more difficult because you must play without talking.

    You can also add other rules to make it more difficult; for example, you can only use your left hand or only your right hand to hit the balloon.

    Continue playing until one side gets 10 points. You can make your game longer or shorter by changing the number of points it takes to win.

    This is a fun way to get your energy out, have fun, and not make too much noise on a rainy, stay-in-the-house day.

阅读下列短文，从每题所给的四个选项 （A 、B 、C  和 D ）中，选出最佳选项。

When I lived in Spain, some Spanish friends of mine decided to visit England by car. Before they left, they asked me for advice about how to find accommodation. I suggested that they should stay at "bed and breakfast" houses, because this kind of accommodation gives a foreign visitor a good chance to speak English with the family. My friends listened to my advice, but they came back with some funny stories.

"We didn't stay at bed and breakfast houses," they said, "because we found that most families were on holiday." I thought this was strange. Finally I understood what had happened. My friends spoke little English, and they thought "VACANCIES" meant "holidays", because the Spanish word for "holidays" is said "vacaciones". So they did not go to house where the sign outside said "VACANCIES", which in English means there are free rooms. Then my friends went to houses where the sign said "NO VACANCIES", because they thought this meant people who owned the house were not away on holiday. But they found that these houses were all full. As a result, they stayed at hotels.

We laughed about this and about mistakes my friends made in reading other signs. In Spanish, the word "DIVERSION" means "fun". In English, it means that workmen are repairing the road, and that you must take a different road. When my friends saw the word "DIVERSION" on a road sign, they thought they were going to have fun. Instead, the road ended in a large hole.

English people have problems too when they learn foreign languages. Once in Paris when someone offered me some more coffee, I said "Thank you" in French, I meant that I would like some more, however to my surprise the coffee pot was taken away! Later I found out that "Thank you" in French means "No, Thank you".

    James Cook, at the age of forty, was sent by England to explore the Pacific Ocean. On his third voyage, as captain in charge of two ships, the Discovery and the Revolution, he came upon a group of unknown islands which he named the Sandwich Islands after his friend, the Earl (伯爵) of Sandwich. Today the islands are known at the Hawaiian Islands.

    When Cook sailed into a protected bay (海湾) of one of the larger islands, the natives greeted him with curiosity and respect. Some historians said that the islanders welcomed him, believing he was the god, protector of peace and agriculture.

    The islanders were short, strong people with a very well-organized social system. The men fished and raised crops. The women prepared for the children and made clothing for the men and short skirts for the women.

    Does your local high school have a student newspaper? Only 1 in 8 of New York's public high schools has student newspapers – and many of those are published just a few times a year. A few more are online, which can leave out poorer schools.

    Rebecca Dwarka, an 18-year-old senior who works for her student paper said, “Facebook is the new way of finding out what happened. Nobody wants to actually sit down and read a whole article about it. This makes a 'whole article' sound a little like a long sentence in lonely places.”

    I am not nostalgic(怀旧的) about high school student newspapers and never worked for mine. I put out what was then called a personal magazine with a group of friends because we wanted to write about peace, war and rock 'n' roll without school officials warning us not to make jokes about the local officials.

    School newspapers are in decline(衰落) because students now find out what happened on social networking websites. This is a little discouraging because it proves that for millions of Americans, journalism is becoming a do-it-yourself thing. Every citizen can be a reporter.

    When something happens, we look for social media messages. Facebook posts and Tweets have become the means by which citizens and reporters can prove, deny, pass on stories and express opinions without the press' challenging, researching or slowing the message.

    But truly good journalism is a craft, not just a blog post. It requires seeing something carefully and it uses an eye for details to help prove a larger view. And even journalism that conveys an opinion tries to be fair. If school newspapers begin to disappear, I hope there are other ways for students to learn that.

    When I was three years old, I couldn't speak. It was a strange reality that none of the doctors I visited could understand.

    One day, I was shadowing my mother. She found herself looking in a mirror, and through it our eyes met. She began to speak to me through the reflection, and I slowly began to mimic(模仿)her mouth's movements until I formed a word.

    It turned out I'm deaf in my left ear, and have a slight problem in my right. Being hard of hearing has been difficult, but I've never lived in a state of self-hating sorrow. Imagine being able to shut out all sound as you lay your head down to sleep by simply rolling over onto one side. That's my reality when I sleep on my "good ear", and it makes me feel like a superhero sometimes.

    People call my deaf side my "bad ear", but when I wear my hearing aid, I have access to a range of features that some other deaf people don't. In cinemas, for example, with one click of a button I can enjoy a whole film as though it were whispered to me from the mouths of the actors.

    Owning a hearing aid hasn't always felt good, however. On the first day I got my aid, when I was eight, I took it to school for show-and-tell. As I explained how it worked to my classmates, a boy yelled out, "Aren't those for old men?" At that moment, I felt different. It took a long time for me to get over that sense of being so unlike my peers.

    But it's not just school kids who can make us deaf and hard-of-hearing people feel like burdens. Every video on social media that lacks subtitles(字幕), for example, means an entire community of deaf people is unable to enjoy it. Completely deaf people are excluded from enjoying many movies too, as subtitles in cinemas are almost impossible to find.

    And with hearing aids costing around $2,500 each, it can be hard for many people to afford to be able to listen to the things that others take for granted. As for me, I can listen to music, enjoy films, and catch conversations - I'm lucky. I'm deaf, but I can still hear everything. I've been blessed with wonderful life experiences, and I am human. And when it comes to sleeping, I'm even superhuman.

    "I will need to open your neck to remove the tumor," the surgeon told me on a hot summer day. The words turned into white noise. "So, an ugly scar across my neck, then?" I asked. The nurse said: "Don't worry. The closure is like his signature. Just like you want a perfect scar, he wants to give you one. You'll barely see it." I found some comfort in that.

    I googled "cancer surgery scar" and was presented with neck images: necks with red and purple lines, closed with stitches or glue; necks with multiple scars....It was enough to make me shut my Macbook, as anxiety pulsed through my body. In the mirror, I admired my neck, running my finger across a gold chain I wore. Then a tiny voice said:" Mummy!"

    My then fie-year-old son. Jack, appeared in the mirror behind me. Our reflection was a big reality check. See, my son didn't know I had cancer and was having surgery. I'm a single mom. Jack lives with me and doesn't have a relationship with his father. I'm his hero. I'm the homework helper, nurse, chef, taxi driver, and every other variation of parent. I knew I couldn't lose heart over cancer or some scar on my neck --I'm this kid's life!

    So I did the next best thing I could think of: I made an appointment to get my hair done a few days before the first surgery. My goal was simple: golden hair to frame my scar. If I couldn't hide it, I might as well show it off. I never had any intentions of hiding the scar. I didn't want my son to think my scar was something to be ashamed of. I'm his role model and I needed to set a good example. Bad things can happen, but it's how you deal with them that matters.

    The scar proves I faced my fear and won. If I got through that I can get through all the hardships, land on my feet and live boldly.