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Unit 1
TEXT I
My First Job
Text
While I was waiting to enter university, I saw in a local newspaper a teaching post advertised at a school in a suburb of London about ten miles from where I lived. Being very short of money and wanting to do something useful, I applied1, fearing as I did so, that without a degree and with no experience of teaching my chances of landing the job were slim.
However, three days later a letter arrived, summoning me to Croydon for an interview. It proved an awkward journey: a train to Croydon station; a ten-minute bus ride and then a walk of at least a quarter of a mile. As a result I arrived on a hot June morning too depressed2 to feel nervous.
The school was a dreary3, gabled Victorian house of red brick and with big staring sash-windows. The front garden was a gravel4 square; four evergreen5 shrubs6 stood at each corner, where they struggled to survive the dust and fumes7 from a busy main road.
It was clearly the headmaster himself that opened the door. He was short and rotund. He had a sandy-coloured moustache, a freckled8 forehead and hardly any hair. He was wearing a tweed suit — one felt somehow he had always worn it — and across his ample stomach was looped a silver watch-chain.
He looked at me with an air of surprised disapproval9, as a colonel might look at a private whose bootlaces were undone10. "Ah yes," he grunted11. "You'd better come inside." The narrow, sunless hall smelled unpleasantly of stale cabbage; the cream-printed walls had gone a dingy12 margarine colour, except where they were scarred with ink marks; it was all silent. His study, judging by the crumbs13 on the carpet, was also his dining room. On the mantelpiece there was a salt cellar and pepper-pot. "You'd better sit down," he said, and proceeded to ask me a number of questions: what subjects had I taken in my General School Certificate; how old was I; what games did I play; then fixing me suddenly with his bloodshot eyes, he asked me whether I thought games were a vital part of a boy's education. I mumbled14 something about not attaching too much importance to them. He grunted. I had said the wrong thing. The headmaster and I obviously had singularly little in common.
The school, he said, consisted of one class of twenty-four boys, ranging in age from seven to thirteen. I should have to teach all subjects except art, which he taught himself. Football and cricket were played in the Park, a mile away on Wednesday and Saturday afternoons.
The teaching set-up appalled15 me. I should have to split the class up into three groups and teach them in turn at three different levels; and I was dismayed at the thought of teaching algebra16 and geometry — two subjects at which I had been completely incompetent17 at school. Worse perhaps was the idea of Saturday afternoon cricket. It was not so much having to tramp a mile along the dusty streets of Croydon, followed by a crocodile of small boys that I minded, but the fact that most of my friends would be enjoying leisure at that time.
I said diffidently, "What would my salary be?" "Twelve pounds a week plus lunch." Before I could protest he got to his feel. "Now," he said, "you'd better meet my wife. She's the one who really runs this school."
This was the last straw. I was very young: the prospect18 of working under a woman constituted the ultimate indignity19.
TEXT II
The Interview
The man who looked like a terrier said: "You're Blakey, are you? Take a seat."
Blakey took a seat.
"I see you took your 'A' levels in English, French and History, and continued with the Arts at university." The terrier man looked up from Blakey's application form. "What," he asked mildly, "has prompted you to want to change to medicine?"
"Well," Blakey said — feeling anything but well — "I've always, even at school, been interested, but it was a big decision to take, and I wasn't sure at the time I had the right temperament20." The panel of three made no comment, and their silence reminded him he'd not yet answered their question. "I really wanted to write."
The man next to the terrier cleared his throat. "So the fact is you'd rather be a writer than a doctor?"
"Not necessarily," Blakey said. "It might have been true once, but for some time now my mind's been set on becoming a doctor."
"But you are capable of a change of heart." There was a long pause.
"I'm sorry," Blakey said, startled, "did you mean that as a question?"
"Well?" the man said, raising an eyebrow21.
"No, I don't think I am at all."
"And you left University without taking a degree. Is that right?"
"Yes."
"Why was this?"
"Looking back," Blakey said, "I reckon I took on too much, too many activities."
"Could you explain to us what these activities were?"
"I produced several plays for the college dramatic society," (which was true) "I spoke22 at Union debates" (also true) "and did a bit of social work" (which wasn't).
The third member of the panel frowned. "Social work?" he said, as if it were some incurable23 disease. "Tell us about that." For a thickset heavy-jowled man, his voice was oddly querulous.
"Yes," Blakey said, and described the only two student organizations of the sort he knew the names of, but which for one reason or another he'd never got round to joining.
"And if your application were successful," the terrier man said on a note of sombre improbability, "could you support yourself?" Blakey hesitated. He had a sudden premonition that his answer could be crucial.
"You have no grant?" the man prompted.
"No."
"Have you any private means?"
"I think I could manage all right."
For the first time his principal tormentor24 revealed his teeth in a tight, impatient smile. "How could you manage?"
Blakey shifted in his chair. He had begun to resent these cold, unforthcoming men who instilled25 in him a sense of guilt26. It was more a cross-examination than an interview. His desire to take up medicine seemed almost like a crime. "I had a part-time job during vacations, which enabled me to save —"
"Could you tell us," his persecutor27 persisted, "the weekly income."
He told them.
"Are you thinking of getting married in the near future?"
"No."
"What are your interests? How do you spend your spare time?"
What had he said on the form? Why did they ask him when it was all on the form? He told them he liked music, the theatre, and that he often went walking. "Once," he said, "I even took part in a fishing match."
The panel appeared not to regard this with much enthusiasm. "What games do you play?" The heavy-jowled man leaned forward hopefully. "Do you play rugger?
"No, I was at a soccer school."
"Did you ever win any prizes at anything?"
"No."
"Have any members of your family been in the medical profession?"
Blakey shook his head. "Most of my relations," he said, stung by a sense of inadequacy28, "work in the pits."
"Hm," The terrier man scribbled29 something on the form. " I think that covers pretty well everything," he said. He gave Blakey a wintry smile. "In due course you will hear from us."
It sounded to Blakey like a threat.
1 applied | |
adj.应用的;v.应用,适用 | |
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2 depressed | |
adj.沮丧的,抑郁的,不景气的,萧条的 | |
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3 dreary | |
adj.令人沮丧的,沉闷的,单调乏味的 | |
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4 gravel | |
n.砂跞;砂砾层;结石 | |
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5 evergreen | |
n.常青树;adj.四季常青的 | |
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6 shrubs | |
灌木( shrub的名词复数 ) | |
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7 fumes | |
n.(强烈而刺激的)气味,气体 | |
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8 freckled | |
adj.雀斑;斑点;晒斑;(使)生雀斑v.雀斑,斑点( freckle的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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9 disapproval | |
n.反对,不赞成 | |
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10 undone | |
a.未做完的,未完成的 | |
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11 grunted | |
(猪等)作呼噜声( grunt的过去式和过去分词 ); (指人)发出类似的哼声; 咕哝着说 | |
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12 dingy | |
adj.昏暗的,肮脏的 | |
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13 crumbs | |
int. (表示惊讶)哎呀 n. 碎屑 名词crumb的复数形式 | |
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14 mumbled | |
含糊地说某事,叽咕,咕哝( mumble的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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15 appalled | |
v.使惊骇,使充满恐惧( appall的过去式和过去分词)adj.惊骇的;丧胆的 | |
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16 algebra | |
n.代数学 | |
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17 incompetent | |
adj.无能力的,不能胜任的 | |
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18 prospect | |
n.前景,前途;景色,视野 | |
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19 indignity | |
n.侮辱,伤害尊严,轻蔑 | |
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20 temperament | |
n.气质,性格,性情 | |
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21 eyebrow | |
n.眉毛,眉 | |
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22 spoke | |
n.(车轮的)辐条;轮辐;破坏某人的计划;阻挠某人的行动 v.讲,谈(speak的过去式);说;演说;从某种观点来说 | |
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23 incurable | |
adj.不能医治的,不能矫正的,无救的;n.不治的病人,无救的人 | |
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24 tormentor | |
n. 使苦痛之人, 使苦恼之物, 侧幕 =tormenter | |
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25 instilled | |
v.逐渐使某人获得(某种可取的品质),逐步灌输( instill的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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26 guilt | |
n.犯罪;内疚;过失,罪责 | |
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27 persecutor | |
n. 迫害者 | |
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28 inadequacy | |
n.无法胜任,信心不足 | |
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29 scribbled | |
v.潦草的书写( scribble的过去式和过去分词 );乱画;草草地写;匆匆记下 | |
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