Trumpet-blowing Swan: Why does Sam have so many questions

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Trumpet-blowing Swan: Why does Sam have so many questions

E.B. White

The representative works of American writer E.B. White, he created three children's novels "Charlotte's Net", "Elf Mouse Brother" and "Trumpet Swan" widely circulated around the world and have a huge reputation. Ren Rong dissolved translation.

Chapter 2 Ponds

The pond that Sam found that spring morning was off the beaten track. Throughout the winter, snow covered the ice, and the pond lay cold and still under its white blanket. Most of the time you can't hear a sound at all. The frog was asleep. The golden chipmunk was asleep. Occasionally, a blue wooden bird chirps twice. Sometimes at night the fox would bark—a high-pitched and piercing cry. Winter seems to be going on like this forever, with no end in sight.

But one day, the forest and the pond changed. A warm wind, brisk and gentle, blows among the trees. The ice that had softened at night began to melt. One by one, water appeared. All the animals living in the ponds and forests are happy to feel warm. They heard and felt the breath of spring, and they began to move because of new life and hope. There was a nice smell of new air in the air, the breath of the earth waking up after a long sleep. The frogs, who had been buried in the mud at the bottom of the pool, knew that spring had arrived. The know that spring is coming quickly (almost everything makes the happy). The female fox sleeping in the hole knew that she would soon have a little fox. Every animal knows that it is about to lead a better, easier life—warmer days, happier nights. The tree grows green buds, and the buds gradually grow. The birds began to fly from the south, and a pair of wild ducks flew in. The red-winged crows flew in and found a place to nest on the pond. A little white-throated sparrow flew in and sang, "Oh, lovely Canada, Canada, Canada!" ”

On a warm spring day, and as it gets to late afternoon, if you happen to be sitting on the edge of a pond, you'll hear an exciting sound coming from high above your head—a sound that sounds a lot like a trumpet.

"Cluck-ho, cluck-ho!"

If you lift your head at this time, you will see two large white birds high above your head. They flew briskly, their legs straight up to the back, their long white necks straight ahead, their strong wings flapping rhythmically and powerfully. "Cluck-ho, cluck-ho, cluck-ho!" There was a deafening sound in the air, the trumpet of the swans.

As soon as the two large birds spotted the pond, they began to spin around, taking a good look at the place from the air, then gliding down, stopping at the surface of the water, folding their long wings, turning their heads around to observe their new environment. They are two trumpeting swans, big snow-white birds with black beaks. They fell in love with the view of the everglades pond and decided to make it a short-term home, where they would have children.

Two swans flew long distances and were tired. They were happy to fly down from the sky. They paddled slowly back and forth for a while, then began to look for food, sticking their necks into the shallow water and pulling out roots and plants from the bottom. They are snow-white all over, except for their mouths and feet, which are black. They hold their heads high. They came, and the pond seemed to have changed.

For the next few days, both swans were resting. They eat when they're hungry. They are thirsty— and this is often — they drink. On the tenth day, the female swan began to look around, looking for a place to make her nest.

In the spring of the year, the female swan thinks only of making a nest: this is the most important thing. If it finds a good place, it will be able to lay eggs and hatch its cygnets. If it finds a bad place, it won't be able to have children. The female swan knows this, and it knows that the decisions it makes are crucial.

The two swans first looked at the upper end of the pond, where a small stream flowed in slowly. It was lovely with reeds and cordyceps. Red-winged crows are busy nesting in this area of the pond, and a pair of mallard ducks are courting. The two swans then swim to the lower end of the pond, where there is a swamp and forest on one side and a grassland infested with deer on the other. It was quiet. On one shore, a long strip of sand juts out into the pond, like a small peninsula. Opposite the tip of this strip, a few feet from the water, is a very small island, not much larger than a dining table. There is a small tree growing on the island, as well as rocks, ferns and grass.

"Look here!" The female swan swam around and said.

"Uh-huh!" Its husband replied that it was glad to have someone who had sought its opinion.

The female swan carefully emerged from the water and set foot on the island. The location seemed fitting – just the right nest to be made. While the male swan swam around the island and watched, the female looked at it until she finally found a good spot on the island. It squatted down to see how it felt to squat in this place. Its size is just right for its body. Location, only two feet from the water. Very convenient. It turned to her husband.

"What do you think?"

"An ideal location," replied the husband, "a flawless location!" I'll tell you why it's a perfect place," it said solemnly, "in case the enemy—the fox, or the raccoon, or the wolf, or the skunk—comes to this place with murderous intent, it will have to go into the water and get its body wet." Before it can go into the water, it has to go all over the place, and during this time we can see it, or hear it, and I want to make it suffer. ”

The male swan spread out its two huge wings, from the tip of the wing to the tip of the wing that was eight feet long, and then slapped the water to show its strength. This immediately makes it feel much happier. A trumpeting swan flaps its wings at the enemy, and the enemy is like being hit by a baseball bat.

Its wife pretended not to notice that her husband was showing off, but of course he saw it and was proud of his strength and bravery. To speak of husbands, it is a good thing.

The male swan observed its beautiful wife crouching on the island. It was overjoyed to see its wife begin to turn slowly, but always in the same place, trampling on the mud and grass. The female swan is making the first move of making a nest. First, it crouches down in the place it chooses. Then it turned around and pressed the dirt with its broad webbed feet, stepping the dirt out of the shallow pit like a plate. Next, it stretched its neck and pulled the small branches and grass to its side, and sprinkled them around it and under its tail, creating a nest under its body.

The male swan floats close to it. It looked closely at every movement of its wife.

"Now here comes a medium-sized branch, my dear." The male swan said. The female swan stretched her long beautiful neck as long as possible, picked up a branch, and placed it next to her.

"Now let's get some coarse grass." The male swan said very majestically.

So the female swan stretched out her neck to grab the grass, the moss, the twigs—whatever. Slowly, carefully, it built a nest, until finally it was already squatting on a large grass mound. It dried for about two hours, and then the day it did, slid back into the pond for a drink and a bite to eat.

"This head is well opened!" The male swan looked back at the newly built nest and said, "A flawless beginning!" I can't imagine how you could be so clever. ”

"It was born," replied his wife, "and there is a lot of work to be done, but on the whole it is a happy one." ”

"Yes," said the male swan, "when it is finished, you will show the fruits of your labor—with a swan nest, six feet in diameter." What bird can make? ”

"Well," said his wife, "maybe the eagle made it." ”

"Yes, but it's not a swan's nest, but an eagle's nest, and it's going to be on top of some old dead tree somewhere, not at the water's edge, and there are all kinds of water-related conveniences."

They both laughed at this. Then they began to trumpet, to pat the water, to scoop up the water and pour it on their backs, and to rush over them as if they were suddenly mad.

"Uh-huh! Whoops! Whoops! They cried.

Every beast within a mile and a half of the pond could hear the trumpets of the two swans. The fox heard it, the raccoon heard it, the skunk heard it. There was also a pair of ears that heard, but they were not beasts. But the two swans didn't know about it.

Chapter Three: The Uninvited Guest

One day, almost a week later, the female swan squatted gently into her nest and laid an egg. It wants to lay an egg in the nest every day. Sometimes it does, sometimes it doesn't. Now that there are three eggs in the nest, it is ready to lay the fourth.

It squatted there, her husband floating gracefully beside it, and at this moment it had a strange feeling that someone was peeking at it. This makes it very uncomfortable. Birds don't like to be peeked at. They especially don't like being peeked at when they're crouching in their nests. So the female swans turned their heads around and looked around. It stared intently at the tip of the strip of land that protruded into the pond near its nest. It used its sharp eyes to search for signs of intruders near the shore. But what it ended up seeing surprised it never before. At the tip of the strip sat a small boy on a large piece of wood. He was very quiet, he didn't have a gun.

"Did you see what I saw?" It quietly asked its husband.

"Nothing. What do you see? ”

"Look over there, that piece of wood. It's a boy! Now what do we do? ”

"How did a boy get here?" The male swan said quietly, "We are in the depths of the Canadian wilderness, and there is not even a single person around for many miles." ”

"That's exactly what I think," replied the female swan, "if it wasn't a boy on the big wood over there, then I wasn't a trumpeting swan." ”

The male swan was angry. "I flew so far to Canada in the north, not to deal with a boy," it said, "and we came here in this quiet place, this remote little hermitage, to be able to enjoy a little bit of the quiet life we deserve." ”

"Yes," said his wife, "I'm sorry to see this boy, but I have to say he's very disciplined." He saw us, but he didn't throw stones. He doesn't throw branches. He doesn't make trouble. He just looked at it like that. ”

"I don't want to be seen," complained the male swan, "and I flew a hundred and eighteen thousand miles to the heart of Canada, but I didn't come to show it." Besides, I don't want you to be seen — only by me. You're laying eggs — I mean, I hope you're laying an egg — and you have the right to stay private. All the boys throw stones and threw branches, and that's my experience – it's their nature too. I'm going to go over and punch the boy with my powerful wings, and he'll think he's been hit with a baton. I'm going to knock him unconscious!" ”

"No, wait a minute!" The female swan said, "There's no need to hit him." The boy is not bothering me at the moment. He didn't bother you either. ”

"But how did he get here?" The male swan said that it no longer whispered, but shouted and shouted. "How did he get here?" Boys can't fly, and there are no roads in this part of Canada. We were also fifty miles away from the nearest highway. ”

"Maybe he's lost," said the female swan, "maybe he's going to starve to death." Maybe he wanted to rob our nests and eat our eggs, but I didn't think so. He didn't look hungry. Anyway, I've built this nest, I've laid three beautiful eggs, and the boy is very well behaved at the moment, and I'm going to lay a fourth one. ”

"Good luck, my dear!" The male swan said, "I am by your side, and in case something happens, I will protect you." Lay the eggs down. ”

For the next hour, the male swan circled the island, slowly paddling around the island, swimming in clusters and guarding. Its wife continued to squat quietly in the nest. Sam sat on a large piece of wood, and his muscles rarely moved. He saw the two swans as if they had been hit by magic. They were the largest birds he had ever seen in his life. He heard them blowing, and he searched and searched in the forest and the swamp, and finally found this pond, found this nest. Sam has studied birds and knows they are trumpet-blowing swans. As long as he is among nature's wild animals, Sam will always feel happy. He sat on his big log and watched the two swans, and it felt like it was when people sat in church.

After watching for an hour, Sam stood up. He walked away slowly and quietly, one foot at a time, moving straight and straight, as the Indians walked, without making a sound at all. Two swans watched him leave. When the female swan leaves her nest, turn around and look back. On the soft pile of feathers at the bottom of the nest, a fourth egg lay safely. The male swan went to the island to see the nest.

"A masterpiece!" It says, "A well-proportioned of the most beautiful eggs." I would say that this egg is almost five inches long. ”

Its wife was delighted to hear it.

The female swan laid a total of five eggs and was very satisfied. It looked at them triumphantly. Then it squatted in its nest to keep its eggs warm. It carefully stuck its mouth down, plucking each egg just so that they could absorb the heat of its body. The male swan cruises close enough to cruise the surrounding area, accompanying it while defending it from enemies. It knew where a fox was sneaking in the forest, and it had heard the fox's cries as it hunted something at night.

As the days passed, the female swan always squatted quietly on the five eggs. A night passed. It always sits there to give these eggs warmth. No one bothered it. The boy was gone—and maybe never came back. Something was happening inside each egg, but it couldn't see it: a little swan was taking shape. By the time a week had passed, the days had become longer and the nights had become shorter. Even on rainy days, the female swans squatted motionless and let the rain fall.

"My dear," said his husband, the male swan, one afternoon, "do you never find your task heavy or boring?" Always in such a place, sitting in such a posture, covered with those eggs, no change, no fun, no activity, no amusement, you never feel bored? Don't you ever feel bad? ”

"No," replied its wife, "I don't think so." ”

"Isn't it uncomfortable to squat on an egg?"

"Yes, uncomfortable," replied his wife, "but I can tolerate this discomfort in order to bring the little swan into the world." ”

"Do you know how much more time you have to sit?"

"No number," said the female swan, "but I noticed that the ducks on the other side of the pond had hatched their little ducklings; I noticed that the red-winged squid had also hatched their little squirrels, and one evening I saw a striped skunk hunting along the shore, with four small weasels. So I thought, my day must be coming soon. If we're lucky, we'll soon be able to see our kids – our beautiful little swans. ”

"Have you never felt hungry or thirsty?" The male swan asked it.

"No, I think," said his companion, "I have to drink some water now, if I tell the truth." ”

It was a warm afternoon and the sun was bright. The female swan felt it could safely leave those eggs for a few minutes. It stood up and first pushed some fluffy feathers onto the eggs, covering them and covering them warmly in its absence. Then it left the nest and went into the water. It quickly took a few sips of water. Then it swam to a shallow place, stuck its head under the water, and pulled up some tender plants from the bottom of the water. Then come down and pour water on the body for a bath. Then it walked to the grassy shore and stood there sorting its feathers with its mouth.

The female swan felt very comfortable. It had no idea that the enemy was nearby. It didn't notice that the red fox was hiding behind a bush and staring at it. The fox was led to the pond by the sound of splashing water. It was meant to find a goose. Now it sniffed the air and smelled a swan. The swan turned around, and the fox began to crawl slowly toward it. The swan was too big for it to take away, but it decided to bite it to death anyway and taste the blood. The male swans are still swimming in the pond. It was it that first spotted the fox.

"Be careful!" It blew a trumpet, "Watch out for the fox! It's crawling towards you, even while I'm talking! Its eyes shone with a fierce light, its fluffy tail stretched straight, its heart longed for blood, and its belly was almost close to the ground! You are extremely dangerous and we must act now! ”

The male swan was still delivering his beautiful warning speech, and something happened that surprised everyone present. Just as the fox was about to jump up and bite its sharp fangs into the female swan's neck, a branch flew through the air. It hit the fox the nose, and the fox turned and fled. The two swans still didn't understand what was going on. Then they saw movement in the bushes. Coming out of there was Sam Beaver, the same boy who had seen them a month before. Sam grinned with his teeth out. He held another branch in his hand in case the fox came back. But the fox lost his soul and did not want to come back. Its nose hurt so badly that it had no appetite to eat fresh swan meat.

"Hello guys." Sam said in a low voice.

"Cluck-ho, cluck-ho!" The male swan answered.

"Uh-huh!" Its wife said.

The pond was filled with trumpets—the cheers of defeating the foxes, the cheers of victory.

Sam was deafened by the sound of two swans, which some say sounded like the sound of a French trumpet. He walked slowly along the shore to the small sharp corner near the island and sat on his big log. The two swans now understood, and there was no doubt that the boy was their friend. He saved the life of the female swan. He came to the right place at the right time and picked up the right weapon. The two swans were grateful to him. The male swan swam toward Sam, climbed out of the pond, stood close to him, looked at him with friendly eyes, and arched its long neck gracefully. At one point, it carefully stretched its neck farther away and almost touched the boy. Sam didn't move. His heart pounded with excitement and joy.

The female swan paddled back into its nest, reworking its work of warming those eggs, and she felt lucky to survive.

That night, before Climbing into his bed in the tent, Sam took out his notepad and found a pencil. Here are the words he wrote:

Under the heavens, I don't know what could look more remarkable than a nest with eggs. An egg, because there is life in it, is the most perfect thing. It's beautiful and mysterious. An egg is much better than a tennis ball or a piece of soap. A tennis ball is always a tennis ball. A piece of soap is always a piece of soap — until it gets smaller and smaller, so small that no one wants it, throw it away. But an egg will one day become a living animal. The swan egg will open and a little swan will emerge from inside. The bird's nest is almost as remarkable and mysterious as the egg. How can a bird know how to make a nest? No one has ever taught it. How can a bird know how to make a nest?

Sam closed his notepad, said goodnight to his father, blew out the lights, and climbed into his bed. He lay there wondering how the birds could know how to make nests. Soon, his eyes closed and he fell asleep.

Chapter Seven: The Days of Class

A few days after the swans arrived at their wintering home on Red Rock Lake, Louis had an idea. It decided that since it could not use its voice, it should learn to read and write. "If I'm flawed in one way," it says to itself, "I should allow myself to develop in other ways." I want to learn to read and write. Then I hung a small stone slab around my neck with a dolmen pen. That way, I'll be able to talk to anyone who can read in writing. ”

Louis loves to make friends, and it already has many friends on the lake. The place is a sanctuary for water birds – there are swans, geese, ducks and other water birds. They live here because it's a safe place, and the water here is warm in the coldest climates of winter. Louis's swimming skills are highly admired by everyone. It likes to compete with other little swans to see who is the farthest downstream and stays the longest.

When Louis made up his mind to learn to read and write, he decided to visit Sam Beaver for his help. "Perhaps," Louis thought, "Sam would let me go to school with him, and the teacher would teach me to write. The idea excites it. It doesn't know if the little "people" can receive little swans in the classroom. It doesn't know if learning to read and write is not hard. The main thing is that it doesn't know if it can find Sam. Montana is a big state, and it can't even say for sure if Sam lives in Montana, but it wants him to live here.

The next morning, taking advantage of mom and dad not paying attention, Louis flew into the sky. It flies in a northeasterly direction. When it came to the Yellowstone River, it flew along the river to Sweet Grass Township. It saw a town below, flew down, landed next to a small school, and waited for the boys and girls to finish school. Louis looked at one by one, hoping to see Sam. But Sam wasn't among them.

"Not this town, not this little school," Louis thought, "I'm going to try again." ”

It flew away, found another town, and landed at another elementary school, but all the elementary school students came home from school.

"I'll just look around." Louis thought. It did not dare to walk down the street for fear that someone would shoot it. It flew up, flying low, spinning around to look closely at every boy it touched. After flying for about ten minutes, it saw a ranch house and a boy was chopping wood near the kitchen door. The boy had black hair. Louis glided down.

"I'm so lucky," it thought, "that's sam." ”

As soon as Sam saw a swan coming, he put down his axe and stood motionless. Louis timidly stepped forward, then lowered his head to untie Sam's shoelaces.

"Hello." Sam said in a friendly voice.

Louis wanted to say "Cluck-ho," but couldn't make a sound out of his throat.

"I know you," Sam said, "and you're just the little swan who doesn't make a sound, pulling on my shoelaces." ”

Louis nodded.

"I'm glad to see you," Sam said, "can I do anything for you?" ”

Louis just looked straight ahead.

"Are you hungry?" Sam asked.

Louis shook his head.

"Are you thirsty?"

"Are you going to spend the night with us at the ranch here?" Sam asked.

Louis nodded and bounced.

"No problem," Sam said, "we live somewhere." The problem was simply to get my dad's consent. ”

Sam picked up the axe, put a piece of firewood on the anvil, and went down with an axe, splitting the firewood in half. He looked at Louis.

"There's something wrong with your throat, right?" he asked.

Louis nodded and moved his neck up and down desperately. It knew that Sam was its friend, though it did not know that Sam had once saved his mother's life.

After a few minutes, Mr. Beaver rode into the yard on a short-legged horse that herded cattle. He got off his horse and tied it to a stake. "What did you get?" He asked Sam.

"It's the little trumpet swan," Sam said, "and it's only a few months old." Can you let me raise it for a while? ”

"Well," said Mr. Beaver, "I suppose it would be against the law to adopt one of these wild fowls." But I can call the Fishing and Hunting Law Enforcement officer and see what he has to say. If he says yes, you can adopt it. ”

"Tell the executive that there's something wrong with the swan." Sam yelled at his dad as he walked toward the house.

"What's wrong with it?" His dad asked.

"It has the problem of not making a sound," Sam replied, "and there is something wrong with its throat." ”

"What do you say? Who's ever heard of a swan having the problem of not making a sound? ”

Sam said, "This is a trumpet-blowing swan that can't blow a trumpet. It has vocal defects. It doesn't make any sound at all. ”

Mr. Beaver looked at his son as if he didn't know whether to believe him. But he went into the house. He returned a few minutes later. "The executive said, if you can help this little swan, you can leave it here for a while. But sooner or later this little swan will have to return to Red Rock Lake, where it belongs. The executive also said that he would not promise anyone to keep a little swan, but he promised you to keep it because he knew you knew birds and he trusted you. It's highly rated, kid. ”

Mr. Beaver looked pleased. Sam looked very happy. Louis was greatly relieved. After a while, everyone went into the ranch house and ate in the kitchen. Mr. Beaver allowed Louis to stand next to Sam's chair, and they fed him some corn and wheat, which were delicious.

When Sam was about to go to bed, he wanted Louis to sleep in his room and be with him, but Mr. Beaver said no. "It's going to make a mess of the room. It's not a golden bird, it's too big. Put it in the barn. It could sleep in an empty stable that those horses wouldn't care about. ”

The next morning, Sam took Louis to the school. Sam rode his pony to go, and Louis flew with him. At school, the other children were amazed to see the big bird: it had a long neck, bright eyes, and big feet. Sam introduced it to the stocky first-grade teacher, Mrs. Hammerbotham. Sam explained to her that Louis had to learn to read and write because his throat couldn't make a sound.

Mrs. Hammerbotham looked at Louis. Then she shook her head. "Birds can't come!" She said, "I've had enough trouble. ”

Sam looked disappointed.

"Please, Mrs. Hammerbotham," he said, "and beg you to let it stand in your class and learn to read and write." ”

"Why does a bird have to read or write?" The teacher replied, "Only people need to exchange ideas with others." ”

"That's not entirely true, Mrs. Hammerbotham," sam said, "if you forgive me for saying that. I have observed many birds and beasts. All the birds and beasts talk to each other—they do have to talk and get along. Mother birds and beasts have to talk to their children. The male birds and beasts have to talk to the female birds and beasts, especially in the spring of the year, when they fall in love. ”

"In love?" Mrs. Hammerbotham said, and upon hearing this she seemed to be shaken, "What do you know about love?" ”

Sam blushed.

"What kind of bird is it?" The teacher asked.

"It's a little trumpeting swan," Sam said, "and right now it's dirty gray, but next year it's going to be the most beautiful bird you'll ever see—snow-white, with a black beak and black feet." It hatched in Canada in the spring and now lives in Redstone Lake, but it doesn't say 'cluck-ho' like other swans, which is very bad for it. ”

"Why?" The teacher asked.

"Because it's a disadvantage," Sam said, "would you be worried if you were to say 'cluck-ho- ho' and not make a sound?" ”

"I'm not going to say'cling-ho,' replied the teacher, "I don't even know what that means." It's silly anyway, Sam. How could you have imagined that a bird could learn to read and write? This is not possible. ”

"Give it a chance!" Sam begged the teacher, "It's very disciplined, it's smart, it just has this very serious problem of not being able to pronounce." ”

"What's its name?"

"I don't know." Sam replied.

"But," said Mrs. Hammerbossom, "it has to come to my class, and it has to have a name." Maybe we can ask its name. "She looked at the little swan." Is your name Joe? ”

"Name Jonathan?"

"Call Donald?"

Louis still shook his head.

"Your name is Louis, right?" Mrs. Hammerbotham asked.

Louis nodded vigorously, his feet bouncing and flapping his wings.

"See the ghost of Julius Caesar!" The teacher shouted, "Look at its wings! Well, its name is Louise—that's no problem. Well, Louis, you can get into this class. You're standing next to the blackboard here. Don't mess up the room either! If you have something to do to leave the classroom, you raise a wing. ”

Louis nodded. All the first-graders cheered. They liked the look of the new classmate and were anxious to see what it could do.

"Silence, students!" Mrs. Hammerbotham said solemnly, "We'll start with the letter A now." ”

She picked up a piece of chalk and wrote a big A on the chalkboard. "Now you're going to write and read, Louis!"

Louis picked up a piece of chalk in his mouth and wrote a boxy A under the letter the teacher had written.

"You see?" Sam said, "It's an unusual bird. ”

"But," said Mrs. Hammerbotham, "A is easy to write. Let me make it a little harder. She said and wrote cat on the blackboard, "Write this word for us to see, Louis." ”

Louis wrote cat.

"Cat is still easy to write," the teacher grunted. "Cat is easy to write because it's short. Who can come up with a word longer than cat? ”

"Catastrophe." Charles Nelson, who was sitting in the first row, said.

"Well," said Mrs. Hammerbosham, "that's a very good difficult word. But who knows what it means? What is catastrophe? ”

"An earthquake." A girl said.

"Correct!" The teacher replied, "What else?" ”

"So is war." Charles Nelson said.

"Correct!" Mrs. Hammerbotham answered. "What else?"

A tiny red-haired girl, named Jenny, raised her hand.

"Well, Jenny, what do you say?" What is catastrophe? ”

Jenny said in a shrill voice, "Let's say I'm going to a picnic with mom and dad, making peanut butter sandwich bread and curry roll cakes, putting them in an incubator that also puts bananas, apples, grape biscuits, paper towels, a few bottles of soda, a few boiled eggs, and then puts the incubator in the car." Just as I was about to leave, it started to rain, so Mom and Dad said that they couldn't go out for a picnic on a rainy day, which was catastrophe. ”

"Very well, Jenny," said Mrs. Hammerbossom, "this thing is not as bad as an earthquake, and this thing is not as terrible as war. But I was about to go to a picnic but it happened to rain, and for a child, I think this is catastrophe. Catastrophe is a suitable word anyway. No bird can write a word like that. If I could teach a bird to write catastrophe, it would be big news in Sweet Grass Township. My picture will be published in Life magazine. I became famous. ”

While thinking about all these things, she walked over to the blackboard and wrote CATASTROPHE in large letters.

"Well, Louis, you write this word to us."

Louis picked up another piece of chalk with his mouth. It's a little scary. It takes a closer look at the words written by the teacher. "A long word," it thought, "is no harder than a short word." I just need to copy every letter and I will be able to write it very quickly. Besides, my life is catalyst, and not being able to make a sound is catalyst. Then it started writing. CATASTROPHE, it was written, every letter was neatly written. As it was written to the last letter, the schoolchildren clapped their hands and stomped their feet and tapped their desks, and one of the boys quickly folded out a paper airplane and threw it into the air. Mrs. Hammerbotham told everyone to keep order.

"Very well, Louis," she said, "Sam, now it's time for you to go back to your own classroom—you shouldn't be in my classroom." Go back to fifth grade. I'll take care of your swan friends. ”

Sam went back to his classroom and sat down at his desk and chair, happy that things had gone so well. Fifth grade was in a numeracy class when their teacher, Miss Anne Snag, saw Sam coming and asked him a question. This Miss Snag was young and pretty.

"Sam, if a man could walk three miles an hour, how many miles could he walk in four hours?"

"It depends on how tired he is after the first hour of walking." Sam replied.

The other students quarreled. Miss Snag told everyone to calm down.

"Sam is quite right," she said, "I haven't thought about this before. I always thought that man could walk twelve miles in four hours. But Sam may be right: After the first hour of walking, the person may not feel so energetic. He may be dragging his legs. He may slow down. ”

Albert Bigelow raised his hand, "My dad knows a guy who wanted to walk twelve miles and died of heart failure. Albert said.

"Oh my God!" The teacher said, "I also think it could happen." ”

"Anything can happen in four hours," Sam said, "and the heels may come out of the blisters." There may be berries growing on the side of the road, and he stopped to pick berries to eat. That way, even if he's not tired, or if his heels don't get out of the blisters, it will slow him down. ”

"It does," said the teacher, "well, boys, I think we've all learned a lot about arithmetic, thanks to Sam Beaver." There is still a question for a girl in the classroom to answer. Feeding a baby with a milk bottle is eight ounces, so after feeding two, how many ounces did the baby drink? ”

Linda Staples raised her hand.

"About fifteen ounces." She said.

"Why?" Miss Snag asked, "Why didn't that baby drink sixteen ounces?" ”

"Because he spills a little bit every time," Linda said, "the milk runs down the corners of his mouth and onto his mother's apron." ”

This time the whole class screamed so loudly that the arithmetic class had to end. But everyone has learned how careful you are when dealing with numbers.

Here, I have chosen three chapters from the novel "The Swan Blowing trumpet" by the American children's literature master E.B. White to share with readers.

The second chapter writes about the pond of Spring in Canada, which is like a spring breeze blowing on the face, unconsciously, the air flows, warm and moist. White's writing is concise and powerful, not much in one word, not much in one word. Reading his original English text, it is more natural and smooth, and the use of words is simply to the point of transformation. The third chapter writes that two swans and Sam form a friendship, and Sam receives sweet memories because of his kindness. The seventh chapter writes that Louis the Little Swan came to Sam and entered elementary school with Sam's help. Every chapter in the novel is evocative, but I have to pick a part to share with the reader. I would like you to see these selected readings and immediately have the idea of reading the whole book.

At the end of October 2011, at the invitation of the bilingual school affiliated to Shanghai Chinese University, I read "The Swan Blowing the Trumpet.B" with the fourth graders of their school on Wednesday, October 27, with the fourth graders of their school.

I thought it was just to give a lesson to more than forty primary school students, but I didn't expect to walk out of the principal's office and go to the large classroom, but found that there were thirty or forty teachers and parents sitting in the back half of the classroom.

I think the school deliberately selected fourth-grade students to listen to my lectures - the fifth grade was facing junior high school, and there were homework and exam training every day, and there was a lot of pressure, and there was no "spare time" to listen to my lectures. The first grade is too young, and the second grade is not enough to understand; the third grade is actually very good, but the school probably still feels that it is not enough. Fourth-graders are the most suitable, having both a foundation in reading and a certain level of comprehension and experience.

In the classroom, they all sat up straight, their hands on the table, very serious, very serious.

At first, I asked my classmates if they had all read Swans Blowing Trumpets. The students answered in unison: Read it!!

It was loud and startled me. But the children's vibrant faces delighted me. I actually wish they had relaxed a bit, at least not folded their hands so neatly. I think that if the class content is interesting and the interaction between the teacher and the child is vivid and interesting, they will listen to it even if they do not fold their hands.

I asked them again, have they ever seen a cartoon based on this novel? The translation is called "True Love with Goose Walking".

The students all shook their heads. I said, I haven't had time to look at it yet, but the little sister in our house has seen it. She told me that there was a detail in the cartoon that was not in the novel—Louis the Little Swan returned to Red Rock Lake after going to school to read, and a domineering giant swan, jealous of his good relationship with Miss Swan Serena, suddenly attacked Luis. Louis flew up into the sky to escape, chasing the fierce giant swan behind him. They flew to a steep cliff one after the other, and Louis suddenly saw a sign in front of them: Sharp turn, slow down! Louis hurried upwards to avoid danger, and the giant swan behind him was illiterate, and because he was illiterate, he continued to lunge and crashed headlong into the cliff.

You can all imagine how ridiculous that ridiculous giant swan is in a cartoon. Imagine you've all seen the exaggerated chase scenes in those Disney cartoons... The students all laughed. Everyone knows that American animation likes to chase, and almost all the characters in the film are chasing. They like exaggerated, impact-packed graphics, and the classic chase is the Tom and Jerry series. I said, I hope you have free time to go and see this animation.

Animation is a visual art, and its means of expression are different from novels. This detail was told to me by my daughter, who reminded me in particular how important it is to talk to these fourth-graders about how important it is to read more and read more, and that if Swan Louis is illiterate, he will crash headlong into the cliff and "feather" and scatter. The students listened, nodded their heads, and felt that it was still beneficial to recognize words. Think about it, how miserable it is to be illiterate.

My daughter once commented, Dad, you're a bit like Louis's dad.

I confessed to my classmates that sometimes I was really similar to Louis's dad, some nagging, some big and small, some bragging, saying how I was when I was young. I think the dads of many of my classmates here are probably like this. This is also because these dads love their children like swan dads.

I always say that when I was a child, I went to the tree as soon as I came home from school. And my daughter's childhood memory is to do homework as soon as she comes home. She had to envy the freedom of my childhood. But I was in a rural elementary school, a wild monkey child, where is there any homework! Parents don't care, they don't set us any lofty life goals. So we are relatively free, you can go up to the tree to pick fruit, go into the water to touch the fish, and grow up freely.

Louis, the Little Swan, is born unable to make a sound, which is a fatal flaw for the trumpeting swan who prides itself on making a beautiful sound and has the ability to court. Although Louis's father always bragged about himself, he was kind-hearted and had a deep fatherly love for his son Louis, and in order to help Louis and give his son the opportunity to make a beautiful sound, he even risked his life to go to the instrument shop and rob a trumpet to give to Louis.

Swan Daddy also comforted Louis with special care, saying that you can't make a sound, well, this is not a big problem, just a little flaw. In fact, trumpeting swans don't have to make so many sounds, some people love to nag, talk all day long, mostly useless nonsense - not long ago, he also preached to Little Swan Louis about the importance of making a sound - Little Swan Louis thought to himself: My father loves to nag. Every time I see this, my daughter laughs. She obviously thought of my usual nagging at her.

The first question I asked the fourth grader was: Is such a swan father a good father?

The elementary school students raised their hands enthusiastically, and their faces showed a very warm and confident expression.

I try to give as many students the opportunity to speak. Several students said they were good dads. I asked the whole class to raise their hands to vote, and the whole class voted that Swan Dad was a good dad. If anyone votes against it I don't object, there should be an exception. I don't like to sway my child's thinking, but give them more opportunities to think. There was a boy who thought Swan Dad was much better than his own dad. Another girl said her dad never played with her. Then, the whole class began to discuss their own father, whether he was a good father, and how to be a good father. I encouraged one of the boys to have a good conversation with his dad.

My second question is: Louis's dad robbed the musical instrument shop, right?

This question is a bit difficult for fourth-grade elementary school students. I don't set standard answers, I just want to see how my classmates think.

In response to this question, I say that it is wrong to rob at any time, even if Daddy Swan's love for little Louis drives him to do so. Little Swan Louis thought very clearly about it, and he knew that Dad had done the wrong thing for him and went to rob a musical instrument shop. Recognizing the problem, he decided to make an effort to make money, and when he had made enough money, he would go back to the instrument shop. This is an important passage in the novel. We must understand that some things have a bottom line, and other issues can express their own opinions, but on such basic issues, we must adhere to the bottom line of morality and law, which is also the cornerstone of a modern society for a civilized society. But at the same time, we must also realize that mistakes made are not irreparable, but can be remedied. This places a moral demand not only on each of us, but also on society for a relatively broad space for everyone to tolerate mistakes and encourage repentance.

We are still faced with a strong "divide in two" simple and cruel mode of thinking, the world is either black or white, and people are either good or evil. Under this simple thinking, a person who does a little wrong thing is heinous, and a person who does a little good deed is exaggerated as a saint. And human nature is complex, you can't deny his life with an occasional mistake or even horribly declare that "not killing is not enough for civilian indignation", you can't punish a student for being mischievous and sentence him to no future. In this simple way of thinking, which is often easy to become indifferent and cruel, it is difficult for us to discuss things, not to know tolerance, not to see the complexity of the world, not tolerating a spring in which all things grow, nor can we tolerate a colorful autumn.

On many issues, I think it is possible to have a different opinion, but in this basic moral issue, there must be a bottom line, and the thinking about this moral bottom line is conveyed to the students. It doesn't mean that you have needs, you're persecuted, and it's justified for you to rob and kill. Improper is unjust, and the solitary killing of the good men in the Shuihu Liangshan Mountains in search of personal justice is extremely misleading to the humanity of a country like ours, and it is still deeply rooted in the hearts of the people. We advocate a tolerant society, a pluralistic society, and we must also promote individual self-discipline. There is also a solution to making mistakes, and Louis the Little Swan in the novel solves this problem with a positive attitude. To this end, he made considerable efforts, including going to Sam and asking him to help him go to school, and then he went to play the trumpet to earn money, made a lot of money, and gave it back to the owner of the musical instrument shop.

I came with questions to discuss with the fourth graders, and I thought it was beneficial.

My third question: Sam keeps a diary every day, and at the end of each diary, he asks a question. What was his first question? The fourth-graders at the Shangwai Bilingual School were smart and had good memories, and they raised their hands to repeat Sam's question. But did Sam find the answer to the question? No. Why do foxes bark? How do swans know where to fly? Why do swans hatch in eggs? There are many questions, and they are not easy to answer. Under the question, I found that many students kept diaries, and several of them kept weekly notes, what did they remember? Many students enthusiastically replied, remembering everything, I think it is all good. Some students also keep their unhappiness in their diaries, which I think is also very good. I said that if you have a question, you don't necessarily have to find the answer immediately, and you can't copy someone else's answer or fabricate an answer without an answer. In life, in society, and in the universe, there are many questions that we humans have not been able to answer so far. In the face of the vast galaxy, human beings are still very small, and they cannot think that they know everything, that they are all-inclusive and all-things-knowing. But be curious, have questions, and maintain the ability to ask questions.

In this lesson, I asked a total of five questions, and there were no ready-made answers. Look, Teacher Ye Kai is not small, why does he have so many problems?

I still worked hard to share with my classmates the lesson that Little Swan Louis learned the letter A, the simple word cat and the complex word catstrophe in first grade, and asked an enthusiastic girl to read a clip of it. This lesson is so well written —

"So, what is a disaster?" The teacher asked, and the students' answers were varied, some said that the earthquake was a disaster, and some said that the flood was a disaster. One of the girls, Lisa, replied particularly movingly, believing that she and her family had prepared everything to eat and drink, and that they were about to go out for a picnic when it rained heavily, which was a disaster. The teacher nodded and said, Indeed, there is no greater disaster for a child.

I'd love to ask the teachers behind you what you do when you come across an answer like Lisa's? Would you tolerate this slightly "outlier" response? I believe that many kind and tolerant teachers can be tolerant. But what about once you put it in a standardized test paper? Can you tolerate this answer? Or do we have to come up with the exam questions from a different perspective, and understand these different answers from another angle?

In the novel, White's explanation of the catalyst (disaster) word is really good, simple, direct and subtle, unforgettable. I said to the students, you are all very smart, you all have a good memory, remember the word catalysthe.

Think

Drawing on the passage in "The Swan Who Blew the Trumpet", Little Swan Louis studied, write a clip of the class class, and try to write as real and interesting as possible.

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