人教版（2019）选择性必修四高中英语 Unit 2 Iconic Attractions Section I

Paper cutting is one of China's most popular folk arts. Archaeological(考古学的) finds show that the tradition started in the 6th century; it is even supposed that the beginning of paper cutting is even a few centuries earlier.

Paper cuttings have special importance at festivals and on holidays. To get rid of the old and bring good luck, people put up paper cuttings on the windows on the Eve of the Spring Festival.

Paper cuttings are not produced by machine, but by hand. They are done all over China, but are different in the method in different areas. There are two kinds of paper cuttings: by using scissors or knives. As the name suggests, scissors cuttings are made with scissors. Several pieces of paper (up to eight pieces) are placed together. The patterns are then cut with pointed scissors. Knife cuttings are made by putting several pieces of paper on a table. Following a pattern, the artist cuts the patterns into the paper with a knife.

In the past, paper cuttings were usually made only by women and girls. They used scissors and paper to cut all kinds of pictures such as apple trees, peach blossoms, mice, fighting roosters and rabbits eating carrots.

This used to be one of the skills that every girl was to master. Professional paper cutting artists are, on the other hand, almost always men who can make a living by working together in workshops.

The summer before my senior year of high school, I was eating in a cafeteria with some other high school students, and one girl asked me, "Do you live in a teepee(圆锥形帐篷)?" It was such a silly question that, at first, I thought she was joking! I said, "Are you serious?" She said, "Oh, wait, I'm sorry. Is that something I shouldn't ask?" She wasn't trying to be rude, so it didn't bother me. I just said, "No, I have a house with electricity and running water. I'm not disconnected from the world!" But the truth is, I did grow up differently.

I'm a Native American, and I'm from a reservation in California. A reservation is a place that's reserved for Native American tribes(部落) by the federal government.

People often have misconceptions about what living on a reservation means. In reality, though, my life probably looks a lot like yours. But there are ways that my life has been different. The reservation is an hour from town, and there's a big connection to the land. Our house is surrounded by a mountain, a river, and a farm. We have 23 animals including 10 chickens. It's not just for show! We collect eggs from the chickens, use manure(粪肥) from the animals to fertilise soil, and pick fruit and vegetables from our garden.

I've also learned how to hunt and fish. When hunting for deer, my tribe has two rules: ①Never shoot a female deer, because she might be pregnant; ②If you kill a deer, find a way to use all of it.

Going to college has been a big change for me. There were only 25 people in my graduating class, and now I go to school with thousands. On my reservation, I was surrounded mostly by Natives, and at college, the Native population is only 0.07%. It's intimidating but also exciting.

I'm studying to become a vet—there aren't any on my reservation. If an animal gets sick, we have to drive an hour to get them help. My goal is to open a veterinary clinic that will help my reservation develop.

In 1978, I was 18 and was working as a nurse in a small town about 270 km away from Sydney, Australia. I was looking forward to having five days off from duty. Unfortunately, the only one train a day back to my home in Sydney had already left. So I thought I'd hitch a ride(搭便车).

I waited by the side of the highway for three hours but no one stopped for me. Finally, a man walked over and introduced himself as Gordon. He said that although he couldn't give me a lift, I should come back to his house for lunch. He noticed me standing for hours in the November heat and thought I must be hungry. I was doubtful as a young girl but he assured(使……放心) me I was safe, and he also offered to help me find a lift home afterwards. When we arrived at his house, he made us sandwiches. After lunch, he helped me find a lift home.

Twenty-five years later, in 2003, while I was driving to a nearby town one day, I saw an elderly man standing in the glaring heat, trying to hitch a ride. I thought it was another chance to repay someone for the favour I'd been given decades earlier. I pulled over and picked him up. I made him comfortable on the back seat and offered him some water.

After a few moments of small talk, the man said to me, "You haven't changed a bit. Even your red hair is still the same." I couldn't remember where I'd met him. He then told me he was the man who had given me lunch and helped me find a lift all those years ago. It was Gordon.