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洋八路 发表于 2015-11-29 22:33
这个阶段不建议读范文,读多了,又没有思想和创意,会非常死板。而且如果所谓的范文不是什么名家作品,只 ...
很同意你的观点,要想提高写作要多读名家的作品。你说到的作家的‘声音频率’这一点很有意思。我女儿有段时间对哈里波特系列特别感兴趣,反反复复地读,后来看她写的故事都是魔法potion之类的。我希望她多读些别的作家的文章,就把哈里波特的书藏起来了。现在她喜欢读Jackie French的小说,还特别喜欢看Wimpy Kids,前几天她读了几本Kate Dicamillo的书也特别喜欢。想请教一下你对不同的作家声音频率有什么总结吗?
刚刚翻到一篇女儿年初写的recount,当时8岁半,Year 4。隐去了真实姓名,多谢指教!
Today was Friday, extraordinary school day. We had another school excursion, in a row to the one to the temple. This one went to.....guess!!! Okay, you win. The beach!!! In terrifying weather. It was 19 degrees Celsius, and that was only the air temperature! The sea temperature was technically 16 degrees Celsius, and I didn't even bring a school jacket!!! Whoopee!!! Get ready for a cold one.
The bus dropped us off on the green grassy bank which towered a little over the cold sand. We were chattering as the wind blew in our faces. We dropped our bags off at the shelter, and we walked, already pale blue in the faces and hands and feet. We waddled to the slimy pool. The rocky edge of the pool was practically covered in slimy green slime, which wavered evilly in the freezing waters. We slid nervously into the water, and screamed out loud, yelping in terror. This water terrified us. It was the coldest, most freezing water I have ever felt. The worst pool. Hey, maybe the rocky edges could be cleaner. The green slime was the most awful thing. And the worst thing was, sometimes a bit of evil green slime would pick off the walls, and slowly a new patch grew, but the old patch was washed around in the freezing waters, and sometimes would scare you by brushing against your legs, making you think it was an angry bluebottle you had annoyed. There was one bluebottle in there, that nearly stung me, but I leaped out of the water in a wink. Others were terrified and chattering as we leaped out of the freezing pool. We practically pushed others out of the way to rush to the steps which were also covered in green slime. Ew. We cowered as our feet touched the ugly green slime covering the pool steps. We raced up the steps, and ran to the welcoming sand, yellow in peace. We spent the whole ten minutes picking off that ugly green slime from the heels of our feet, from walking on the sticky steps.
Now it’s the surfing time. Donna was never quite a good swimmer. She spluttered when she went over the tiniest wave possible. Donna began to sob and cry, and Katie rumoured Donna was crying for her mummy, and giggled at her Egyptian joke. I stayed serious as Donna was technically carried by Mrs XXX all the way to the shelter, and Donna was seriously crying and sobbing, muttering sad remarks. The surfing instructor nudged me to get on the board, and I, terrified and shocked, went on the board, in horror and terror. As I went through the first wave, the water went totally over my head. Luckily, my eyes were tight shut, my mouth was tight closed, and my left hand was shutting up my open nostrils. Only a little saltwater escaped into my mouth, but I spat it out quickly in the calmer waters. The next wave was a biggie. They went splat as they banged against my body. I spluttered, for my nose was not shut. I spent the whole time sailing in the calmer waters spitting out that horrible saltwater in my nostrils. Then the biggest, most gigantic wave ever. It did what I didn't expect. It just sort of fell down a little and let me pass over calmly. But I wasn't calm and confused for long. When the surfing instructor swung me around, I was only clear to one thing. I was very scared. All the other things in my mind were totally blurry, washed out, drained out by the strong waters. My board was so pushy as it pushed to the shore. The fin on the bottom stuck into the sand and held, and I gratefully got off, dusted off the sand, squeezed the water out of my hair, and joined the end of the line, needing no questions.
Then I did my second surf, which was just as terrifying as the first surf, except a little less terrifying because I already had done it once, and my confidence had risen-a little weeny teeny bit. Jane and the other kids who weren't allowed to swim were supposed to be gathered up into the shelter, but they insisted to stay and watch the surfers on the cold sand, so the teachers shrugged and left them there, and waddled back to the shelter to drink some coffee in a nice teacher mug. Ah. I dreamed of that as I waited patiently for my next surfing turn.
My third, fourth and fifth surfs weren't extraordinary, not really, but my sixth, my last surf was the one I will always remember. The surfing instructor lifted me right over the first wave. She did same for the second wave. But on the third wave, it seemed like the surfing instructor let go of my board, but I didn't get washed back to shore, so she definitely was holding the board. Then she turned me around, and called "Get ready for a big one, kid!!!" This gigantic angry wave with tossing white froth whirling at the top pushed on my pushy board, and I was literally flying through the water. Katie was lying with Jane on the sand, but as I came whooshing towards them, about to cut them through, they leaped up, grabbing their buttocks and running away from my cutting pushy board. That wave was gigantic, I remember saying to Jane later. I said "At first I thought the surfing instructor was crazy, letting me handle such big and angry as a wave as that!!!" Jane agreed "I thought she was crazy for nearly killing us. If we hadn't moved, your crazy board would have cut all of us, slashing us with that terrible force. I agreed that she was absolutely crazy. "The surfing instructor was walking to the shelter, half drunkenly from the dizzy waters, and drunkenly walked, staggering, into the teachers coffee room to drink some coffee, but Jane bet the surfing instructor was going to drink some whiskey.
Mr XXX sorted out all of the missing and extra clothes, and settled down crying Donna. Donna was still sobbing over the surfing fiasco, and now even Mr XXX was getting snappy and sharp. I changed into my sports uniform, tucked in my bag. We slapped on our hats, zipped up our swimming bags and walked to the warm bus. The bus was like heaven to us. The driver was complaining about the heater's heat, but we loved it. I sat with Jane, and we settled into a game of Fly Traps.
A long, great day at the beach. And I guess I might try surfing again, at my next opportunity, like today. Phew.
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