It's not easy to be an astronaut's son , Everybody expetcts you to be special or perfect .
发布网友
发布时间：2022-04-30 01:53
共4个回答
热心网友
时间：2023-10-11 20:58
热心网友
时间：2023-10-11 20:59
热心网友
时间：2023-10-11 21:00
I often wonder how my father ever had a son like me. I mean he's so special and so good at everything he does. In high school he was captain of the football team, class president, and editor of the school newspaper.
Well, to tell you the truth,I do have a little talent that nobody knows about. I write poems and stories and keep them in a red notebook in my bottom desk drawer.
Nowadays I dream about being a famous writer, but I used to dream about doing something spectacular to impress my father and make him proud of me-something like rescuing a child from a burning building or chasing a robber away from an old lady.
I was daydreaming in school one morning ( which I do often). I was daydreaming about being some kind of hero, like discovering an instant cure for cancer or a shot for mental illness, when I heard my English teacher announce a Father's Day essay contest for the whole school.
"I hope we have a winner right here in my English class,
she said. "The PTA has donated three cash prizes- one hundred dollars for first prize, fifty dollars for second, and twenty-five dollars for third prize. "
After school I walked home, thinking about the essay I would write. My father is an astronaut, I would start out. No, I decided. I wouldn't do that. The whole country and maybe even the whole world saw my father as an astronaut , but that wasn't the way I saw him.
When Igot home, I kissed my mom quickly. Then I went upstairs to my room and sat down with a pen and a pad of paper. I started to think about what I would write.
How did I see my father. Hmm.
I saw him sitting with me in the dark23 when I was a little kid and had a nightmare.
I saw him teaching me how to use a bat and how to throw a baseball.
I remembered how he hugged me for hours when my dog Spotty was hit and killed by a car.
And I remembered how he surprised me with a new puppy at my eighth birthday party. When I started to cry, he told all the kids that I had a bad allergy. "David's allergy bothers him a lot this time of year," Dad said.
And I remembered how he sat and tried to explain death to me when Grandpa Bob died.
These were the things I was going to write about my dad. To me, he wasn't just a world-famous astronaut. He was my dad.
I wrote about all these memories and put them in my essay. I handed it in the next day and was surprised to find out that the winning essays would be read in the auditorium on Thursday night. A11 the parents and students were invited.
My parents and I went to school Thursday night. One of our neighbours said, "I bet you'll win the contest, David. I bet you wrote what it's like to be the son of an astronaut, and you're the only one in town who could write about that. "
My dad looked at me, and I shrugged. I hadn't sliown him the essay, and now I almost hoped Lwouldn't win. I didn't want; to win just because my father was an astronaut.
When third prize was announced and it wasn't me, I was relieved and disappointed at the same time, Ellen Gordon won third prize, and she read her essay. Ellen. is adopted, and she wrote a.bout her "better than real" father. When she got to the end,I heard people in the audience sniffing and blowing their noses. My mother sniffed, and my father cleared his throat.
The second-prize winner was announced next. It was me.
I went up to the stage, my knees shaking. I read my essay and wondered if my voice was shaking, too. It was scary standing up in front of all those people. I called my essay "My Father's Son. " I watched my parents as I read. When I finished reading, the audience applauded. I saw my father blowing his nose. Tears were running down my mother's face. I went back
to my seat.
"I see you have an allergy , too , Dad , " I tried to joke.
Dad nodded, cleared his throat, and put his hand on my shoulder. "Son, this is the proudest moment of my life," he said.
It was the proudest moment of my life, too. Maybe I'll never be a great hero or win a Nobel Prize, but just then, it was enough just to be my father's son.
翻译：
作个宇航员的儿子真难。每个人都期望你与众不同，完美无缺。可我只是个普通的11岁少年，一个普通的学生，说到打篮球、玩橄榄球、踢足球、打棒球等我也很一般。
我经常想，爸爸怎么会有我这样一个儿子？他是那样出众，做一切事情都十分内行。在高中，他是橄榄球队的队长，班长，还是学报编辑。
说实话，我确实也有一点儿无人知道的才能———我写诗，写短篇小说。我把它们写在红色笔记本上，放在书桌下层的抽屉中。
我一直梦想做点儿惊人的事，诸如从起火的房子里救出一个小孩，或者把抢老太太钱的强盗赶走，给爸爸留下印象，让他为我感到骄傲。而现在，我又梦想成为一个作家。
一天上午，我又在上课时白日做梦（我经常如此）。我正梦想成为某种英雄，比如找到速效治癌药，或者治疗精神病的药。这时，听到英语老师宣布，学校将开展父亲节作文比赛。
“我希望在我的英语班里有一个优胜者，”她说，“家长与教师协会捐款设了三种现金奖，一等奖100美元，二等奖50美元，三等奖25美元。”
放学后，我想着要写的作文往家走。“我父亲是个宇航员”，我将这样起头，不，我决定不写这个。全国甚至可能全世界都把我父亲看作一个宇航员，但我看到的他不是那样。
到家后，我很快吻了妈妈，然后上楼到我的房间，拿着一支笔和一叠纸坐下，开始考虑我将写什么。
我看见的父亲是怎样的呢？
我看见他在黑暗中坐在我身旁———当我是个小孩而且做了噩梦时；
我看见他教我怎样使用橄榄球棒和怎样扔球；
我记得，当我的狗被汽车撞死时，他怎样抱着我几个小时；
我还记得，在我8岁生日晚会上，他怎样用另一条小狗使我大吃一惊；我哭的时候，他告诉所有孩子，我有很厉害的过敏症。“每年这个时候，戴维的过敏症把他折磨得很难受。”父亲说。
我还记得，祖父鲍勃死时，他怎样坐着，试图对我解释“死”是怎么回事。
关于父亲，我要写的是这些事情。对我来说，他不只是个世界闻名的宇航员，他是我的父亲。
我将所有这些记忆写入作文，第二天交了上去。得知星期四晚上将在礼堂里宣读获奖作文，所有家长和学生都被邀请，我很惊讶。
星期四晚上，我和父母亲去学校。我们的一个邻居说：“我敢说，你将获胜，戴维。我相信你写的像一个宇航员的儿子，你是城里惟一能写这个的人。”
我父亲看看我。我耸耸肩，我未曾给他看过这篇作文，而且现在我几乎希望自己不会获胜。我不愿意只是由于父亲是个宇航员而获胜。
宣布了三等奖，不是我。我既松了口气，又感到失望。埃伦·戈顿获得三等奖，朗读了她的作文，埃伦·戈顿是个养女，她写的是“比生父还好的”爸爸。她读完时，我听到听众发出吸气和擤鼻涕的声音。我母亲吸着气，我父亲清清喉咙。
接着宣布二等奖，是我。
我走上台，腿在发抖，读着作文，不知是否自己的声音也在颤抖。站在所有那些人前面使我害怕。我给自己的作文起的题目是《我父亲的儿子》。我边读边看父母亲。读完后，听众们鼓起掌来。我看见父亲正擤着鼻涕，妈妈的脸上满是泪水。
我走回自己的座位。
“我看见你也得了过敏症，爸爸。”我试图开玩笑。
父亲点点头，清清喉咙，把手搭在我的肩上。“儿子，这是我一生中最值得骄傲的时刻。”
这是你给的开头的文章和翻译 希望有帮助
热心网友
时间：2023-10-11 21:01
