2015届高三英语10月月考试题（肃南一中带答案）

注意事项：

1. 本卷分第I卷(选择题)和第II卷两部分，答题前，考生务必用0.5毫米黑色签字笔将自己的姓名、考号填写在答题卡和试卷规定的位置。

2. 本卷满分120分。考试用时100分钟。

3. 答案必须写在答题卡上各题目指定区域内相应的位置，试卷上答题无效。

第I卷

第一部分：阅读理解

第一节(共15小题;每小题2分，满分30分)

阅读下列短文，从每题所给的四个选项(A、B、C和D)中，选出最佳选项。

A

When your parents advise you to “get an education” in order to raise your income, they tell you only half the truth. What they really mean is to get just enough education to provide manpower(人力资源) for your society, but not so much that you prove an embarrassment to your society.

Get a high school diploma, at least. Without that, you will be occupationally dead unless your name happens to be George Bernard Shaw or Thomas Alva Edison, and you can successfully dropout in grade school.

Get a college degree, if possible. With a B. A., you are on the launching pad. But now you have to start to put on the brakes. If you go for a master’s degree, make sure it is an M.B.A., and the famous law of diminishing(逐渐减少的) returns begins to take effect.

Do you know, for instance, that long-haul truck drivers earn more per year than full professors? Yes, the average salary for those truckers was $24000 while the full professors managed to earn just $23030.

A doctorate is the highest degree you can get. Except for a few specialized fields such as physics or chemistry where the degree can quickly be turned to industrial or commercial purposes, if you pursue such a degree in any other field, you will face a future which is not bright. There are more doctors unemployed or underemployed in this country than any other part of the world.

If you become a doctor in English or history or anthropology or political science or languages or—worst of all—in philosophy, you run the risk of becoming overeducated for our national demands. Not for our needs, mind you, but for our demands.

Thousands of doctors are selling shoes, driving cars, waiting on table, and endlessly filling out applications month after month. They may also take a job in some high school or backwater(闭塞) college that pays much less than the doorkeeper earns.

You can equate the level of income with the level of education only so far. Far enough, that is, to make you useful to the gross national product, but not so far that nobody can turn much of a profit on you.

1. According to the writer, what the society expects of education is to turn out people who ______.

A. will not be a disgrace to society

B. will become loyal citizens

C. can take care of themselves

D. can meet the nation’s demand as a source of manpower

2. Many doctors are out of job because ______.

A. they are improperly educated

B. they are of little commercial value to their society

C. there are fewer jobs in high schools

D. they prefer easier jobs that make more money

3. Which of the following is NOT true?

A. Bernard Shaw didn’t finish high school, nor did Edison.

B. One must think carefully before pursuing a master’s degree.

C. The higher your education level, the more money you will earn.

D. If you are too well-educated, you’ll be overeducated for society’s demands.

4. The writer sees education as ______.

A. a means of providing job security and financial security and a means of meeting a country’s demands for technical workers

B. a way to broaden one’s horizons

C. more important than finding a job

D. an opportunity that everyone should have

B

My heart sank when the man at the immigration counter gestured to the back room. I was born and raised in America, and this was Miami, where I live, but they weren’t quite ready to let me in yet.

“Please wait in here, Ms. Abujaber,” the immigration officer said. My husband, with his very American last name, accompanied me. He was getting used to this. The same thing had happened recently in Canada when I’d flown to Montreal to speak at a book event. That time they held me for 45 minutes. Today we were returning from a literary festival in Jamaica, and I was shocked that I was being sent “in back” once again.

The officer behind the counter called me up and said, “Miss, your name looks like the name of someone who’s on our wanted list. We’re going to have to check you out with Washington.”

“How long will it take?”

“Hard to say…a few minutes,” he said, “We’ll call you when we’re ready for you.” After an hour, Washington still hadn’t decided anything about me.

“Isn’t this computerized?” I asked at the counter, “Can’t you just look me up?”

“Just a few more minutes,” they assured me.

After an hour and a half, I pulled my cell phone out to call the friends I was supposed to meet that evening. An officer rushed over. “No phones!” he said, “For all we know you could be calling a terrorist cell and giving them information.”

“I’m just a university professor,” I said. My voice came out in a squeak.

“Of course you are. And we take people like you out of here in leg irons every day.”

I put my phone away.

My husband and I were getting hungry and tired. Whole families had been brought into the waiting room, and the place was packed with excitable children, exhausted parents, and even a flight attendant.

I wanted to scream, to jump on a chair and shout: “I’m an American citizen; a novelist; I probably teach English literature to your children.”

After two hours in detention (扣押), I was approached by one of the officers. “You’re free to go,” he said. No explanation or apologies. For a moment, neither of us moved. We were still in shock. Then we leaped to our feet.

“Oh, one more thing,” he handed me a tattered photocopy with an address on it, “If you aren’t happy with your treatment, you can write to this agency.”

“Will they respond?” I asked.

“I don’t know—I don’t know of anyone who’s ever written to them before.” Then he added,” By the way, this will probably keep happening each time you travel internationally.”

“What can I do to keep it from happening again?”

He smiled the empty smile we’d seen all day, “Absolutely nothing.”

After telling several friends about our ordeal, probably the most frequent advice I’ve heard in response is to change my name. Twenty years ago, my own graduate school writing professor advised me to write under a pen name so that publishers wouldn’t stick me in what he called “the ethnic ghetto”—a separate, secondary shelf in the bookstore. But a name is an integral part of anyone’s personal and professional identity—just like the town you’re born in and the place where you’re raised.

Like my father, I’ll keep the name, but my airport experience has given me a whole new perspective on what diversity and tolerance are supposed to mean. I had no idea that being an American would ever be this hard.

5. The author was held at the airport because ______.

A. she and her husband returned from Jamaica

B. her name was similar to a terrorist’s

C. she had been held in Montreal

D. she had spoken at a book event

6. She was not allowed to call her friends because ______.

A. her identity hadn’t been confirmed yet

B. she had been held for only one hour and a half

C. there were other families in the waiting room

D. she couldn’t use her own cell phone

7. We learn from the passage that the author would ______ to prevent similar experience from happening again.

A. write to the agency           B. change her name

C. avoid traveling abroad        D. do nothing

8. Her experiences indicate that there still exists ______ in the US.