英语高中作文

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关于英语高中作文4篇

　　在生活、工作和学习中，大家都尝试过写作文吧，作文可分为小学作文、中学作文、大学作文（论文）。相信写作文是一个让许多人都头痛的问题，下面是小编收集整理的英语高中作文4篇，希望能够帮助到大家。

关于英语高中作文4篇

英语高中作文篇1

　　It has been such a long time for Chinese people to carry out the family plan, so most families only have one child. But now the government has loosen the one-child policy, more and more families have the right to raise the second child. In my opinion, having the second child has many advantages.

　　中国人实行计划生育已经有很长一段时间了，因此大部分家庭只有一个孩子。但是如今政府放松了一胎政策，越来越多的家庭有权利养育第二个孩子。在我看来，拥有第二个孩子很多好处。

　　First, it is good for the only child to have a sister or brother, so that the child can learn to share things. The parents are easily to focus their all attention to the only child, they want to give all the things he wants. But in the long run, they don’t realize they have spoiled their child to be an emperor. Selfishness can be found on the only child, if he has a partner, then he will realize the need to share things with others. What’s more, the parents can distract their attention, so they won’t spoil their kids.

　　第一，对于独生子女来说，有个兄弟姐妹是好的，这样孩子就能学会分享东西。父母很容易会把他们的注意力集中在独生子女身上，他们想要给予孩子所要的一切。但是长期下去，他们没有意识到已经把孩子宠溺成了一个皇帝。独生子女很容易自私，如何他有一个伙伴，就会和别人分享东西的需要。而且，父母也会分散他们的`注意力，这样就不会宠溺孩子。

　　Second, since in Chinese tradition the old people would not like to spend their later life in the nursing house, two children can share the burden of taking care of the parents and support them when they grow old. Those only children would be exhausted then while they have their own family to take care.

　　第二，由于在中国的传统里老年人们不愿意在养老院安度晚年，两个孩子也能分担一下照顾和赡养年老父母的压力。而那些独生子女们还要照顾自己的家庭，会力不从心。

　　Third, the more kids in the family, the happier the family will be. Watching the children play and fight is a kind of fun for the parents. The lively phenomenon makes people feel happy.

　　第三，家中越多的孩子，家庭就会更加的幸福。看着孩子们玩耍和吵架，对父母来说也是一种乐趣。热闹的环境让人感到开心。

英语高中作文篇2

　　there were three of them. there were four of us, and april lay on the campsite and on the river, a miture of dawn at a damp etreme and the sun in the leaves at cajole. this was deer lodge on the pine river in ossipee, new hampshire, though the lodge was naught but a foundation remnant in the earth. brother bentleys father, oren, had found this place sometime after the first world war, a foreign affair that had seriously done him no good but he found solitude abounding here. now we were here, post world war ii, post korean war, vietnam war on the brink. so much learned, so much yet to learn.

　　peace then was everywhere about us, in the riot of young leaves, in the spree of bird confusion and chatter, in the struggle of pre-dawn animals for the start of a new day, a cooper hawk that had smashed down through trees for a squealing rabbit, yap of a fo at a youngster, a skunk at rooting.

　　we had pitched camp in the near darkness, ed leblanc, brother bentley, walter ruszkowski, myself. a dozen or more years we had been here, and seen no one. now, into our campsite deep in the forest, so deep that at times we had to rebuild sections of narrow road (more a loggers path) flushed out by earlier rains, deep enough where we thought wed again have no traffic, came a growling engine, an old solid body van, a chevy, the kind i had driven for frankie pike and the lobster pound in lynn delivering lobsters throughout the merrimack valley. it had pre-ww ii high fenders, a faded black paint on a body youd swear had been hammered out of corrugated steel, and an engine that made sounds too angry and too early for the start of day. two elderly men, we supposed in their seventies, sat the front seat; felt hats at the slouch and decorated with an assortment of tied flies like a miniature bandoleer of ammunition on the band. they could have been conscripts for emilano zappata, so loaded their hats and their vests as they climbed out of the truck.

　　"mornin, been yet?" one of them said as he pulled his boots up from the folds at his knees, the tops of them as wide as a big mouth bass coming up from the bottom for a frog sitting on a lily pad. his hands were large, the fingers long and i could picture them in a shop barn working a primal plane across the face of a maple board. custom-made, old elegance, those hands said.

　　< 2 >

　　"barely had coffee," ed leblanc said, the most vocal of the four of us, quickest at friendship, at shaking hands. "weve got a whole pot almost. have what you want." the pot was pointed out sitting on a hunk of grill across the stones of our fire, flames licking lightly at its sides. the pot appeared as if it had been at war, a number of dents scarred it, the handle had evidently been replaced, and if not adjusted against a small rock it would have fallen over for sure. once, a half-hour on the road heading north, noting it missing, wed gone back to get it. when we fished the pine river, coffee was the glue, the morning glue, the late evening glue, even though wed often unearth our beer from a natural cooler in early evening. coffee, camp coffee, has a ritual. it is thick, it is dark, it is potboiled over a squaw-pine fire, it is strong, it is enough to wake the demon in you, stoke last evenings cheese and pepperoni. first man up makes the fire, second man the coffee; but into that pot has to go fresh eggshells to hold the grounds down, give coffee a taste of history, a sense of place. that means at least one egg be cracked open for its shells, usually in the shadows and glimmers of false dawn. i suspect thats where "scrambled eggs" originated, from some camp like ours, settlers rushing west, lumberjacks hungry, hoboes lobbying for breakfast. so, camp coffee has made its way into poems, gatherings, memories, a time and thing not letting go, not being manhandled, not being cast aside.

　　"youre early enough for eggs and bacon if you need a start." eddie added, his invitation tossed kindly into the morning air, his smile a match for morning sun, a man of welcomes. "we have hot cakes, kulbassa, home fries, if you want." we have the food of kings if you really want to know. there were nights we sat at his kitchen table at 101 main street, saugus, massachusetts planning the trip, planning each meal, planning the campsite. some menus were founded on a case of beer, a late night, a curse or two on the ride to work when day started.

　　"been there aready," the other man said, his weaponry also noted by us, a little more orderly in its presentation, including an old boy scout sash across his chest, the galay of flies in supreme positioning. they were old yankees, in the face and frame the pair of them undoubtedly brothers, staunch, written into early routines, probably had been up at three oclock to get here at this hour. they were taller than we were, no fat on their frames, wide-shouldered, big-handed, barely coming out of their reserve, but fishermen. that fact alone would win any of us over. obviously, theyd been around, a heft of time already accrued.

　　< 3 >

　　then the pounding came, from inside the truck, as if a tire iron was beating at the sides of the vehicle. it was not a timid banging, not a minor signal. bang! bang! it came, and bang! again. and the voice of authority from some place in space, some regal spot in the universe. "im not sitting here the livelong day whilst you boys gab away." a toothless meshing came in his words, like walter brennan at work in the jail in rio bravo or some such movie.

　　"comin, pa," one of them said, the most orderly one, the one with the old scout sash riding him like a bandoleer.

　　they pulled open the back doors of the van, swung them wide, to show his venerable self, ageless, white-bearded, felt hat too loaded with an arsenal of flies, sitting on a white wicker rocker with a rope holding him to a piece of vertical angle iron, the crude kind that could have been on early subways or trolley cars. across his lap he held three delicate fly rods, old as him, thin, bamboo in color, probably too slight for a lakes three-pounder. but on the pine river, upstream or downstream, under alders choking some parts of the rivers flow, at a significant pool where side streams merge and phantom trout hang out their eternal promise, most elegant, fingertip elegant.

　　"oh, boy," eddie said at an aside, "theres the boss man, and look at those tools." admiration leaked from his voice.

　　rods were taken from the caring hands, the rope untied, and his venerable self, white wicker rocker and all, was lifted from the truck and set by our campfire. i was willing to bet that my sister pat, the dealer in antiques, would scoop up that rocker if given the slightest chance. the old one looked about the campsite, noted clothes drying from a previous days rain, order of equipment and supplies aligned the way we always kept them, the canvas of our tent taut and true in its epanse, our fishing rods off the ground and placed atop the flyleaf so as not to tempt raccoons with smelly cork handles, no garbage in sight. he nodded.

　　we had passed muster.

　　"you the ones leave it cleaner than you find it ever year. we knowed sunthin bout you. never disturbed you afore. but we share the good spots." he looked closely at brother bentley, nodded a kind of recognition. "your daddy ever fish here, son?"

　　< 4 >

　　brother must have passed through the years in a hurry, remembering his father bringing him here as a boy. "a ways back," brother said in his clipped north saugus fashion, outlander, specific, no waste in his words. old oren bentley, it had been told us, had walked five miles through the unknown woods off route 16 as a boy and had come across the campsite, the remnants of an old lodge, and a great curve in the pine river so that a miles walk in either direction gave you three miles of stream to fish, upstream or downstream. paradise up north.

　　his venerable self nodded again, a man of signals, then said, "knowed him way back some. met him at the iron bridge. we passed a few times." instantly we could see the story. a whole history of encounter was in his words; it marched right through us the way knowledge does, as well as legend. he pointed at the coffeepot. "the boysll be off, but my days down there get cut up some. ill sit a while and take some of thet." he said thet too pronounced, too dramatic, and it was a short time before i knew why.

　　the white wicker rocker went into a slow and deliberate motion, his head nodded again. he spoke to his sons. "you boys be back no moren two-three hours so these fellers can do their things too, and keep the place tidied up."

　　the most orderly son said, "sure, pa. two-three hours." the two elderly sons left the campsite and walked down the path to the banks of the pine river, their boots swishing at thigh line, the most elegant rods pointing the way through scattered limbs, eperience on the move. trout beware, we thought.

　　"we been carpenters fever," he said, the clip still in his words. "those boys a mine been some good at it too." his head cocked, he seemed to listen for their departure, the leaves and branches quiet, the murmur of the stream a tinkling idyllic music rising up the banking. old venerable himself moved the wicker rocker forward and back, a small timing taking place. he was hearing things we had not heard yet, the whole symphony all around us. eddie looked at me and nodded his own nod. it said, "im paying attention and i know you are. this is our one encounter with a man who has fished for years the river we love, that we come to twice a year, in may with the mayflies, in june with the black flies." the gift and the scourge, wed often remember, having been both scarred and sewn by it.

　　< 5 >

　　brother was still at memory, we could tell. silence we thought was heavy about us, but there was so much going on. a bird talked to us from a high limb. a fo called to her young. we were on the pine river once again, nearly a hundred miles from home, in paradise.

　　"names roger treadwell. boys are nathan and truett." the introductions had been accounted for.

　　old venerable roger treadwell, carpenter, fly fisherman, rocker, leaned forward and said, "you boys wouldnt have a couple spare beers, would ya?"

　　now thats the way to start the day on the pine river.

英语高中作文篇3

　　【内容提示】

　　假定你的名字叫emily，你有一位同学，名叫paula。你听说她母亲去世的消息后为她深感悲痛。你写一封吊唁信表示慰问。要点如下：

　　①消息传来，十分震惊。

　　②其母的去世对她和她妹妹是极大损失。

　　③其母是位为社区做好事、广交朋友的人。此时，肯定有许多人为其吊唁。

　　④如有什么可帮忙的你可尽自己的努力。

　　【作文示范】

　　on the death of one＇s mother

　　dec. 2, 199___

　　dear paula,

　　i have just this morning learned of the sudden death of your mother. i cannot tell you how shocked i am at this sad news. i know what it meant to you and your sister, and i send you both my sympathy① and condolence②.

　　i am sure that many hearts must be heavy with sorrow today, for i never knew anyone who has done so many good deeds for the community③ and who has had such a host④ of friends as your mother. she will be keenly missed by everyone who knew her.

　　is there any way i can help, paula? you know i would gladly do anything i can for you.

　　with love,

　　emily

　　【词语解释】

　　①sympathy [＇simp+ii] n．同情（心）

　　②condolence [k+n＇d+ul+ns] n. 吊慰；慰问

　　③community [k+＇mju:niti] n．社区（全体居民）

　　④host [h+ust] n．许多；一大群

　　【写法指要】

　　吊唁信（letters of condolence）是写给家中有人丧亡的亲友以表慰问的信函。写这类信要求态度认真、感情真挚。信文的措辞要严谨，不能滥用辞藻，切忌写“he /she was to young to die!”等语句，也不宜提及故去人生命或死亡的细节，以免触及亲人的伤感。

　　二、请柬（invitation card）

　　请柬，也称请帖，是用于隆重社交活动的.信件或帖子。一般都是印刷的，偶尔也手写。请柬分为非正式的和正式的两种。

　　1．非正式请柬一般用于邀请亲戚、朋友等关系较亲密的人出席某种社交场合等。信文像普通书信一样用第一人称，称呼较自由，格式和用语较为随便。例如下面邀请参加生日聚会的请柬：

　　nov. 2, 1999

　　dear wang tao,

　　we are having a birthday party at 7:00 p.m. net saturday （nov. 8）at my home and would be delighted if you would join us. we are looking forward to seeing you.

　　yours,

　　li ming

　　它相当于如下汉语请柬：

　　王涛：

　　我们定于下周六（11月8日）下午七时在我家举行生日晚会。如果你能参加，我们将十分高兴。期盼你的到来。

　　李明

　　1999．11．2．

　　2．正式请柬和回帖则不像普通书信那样一行接一行的书写，而是按意群分行，每行都居中排列印刷。格式和用语较为固定。邀请人和被邀请人都用第三人称，而且双方的名字都要写全名。请柬内容包括邀请的原因、活动地点和时间。如果要求被邀请者答复，可注明r．s．v．p．（即法文“请答复”respondes sil vous plait的缩写），有时也可用英文“please reply”。如对着装有要求，也要注明。正式请柬应在10天或两周前发出。例如下面一则邀请参加宴会的请柬：

　　这一请柬相当于如下汉语请柬：

　　收到请柬后应立即答复，表示接受或拒绝，以示礼貌。回帖的措词应严格遵照请柬的用词来写，格式与请柬相同。

英语高中作文篇4

　　Recently, to improve the students’ listening and speakingabilities, the English teacher in Class 3 conducted a survey amongthe whole class on whether they should have a three-minute speechin English at the beginning of a period. According to the survey,65% of the students firmly support the idea, for they think thismethod will be helpful to their English learning and it is a goodchance for them to practise their listening ability as well asspeaking ability. However, 35% of the students are strongly againstit, saying that it costs the limited time in class. What’s worse,if they can not make sense of the speeches, they will loseconfidence in learning English. As for me, I think it is a goodidea to have a three minutes’ speech at the beginning of a periodbecause I believe practice makes perfect.

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