在学习、工作或生活中，大家都尝试过写作文吧，作文是从内部言语向外部言语的过渡，即从经过压缩的简要的、自己能明白的语言，向开展的、具有规范语法结构的、能为他人所理解的外部语言形式的转化。为了让您在写作文时更加简单方便，下面是小编为大家整理的爱英语作文4篇，仅供参考，大家一起来看看吧。
爱英语作文 篇1
A little boy invited his mother to attend his elementaryschool’sfirst teacher-parent conference. To the little boy sdismay, shesaid she would go. This would be the first time that hisclassmatesand teacher met his mother and he was embarrassed byherappearance. Although she was a beautiful woman, there was aseverescar that covered nearly the entire center side of her face.The boynever wanted to talk about why or how she got the scar.
At the conference, the people were impressed by the kindnessandnatural beauty of his mother despite the scar, but the littleboywas still embarrassed and hid himself from everyone. Hedid,however, get within earshot of a conversation between hismotherand his teacher, and heard them speaking.
How did you get the scar on your face? the teacher asked. The mother replied, When my son was a baby, he was in a roomthatcaught on fire . Everyone was too afraid to go in because thefirewas out of control, so I went in. As I was running toward hiscrib ,I saw a beam coming down and I placed myself over him tryingtoprotect him. I was knocked unconscious but fortunately, afiremancame in and saved both of us. She touched the burned sideof herface. This scar will be permanent 8, but to this day, Ihave neverregretted doing what I did.
At this point, the little boy came out running towards hismotherwith tears in his eyes. He hugged her and felt anoverwhelmingsense of the sacrifice that his mother had made forhim. He heldher hand tightly for the rest of the day.
有个小男孩邀请他的母亲去参加学校举办的第一次家长会，令他沮丧的是，妈妈竟然答应去。同学们和老师将是第一次见到妈妈，但是，妈妈相貌令他感到难堪。虽然母亲非常漂亮，但她整个右脸几乎被一块严重的伤疤覆盖了。小男孩从来不曾想问母亲伤疤的来历。
家长会上，小男孩妈妈善良和蔼以及天生丽质给人们留下了深刻的印象，没有人在意她脸上的那块伤疤。但是，小男孩却感到局促不安，他藏起来不与人打照面。尽管如此，他还是能听到妈妈和老师的谈话，能听见他们谈话的内容。
“您脸上的伤疤是怎么来的?”老师问道。
小男孩的妈妈答道：“儿子很小的时候，他的房间突然着火了，大家都不敢进去，因为火势失控了。我进去了。就在我跑向他的婴儿床时，我看到一根房梁就要倒下来，我扑到他的床上，想护住他。房梁把我砸晕了。幸运的是，消防员冲了进来，救了我们。”她摸着脸上的伤疤，说：“这块伤疤会永远留在脸上，但是直到今天，我从没为我做的事后悔过。”
听到这里，小男孩走了出来，满含热泪奔向妈妈，拥抱着她。母亲为自己作出的牺牲让他内心激动无比。那天后来，小男孩紧抓妈妈的手不曾松过。
爱英语作文 篇2
Before I was going to senior school, my father had never said a word to show his love to me, so that I thought he did not love me very much and sometimes I was upset about it. However, when I left home for senior school, he called me frequently and just asked me some simple questions like: how’s your study and life? When do you come home? or something like that. Gradually, I realize that he misses me although he would never say it out. So this is father’s love, not so obvious but definitely deep.
在我上高中之前，我父亲曾对我说了一句话来表达他对我的爱，所以我认为他不是很爱我，有时候我对此感到很苦恼。但是，当我离开家到高中的时候，他经常给我打电话，而且只是问我一些简单的问题，比如你的学习和生活怎么样了？什么时候回家？或者是一些类似的问题。渐渐地，我意识到尽管他从不会说出来，但是他很想念我。所以这就是父爱，不是很明显但是绝对很深。
爱英语作文 篇3
Occasionally, without warning, the drunken wreckage of my father would wash up on our doorstep, late at night, stammering, laughing, reeking of booze. Bang! Bang! Bang! Beating on the door, pleading to my mother to open it.
有时候，在毫无预兆的情况下，父亲会半夜醉醺醺地出现在我们家门口，结结巴巴地讲着酒话，时而大笑几声，满嘴酒气。砰！砰！砰！大力敲着门，恳求母亲为他开门。
He was on his way home from drinking, gambling, or some combination thereof, squandering money that we could have used and wasting time that we desperately needed.
他要么刚刚喝完酒回来，或赌了几把，要么两者皆有。他挥霍着我们本可以用于日常开销的血汗钱，还浪费了我们迫切需要的时间——和父亲在一起的时间。
It was the late-1970s. My parents were separated. My mother was now raising a gaggle of boys on her own. She was a newly minted schoolteacher. He was a juke-joint musician-turned-construction worker.
那是20世纪70年代末。我的父母离婚了。那时，母亲独自一人抚养着我们几个儿子。她是一位新上任的老师。父亲原本是一名乡间酒馆的驻场乐师，后来成了建筑工人。
He spouted off about what he planned to do for us, buy for us. In fact, he had no intention of doing anything. The one man who was supposed to be genetically programmed to love us, in fact, lacked the understanding of what it truly meant to love a child—or to hurt one.
他喋喋不休地说自己计划为我们做什么、买什么。事实上，他根本不打算做任何事情。一个在血缘关系上本应该爱我们的人，实际上并不懂得对孩子而言什么才是真正的爱，也不知道什么是伤害。
To him, this was a harmless game that kept us excited and begging. In fact, it was a cruel, corrosive deception that subtly and unfairly shifted the onus of his lack of emotional and financial investment from him to us. I lost faith in his words and in him. I wanted to stop caring, but I couldn’t.
对他来说，这是一种并无恶意的游戏，它让我们时而兴奋，时而觉得像在乞讨。但这实际上是一种侵蚀性的残酷欺骗，它巧妙却又不公平地将他对我们缺乏感情和物质投入这一责任转移到我们身上。我不相信他的话，对他完全不信任。我想不去在乎他，但我做不到。
Maybe it was his own complicated relationship to his father and his father’s family that rendered him cold. Maybe it was the pain and guilt associated with a life of misfortune. Who knows. Whatever it was, it stole him from us, and particularly from me.
也许是他与自己的父亲及其复杂的家庭关系，使他变得冷酷。也许是他生活的不幸所造成的痛苦和内疚使然。谁知道呢。不管是什么，反正它把他从我们这里偷走了，特别是从我这里。
While my brothers talked ad nauseam about breaking and fixing things, I spent many of my evenings reading and wondering. My favorite books were a set of encyclopedias given by my uncle. They allowed me to explore the world beyond my world, to travel without leaving, to dream dreams greater than my life would otherwise have supported.
当我的兄弟们没完没了地谈论怎样拆解破坏再重修东西时，我却在许许多多个晚上潜心阅读和思考。我最喜欢的书是我叔叔给的一套百科全书。这些书让我探索超越我成长天地以外的大世界，足不出户随心旅行，做那些远非我生活所能承载的美梦。
But losing myself in my own mind also meant that I was completely lost to my father.
但沉醉在自我意识里，也意味着在父亲眼中我变得完全陌生了。
He could relate to my brothers’ tactile approaches to the world but not to my cerebral one. Not understanding me, he simply ignored me—not just emotionally, but physically as well. Never once did he hug me, never once a pat on the back or a hand on the shoulder or a tousling of the hair.
他能明白我兄弟们那种打打闹闹闯世界的方式，却从不懂我心田开智慧的那一套。他不理解我，就干脆无视我——不仅情感关怀欠奉，对我根本视若无睹。他从来没有拥抱过我，从没拍过我的后背，也不会搭我的肩膀或拨弄一下我的头发。
My best memories of him were from his episodic attempts at engagement.
他留给我的最美好回忆是他时不时地尝试和我们接触。
During the longest of these episodes, once every month or two, he would come pick us up and drive us down the interstate to Trucker’s Paradise, a seedy, smoke-filled, truck stop with gas pumps, a convenience store, a small dining area and a game room through a door in the back.
这些插曲中持续时间最长的是，每隔一两个月，他会来接我们，沿着州际公路驱车把我们带到卡车司机乐园。这是一个破烂、烟雾缭绕的载货汽车停车场，有加油站、一家便利店、一个小小的用餐区，还有穿过背后一扇门即可到达的一间游戏室。
My dad gave each of us a handful of quarters, and we played until they were gone. He sat up front in the dining area, drinking coffee and being particular about the restaurant’s measly offerings.
父亲给我们每个人一把硬币，我们一直玩到输光硬币才停下来。他就坐在用餐区前面，一边喝咖啡，一边挑剔着餐厅里食物的份量太少。
I loved these days. To me, Trucker’s Paradise was paradise. The quarters and the games were fun but easily forgotten. It was the presence of my father that was most treasured. But, of course, these trips were short-lived. And so it was. Every so often he would make some sort of effort, but every time it wouldn’t last.
我喜欢那些日子。对我来说，卡车司机乐园的确是一个天堂。硬币和游戏充满了乐趣，只是容易被遗忘。最宝贵的是父亲能来。但是，当然了，好景不长。事实的确如此。时而，他会努力挤出时间，但每次都不会持续很长时间。
It wasn’t until I was much older that I would find something that I would be able to cling to as evidence of my father’s love.
直到年龄渐长，我才找到一些可以体现其父爱的证据。
When the Commodore 64 personal computer debuted, I convinced myself that I had to have it even though its price was out of my mother’s range. So I decided to earn the money myself. I mowed every yard I could find that summer for a few dollars each, yet it still wasn’t enough. So my dad agreed to help me raise the rest of the money by driving me to one of the watermelon farms south of town, loading up his truck with wholesale melons and driving me around to sell them.
当Commodore 64型个人电脑上市时，我下定决心要买一台，即使它的价格超出了我母亲的支付能力。于是我决定自己赚钱。那年夏天，我给能找到的每一个庭院割草，每家赚几美元，但钱还是不够。于是父亲答应帮我去筹集剩下的钱。他驱车带我去镇上南面的一家西瓜农场，把批发买来的西瓜装上卡车，带着我去附近的地方把西瓜卖出去。
He came for me before daybreak. We made small talk, but it didn’t matter. The fact that he was talking to me was all that mattered. I was a teenager by then, but this was the first time that I had ever spent time alone with him. He laughed and repeatedly introduced me as “my boy,” a phrase he relayed with a palpable sense of pride. It was one of the best days of my life.
天亮前，他来接我。我们闲聊了一会儿，但这不是重点。重要的是他和我聊天。那时我已是一个青少年，但那却是我第一次与他独处。他笑着，并多次在向别人介绍 “这是我的儿子，”这样四个字，被他用一种明显的自豪语气传达着。那是我生命中最美好的时光。
Although he had never told me that he loved me, I would cling to that day as the greatest evidence of that fact. He had never intended me any wrong. He just didn’t know how to love me right. He wasn’t a mean man.
虽然他从未说过他爱我，但我会认定，那天是他爱我这一事实成立的最大证据。他从没想过对我造成任何伤害。他只是不知道用什么方式来爱我。他并不是一个坏心肠的人。
So I took these random episodes and clung to them like a thing most precious, squirreling them away for the long stretches of coldness when a warm memory would prove most useful.
所以我拾起这些偶然出现的片段，并坚持认为它们是最珍贵的东西。我将它们珍藏着，在冷漠的记忆长河中，这些温暖的片段最为窝心。
It just goes to show that no matter how estranged the father, no matter how deep the damage, no matter how shattered the bond, there is still time, still space, still a need for even the smallest bit of evidence of a father’s love.
我的经历只是表明：不管父亲曾经与你如何疏远，无论他对你造成了多深的伤害，无论你们之间的纽带是如何破裂的，你仍有时间、有空间，并且有必要去找寻哪怕是能证明父爱的最小的证据。
“My boy.”
（正如）“我的儿子。”
A Parable of a Child
一个孩子的寓言
by Steve Goodier
父母说：“我有一个孩子，他/她将来会成为一名……”
孩子说：“我是你们的`孩子，我将来会成为一名……”
省略号的内容由你决定！教育与经验之间是有区别的。教育就是从阅读文字所得到的，而经验是从不阅读而得到的。看一个故事，你就会明白“伟大的学习来自于教育和经验的结合”。
一名青年教师梦见天使出现在他面前，对他说：“你将会有一个孩子，他/她将来会成为一名世界领袖。你得让她意识到自己的智慧，增长自信心，开发她果断不失细腻，虚心而又坚韧的性格特质，你会如何为她做准备呢？”
梦醒时，青年教师一身冷汗。他从没经历过这种事情。照梦中所说的，他现在或将来的学生之中的任何一个人都有可能有成为他梦中听到的那个人物。他准备好了要去帮助他们实现每一个志向吗？他默默想：“既然知道了某一个学生会成为那个人物，那么我的教学方式该怎么改变一下呢？”一步一步地，他已经开始暗自筹划了。
这名学生不仅需要有经历，而且需要有人指导。他的教学方式改变了。对他而言，每一个走过他教室的年轻人都有可能成为未来的世界领袖。他看这些学生时，不是看他们曾经是什么样子，而是看他们将来可能成为什么样子。他以一种平和的心态期盼学生发挥最大的潜力。他在教育学生时，仿佛世界的未来完全掌握在他的教导中。
多年以后，他所认识的一名女子成为举世瞩目的人物。这时他才悟出，她就是那晚梦中天使所说的那个女孩。只是，她不是他的学生，而是他的女儿。在女儿一生所遇到的老师之中，他是最棒的。
我听过这样一句话：“孩子是我们给自己无法预见的某个时间、某个地点所发送出去的活信息。”可这并不仅仅是一则有关一个无名教师的寓言，而是有关你我的寓言——不论我们是为人父母，还是为人师表。而这个故事——我们的故事，其实是这样开始的：
“你将有一个孩子，他/她将来会成为一名……”你来填完这个句子吧，如果不填“世界领袖”，那么“绝世好爸”也行；再要不“优秀教师”？“妙手神医”？“不按常理出牌的问题克星”？“鼓舞人心的艺术家”？或是“慷慨无私的慈善家”？
你会在何地、如何遇见这个孩子，那是一个谜。可是，你要相信，一个孩子的将来很有可能就取决于你给他/她所造成的影响；也要相信，孩子会出人头地的。对你来说，任何孩子都是不平凡的，你也因此脱胎换骨。
A young school teacher had a dream that an angel appeared to him and said, “You will be given a child who will grow up to become a world leader. How will you prepare her so that she will realize her intelligence, grow in confidence, develop both her assertiveness and sensitivity, be open-minded, yet strong in character？”
The young teacher awoke in a cold sweat. It had never occurred to him before——any ONE of his present or future students could be the person described in his dream. Was he preparing them to rise to ANY POSITION to which they may aspire？ He thought, “How might my teaching change if I KNEW that one of my students were this person？” He gradually began to formulate a plan in his mind.
This student would need experience as well as instruction. His teaching changed. Every young person who walked through his classroom became, for him, a future world leader. He saw each one, not as they were, but as they could be. He expected the best from his students, yet tempered it with compassion. He taught each one as if the future of the world depended on his instruction.
After many years, a woman he knew rose to a position of world prominence. He realized that she must surely have been the girl described in his dream. Only she was not one of his students, but rather his daughter. For of all the various teachers in her life, her father was the best.
I’ve heard it said that “Children are living messages we send to a time and place we will never see.” But this isn’t simply a parable about an unnamed school teacher. It is a parable about you and me——whether or not we are parents or even teachers. And the story, OUR story, actually begins like this:
“You will be given a child who will grow up to become…” You finish the sentence. If not a world leader, then a superb father？ An excellent teacher？ A gifted healer？ An innovative problem solver？ An inspiring artist？ A generous philanthropist？
Where and how you will encounter this child is a mystery. But believe that one child’s future may depend upon influence only you can provide, and something remarkable will happen. For no young person will ever be ordinary to you again. And you will never be the same.
爱英语作文 篇4
I used to write a composition is about a mother's love, only just realized a mother's love. When I read a story about a mother's love, will be great. But whenever I see a father, I feel very hypocritical. But when I experience, to know the greatness of a father.
My father looks mediocre, sometimes the mood is not good he will also have the feeling of disgust. He had no talent, even not finished elementary school, he, with a clueless look on his face when I read English sometimes I just in my heart secretly scorn.
In my eyes he is a "silly".
One night, eight more minutes, my mother said to me: "it's time for bed, so late. Again the don't come tomorrow." I have to hang down his head, a face of injustice. I laid the quilt, I dull looking at the white ceiling. Secretly wonder that morning new English song "trouble is a friend", at that moment, a stamped on the ground of the voice is getting closer and closer to me, I began to pretend to sleep, it is my dad, he came to the house, he stopped footsteps, even small panting breath, I can feel he has been tightly staring at me. He stopped for several minutes, and then quietly left.
At this point, I unknowingly shed tears, don't know what I to.
I've seen people describing a father "the father loves the mountain". I don't know the father. In fact, father is really serious, he just couldn't express. He never said 1: "I love you, baby." Such disgusting words. When what I want, he will try to meet me.
My father in my life, always will be a giver.
In that day, I read - deep a father.
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