I. Please read the text after the speaker.

A dance with my dad

1. I am dancing with my father at my parents’ 50th wedding anniversary celebration. The band is playing an old-fashioned waltz as we move gracefully across the floor. His hand on my waist is as guiding as it always was, and he hums the tune to himself in a steady, youthful way. ①Around and around we go, laughing and nodding to the other dancers. We are the best dancers on the floor, they tell us. My father squeezes my hand and smiles at me.

2. As we continue to dip and sway, I remember a time when I was almost four, and my father came home from work, swooped me into his arms and began to dance me around the table. My mother laughed at us, and told us dinner would get cold. But my father said, “She’s just caught the rhythm of the dance! Dinner can wait.” And then he sang out, “Roll out the barrel, we’ll have a barrel of fun,” and I sang back, “We’ve got the blues on the run.” That night he taught me polka and waltz while dinner waited.

3. We danced through the years. When I was five, my father taught me “Shuffle Off to Buffalo”. Later we won a dance contest at a Camp Fire Girls. Then we learned jitterbug at the USO. Once my father caught on to the steps, he danced with everyone in the hall. We all laughed and clapped for my father, the real dancer.

4. ②One night when I was 15, lost in some painful, adolescent mood, my father put on a stack of records and teased me to dance with him. “C’mon,” he said. “Let’s get those blues on the run.” ③I turned away from him, and hugged my pain closer. My father put his hand on my shoulder, and I jumped out of the chair, screaming, “Don’t touch me! Don’t touch me! I am sick and tired of dancing with you!” ④The hurt on his face did not escape me, but the words were out, and I could not call them back. I ran to my room, sobbing hysterically.

5. We did not dance together after that night. I found other partners, and my father waited up for me after dances, sitting in his favorite chair. Sometimes he would be asleep when I came in, and I would wake him, saying, “If you were so tired, you should have been abed.”

6. “No, no,” he’d say. “I was just waiting for you.”

7. Then we’d lock up the house and go to bed.

8. ⑤My father waited up for me all through my high school and college years while I danced my way out of his life. 

II. Text analysis

①Around and around we go, laughing and nodding to the other dancers. (Line 4, Para. 1)

翻译：我们跳了一圈又一圈，不时地向其他舞者笑着点头致意。

②One night when I was 15, lost in some painful, adolescent mood, my father put on a stack of records and teased me to dance with him. (Line 1-2, Para. 4)

翻译：我十五岁那年的一个晚上，由于青春期的多愁善感，我非常悲伤。父亲拿出一摞唱片，哄逗我跟他跳舞。

③I turned away from him, and hugged my pain closer. (Line 3, Para. 4)

翻译：我转过身，陷入了更深的痛苦中。

④The hurt on his face did not escape me, but the words were out, and I could not call them back. (Line 5-6, Para. 4)

翻译：我看到他脸上受伤的表情，但话已经说出口，我无法收回。

⑤My father waited up for me all through my high school and college years while I danced my way out of his life. (Line 1-2, Para. 8)

翻译：在我上高中和大学的几年里，每次我出去跳舞，父亲都会一直等我回家，但我却舞出了他的生活。

III.Test

1. I am dancing with my father at my parents’ 50th wedding anniversary celebration. The band is playing an old-fashioned waltz as we move gracefully across the floor. His hand on my waist is as guiding as it always was, and he hums the tune to himself in a steady, youthful way. ①Around and around we go, laughing and nodding to the other dancers. We are the best dancers on the floor, they tell us. My father squeezes my hand and smiles at me.

        2. As we continue to dip and sway, I remember a time when I was almost four, and my father came home from work, swooped me into his arms and began to dance me around the table. My mother laughed at us, and told us dinner would get cold. But my father said, “She’s just caught the rhythm of the dance! Dinner can wait.” And then he sang out, “Roll out the barrel, we’ll have a barrel of fun,” and I sang back, “We’ve got the blues on the run.” That night he taught me polka and waltz while dinner waited.

        3. We danced through the years. When I was five, my father taught me “Shuffle Off to Buffalo”. Later we won a dance contest at a Camp Fire Girls. Then we learned jitterbug at the USO. Once my father caught on to the steps, he danced with everyone in the hall. We all laughed and clapped for my father, the real dancer.

        4. ②One night when I was 15, lost in some painful, adolescent mood, my father put on a stack of records and teased me to dance with him. “C’mon,” he said. “Let’s get those blues on the run.” ③I turned away from him, and hugged my pain closer. My father put his hand on my shoulder, and I jumped out of the chair, screaming, “Don’t touch me! Don’t touch me! I am sick and tired of dancing with you!” ④The hurt on his face did not escape me, but the words were out, and I could not call them back. I ran to my room, sobbing hysterically.

       5. We did not dance together after that night. I found other partners, and my father waited up for me after dances, sitting in his favorite chair. Sometimes he would be asleep when I came in, and I would wake him, saying, “If you were so tired, you should have been abed.”

        6. “No, no,” he’d say. “I was just waiting for you.”

7. Then we’d lock up the house and go to bed.

8. ⑤My father waited up for me all through my high school and college years while I danced my way out of his life.