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老黄
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来自: 太平 --〉关丹

帖子发表于: 17-02-16 星期三 10:19 am    发表主题: 引用并回复

四年级课文《叶奶奶的菜园》:

Picture:Click to zoom

有人这样的投诉:
引用:

在此要向你反映一片有误导小孩的课文。致少,你的学生将形容词的成语当名词用。假期作业的造句就有"真相大白桌子”。十年树木,百年树人。请你再阅读"叶奶奶的菜园”。
谢谢你!……
我们极力反对篇文章以正本课文流通或学习文章教育下一代。因为课本是学生第一接触的媒介体或学习的范本。请多为下一代学习正解华文而思量。

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来自: 太平 --〉关丹

帖子发表于: 17-02-16 星期三 10:57 am    发表主题: 引用并回复

原文作者是王文华,台湾知名儿童文学作家:

https://tw.answers.yahoo.com/question/index?qid=20100307000016KK01736 写到:
兒童文學作家王文華,畢業於台東大學兒童文學研究所。寫作十幾年來,有感一般人對「童話」的認識停留在粗淺的表面認知,因此,他的個人網站以「王文華的童話公園」為名,並選了「童話中的“藝”想世界」做為在兒美館的演講題目。
王文華曾經以簡短而令人捧腹的文字,描述自己的經歷:「還沒當老師前,換過三十六種工作(族繁不及備載,像是泊車小弟之類 )。當了老師十九年來, 換了六間學校、十位校長。」簡明扼要的經歷讓人印象深刻。目前為小學老師也是知名兒童文學作家的王文華,出版的童書已有五十幾本,創作的靈感除了自身孩童的經驗外,學校的教書生活也提供源源不絕的創意。
曾獲國語日報兒童文學牧笛獎、九歌現代兒童文學獎、陳國政兒童文學獎、台灣省兒童文學獎、民生報兒童文學獎……得過的獎項可說不計其數。
而出版的作品有《 滷肉妹.怪頭與我》、《變身小鬼》、《拜託拜託土地公》、《天空的游泳場》、《童話印刷機》、《易開罐夏天》、《美夢銀行》、《淘氣小狐仙》、《豬兒當自強》、《泡妞特攻隊》、《我的家人我的家》、《草魚潭的孩子》、《我的老師虎姑婆》、《ㄒㄧㄚ、老師的祕》、《甜甜圈公主》、《躲貓貓,讓你們永遠找不到》……還有膾炙人口的【可能國小的歷史任務】系列作品,說他著作等身真是不過份!
此外,他的書,更得過香港2008年十本好書、教育部校園國語文教材、好書大家讀推荐、聯合報讀書人推荐最佳童書、金鼎獎童書……。
另外,他的作品被選入課文的有:
《失火了》選入康軒版國小二下國語課文(2009年)。《小猴子奇奇 》、《葉奶奶的菜園 》選入康軒國小三上國語課文(2009年)。《兩道彩虹~叔公的蘭花》選入康軒國小六上國語-失落的山谷。《 兩道彩虹~姑姑回來了》。《我的家人我的家》選入部編實驗教材六上國語課本(一彎吊橋)。《全村成一家》選入康軒版道德與健康教師手冊補充教材。


请特别留意《叶奶奶的菜园》,它也被选作台湾的语文教材。我们的课本虽然注明原文作者,篇名却成了《叶奶奶的花园》。
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老黄
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来自: 太平 --〉关丹

帖子发表于: 17-02-16 星期三 11:00 am    发表主题: 引用并回复

王文华既然是知名儿童文学作家,作品自然有其价值。
能够流传的,必有其特色。这是很现实而又真实的问题。不好的篇章,自然会受到淘汰。

我们看看王文华的作品:

引用:

葉奶奶的菜園
王文華

星期三是校外教學的日子。這天陽光普照,氣候溫和,美美和他們班的同學都抱著歡喜的心情,去參觀葉奶奶的菜園。

葉奶奶的菜園入口,種著許多長相特別的菜,大家走近一聞,都覺得味道很香,看見旁邊的牌子寫著「齒頰生香菜」。真有這種菜嗎?大家都很驚訝。葉奶奶笑著說︰「它就是香菜,吃完讓人齒頰生香。」

菜園裡還有好多有趣的菜。

「千辛萬苦瓜」就是苦瓜。葉奶奶說,種瓜很辛苦,可是有些小朋友卻很怕吃它。其實苦瓜並不像它的名字那麼苦,只要細細品味,反而能吃出特有的味道,讓人體會種瓜人先辛苦後收穫的甜美滋味。

另外有一個牌子寫著「不敗之地瓜」。葉奶奶撥開地瓜葉,告訴我們︰「壯壯的地瓜全都躲在土裡。你們看它們是不是很會玩捉迷藏?」她的話,讓大家哈哈大笑。

葉奶奶帶著我們在菜園邊漫步,我們看見毛豆結了數不清的果實。葉奶奶很得意的說︰「這是『多如牛毛豆』,因為豆子長得像牛毛一樣多。」毛豆旁邊還有一種開滿黃色小花的植物,大家都不知道那是什麼。葉奶奶把土翻一翻,地裡出現可愛的花生寶寶,令大家驚嘆連連,難怪牌子上寫著「遍地開花生」,真是有趣啊!

回家的路上,美美心想,家裡也種了不少花,她要趕快幫它們做幾個有趣的名牌,改天再請葉奶奶過來參觀。

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来自: 太平 --〉关丹

帖子发表于: 17-02-16 星期三 11:17 am    发表主题: 引用并回复

请比较王文华原文的创意:

齒頰生香菜
千辛萬苦瓜
不敗之地瓜
多如牛毛豆
遍地開花生

以及课文补上的:

小家碧玉米
如花似玉米
字字珠玉米

我感觉语感并不在同一个层次。
这就像广告上创造的广告词,有些叫你拍案叫绝,有些却不堪入目,嚼之无味。
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来自: 太平 --〉关丹

帖子发表于: 17-02-16 星期三 11:24 am    发表主题: 引用并回复

这是从教科书选文的角度看问题。

如果从学生学习的角度看待,问题并不大。就像我们解释字义,可以按照学生理解水平做。例如解释品字,我的学生说品字有三个口,代表一口,一口再一口慢慢咬着吃,吃得很香很美味,所以,品尝的品就是这样的意思。

我接受。虽然这样的解释不符合文字学学说。根据《说文解字》:“眾庶也。从三口。凡品之屬皆从品。”(原来口是指人口,三口就是三人,众的意思。)

前者是感性学习,是小学生学习母语要做到的;后者是理性思维,是大学生必须掌握的语文知识。小学生的的理性思维还没有建立起来,学习过程不妨多注重感性的体悟。

其实,课文出现这样的文字游戏,老师只要稍加说明,强调这些并非规范的写法,平时是不鼓励滥用,就会避开一些生造词语的谬误了。
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来自: 太平 --〉关丹

帖子发表于: 01-09-18 星期六 3:39 am    发表主题: 引用并回复

三年级课文:《一份特别的礼物》

Picture:Click to zoom
Picture:Click to zoom
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来自: 太平 --〉关丹

帖子发表于: 01-09-18 星期六 3:45 am    发表主题: 引用并回复

原文:

赛珍珠:圣诞节的早晨

清晨四点,他忽然醒来,完完全全地醒来了。这是父亲叫他起身帮助挤牛奶的时间。奇怪的是,他小时候的习惯居然一直坚守到现在。父亲辞世30年了,然而他仍然在清晨4点醒来。今天是圣诞节,他不想再睡了。
  现在的圣诞节还有什么魅力呢?他的童年和少年时代已逝去很久,他的孩子已经长大成人,远走高飞了。
  昨天,他的妻子说:“那不值得,也许……”
  他说:“爱丽斯,即使只有我们两个,也让我们过一个自己的圣诞节。”
  她接着说:“让我们明天再装饰圣诞树吧,罗伯特,我有点累了。”
  他同意了,树还搁在后门外。
  今天夜里他为什么老是醒着呢?夜空晴朗,群星闪烁。天上没有月亮,星星也就异乎寻常的闪亮。这时他记起来了,圣诞节黎明前的星星似乎总是那样晶莹透亮。
  他又陷入对往事的回忆,现在他变得十分善感。那年他15岁,仍呆在父亲的农场。圣诞节的前几天,他无意中听到父亲在对母亲说些什么。他才意识到:他很爱父亲。
  “玛丽,我真不愿在早晨叫醒罗伯。他现在长得很快,正需要睡眠,我真想自己一个人顶着干。”
  “唉,你干不了,亚当。”母亲的声音很清脆。“另外,他也不是个小孩了。是他干活的时候了。”
  “是呀,”父亲缓缓地说,“不过我真不愿意叫醒他。”
  听到这儿,他的内心似乎有什么东西被唤醒了:父亲如此疼爱他!这一点他从来没想到,认为父子关系就应该是这样的。既然明白了父亲疼爱他,那么一清早就不应该再那么磨磨蹭蹭地,老是要父亲叫醒。他起床了,睡眼惺忪,穿上了衣服。
  圣诞节前一天夜晚,他躺在床上琢磨,第二天应干些什么。他们一家生活清贫。给他们带来最大节日享受的是自家饲养的火鸡,还有母亲亲手做的碎肉馅饼和姐姐自缝的礼物。父母给他买些他需要的东西,不仅仅是一件暖暖和和的茄克衫,或许还有些别的,比如一本书。他呢,也用自己节省下来的钱买点东西回赠他们。
  他在思量,在自己15岁的圣诞节,要给父亲一件更好的礼物,不再是那小店铺买来的普普通通的领带。他侧身躺着,注视着顶楼的窗外。
  “爸爸,”有一次他这样问,那时他还很小,“什么是马厩?”
  “那就是一个牲口棚,”父亲回答,“跟我们的牛栏差不多。”
  那么,耶稣就诞生在一个马厩里,牧羊人和头领还把圣诞礼物送到马厩里呢!
  一个主意在他眼前闪过。他为什么不能给父亲一件特别的礼物呢?就在外面的牛栏里呀!
  望着天边的星星?他失声笑了。就这么干,不过可不能睡得太死了。
  他一定醒来过20次!每次划着一根火柴,看一眼那只旧表。
  3点还差一刻,他起身了,悄声下楼。那楼板会吱吱嘎嘎地发出响声,他格外小心,终于出了家门。一颗明亮的星星低悬在屋顶上空,放射出金黄又略带微红的光泽。奶牛看着他,既困倦又惊奇,对于它们来说,挤奶的时间似乎太早了一点。
  它们平静地等候着他。他为每头牛加了点草,又取来了奶桶和大奶罐。
  他从来也没独个儿挤过奶,但是这活看来也并不难。他嘴角挂着微笑,不停地干着。牛奶像两条白柱倾入奶桶,泛着白色泡沫,溢出诱人奶香。牛很听话,似乎也知道是过圣诞节哩。
  事情比设想的顺利。挤一次奶也并非难事。这就是他奉献给父亲的圣诞礼物呀。终于干完了,大奶罐都盛得满满的,他加上盖,轻轻关上牛栏的门,还检查了门闩。他在门边放了一只蹬子,挂上了空奶桶,走出牛舍,关了门。
  回到自己屋里,只是一分钟的功夫,他就脱掉了衣服,迅速爬上了床,他听见了父亲的起床声,马上用被子蒙上了脑袋,盖住那急促的喘气声。这时,门被开启了。
  “罗伯!”父亲的叫声,“得起床了,圣诞节也一样。”
  “噢——”他梦呓般地应道。
  “我先去”,父亲说,“做点准备工作。”
  门关上了。他静静地躺着,笑出声来。只消几分钟,父亲就明白,一切都由他独自干完了。他的心高兴得快要跳出来。
  几分钟的功夫,似乎没了尽头——10分钟,15分钟。不知道过了多少分钟——终于听到了父亲的脚步声。门,又开启了。
  “罗伯!”
  “嗯,爸爸——”
  “我可以发誓……”父亲笑了,这是一种奇怪的“哧哧”的笑声,“你耍弄了我,是吗?”父亲站在床边,正在摸他,又把被子掀开了。
  “今天是圣诞节,爸爸!”
  他也摸到了父亲,紧紧地抱住了他。他也感到父亲双手搂住了他。黑暗中,彼此看不清对方的脸。
  “我的好儿子,我感谢你。没有什么人干过比这更好的事情了——”
  “爸爸,我要你知道,——我真想学好样的!”他自己也不知道怎么说出了这句话。他实在不知道说什么好。他那颗挚爱父亲的心一个劲儿地跳动着。
  “好吧!我还可以回去躺一会儿呢!”父亲停了一下又说,“不,你听——弟妹们都醒来了,你想想,我还从来没见过你们小孩子第一次看圣诞树的高兴劲儿呢!我老是呆在牛舍里。快起来吧!”
  他又穿起了衣服。父子俩下楼去看圣诞树。没多久,太阳爬到了刚才那颗星星的位置上。啊!多么美好的圣诞节!当父亲把刚才发生的一切告诉母亲的时候,他又羞愧又自豪,那颗心又激烈地跳动起来。
  “这是我所得到的最好的圣诞礼物,我得记住它,我的儿子,每一年圣诞节的早晨我都会记起它,只要我还活在人世。”
  父子俩一直铭记着这件事。现在父亲去世了,他独个记住:那个神圣的圣诞节的早晨,他一个人和母牛在牛舍里,在准备那奉献给父亲的第一件厚礼。这时,窗外的星星正在从天上渐渐遁去,他下了床,穿上拖鞋,披上浴巾,缓步下楼去。他把圣诞树移进屋来,精心修饰着,很快就干完了。他又走进书房,取出一只小盒,里边盛着给老伴的特别的礼物。一根钻石胸针,它不大,但设计精巧。他对它并不感到满足,他要告诉她——他多么爱她!
  能够爱别人是幸福的,那才是生活中真正的乐趣。他想起来了,很久以前当他明白父亲疼爱着他,他的心里就埋下了爱的种子。爱,只有爱,才能唤醒爱。
  早晨,这个神圣的圣诞节的早晨,他将把他的爱奉献给老伴,他将把它写在一封信内,让她永久地阅读和保存下去。他走到桌边,动起笔来:我最亲爱的……
  写完信,他封上口,把信挂在圣诞树上。他熄了灯,轻步上楼。天上的星星消逝了,太阳的第一束光芒在东方闪亮。这是一个幸福的圣诞节!
  (毛荣贵译)
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最后进行编辑的是 老黄 on 02-09-18 星期日 11:03 am, 总计第 1 次编辑
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来自: 太平 --〉关丹

帖子发表于: 01-09-18 星期六 3:47 am    发表主题: 引用并回复

原著(英文版):

http://www.altogetherchristmas.com/stories/ChristmasDayInTheMorning.html

Christmas Day In The Morning
By Pearl S. Buck

He woke suddenly and completely. It was four o'clock, the hour at which his father had always called him to get up and help with the milking. Strange how the habits of his youth clung to him still! Fifty years ago, and his father had been dead for thirty years, and yet he waked at four o'clock in the morning. He had trained himself to turn over and go to sleep, but this morning it was Christmas, he did not try to sleep.

Why did he feel so awake tonight? He slipped back in time, as he did so easily nowadays. He was fifteen years old and still on his father's farm. He loved his father. He had not known it until one day a few days before Christmas, when he had overheard what his father was saying to his mother.

"Mary, I hate to call Rob in the mornings. He's growing so fast and he needs his sleep. If you could see how he sleeps when I go in to wake him up! I wish I could manage alone."

"Well, you can't, Adam." His mother's voice was brisk. "Besides, he isn't a child anymore. It's time he took his turn."

"Yes," his father said slowly. "But I sure do hate to wake him."

When he heard these words, something in him spoke: his father loved him! He had never thought of that before, taking for granted the tie of their blood. Neither his father nor his mother talked about loving their children--they had no time for such things. There was always so much to do on the farm.

Now that he knew his father loved him, there would be no loitering in the mornings and having to be called again. He got up after that, stumbling blindly in his sleep, and pulled on his clothes, his eyes shut, but he got up.

And then on the night before Christmas, that year when he was fifteen, he lay for a few minutes thinking about the next day. They were poor, and most of the excitement was in the turkey they had raised themselves and mince pies his mother made. His sisters sewed presents and his mother and father always bought him something he needed, not only a warm jacket, maybe, but something more, such as a book. And he saved and bought them each something, too.

He wished, that Christmas when he was fifteen, he had a better present for his father. As usual he had gone to the ten-cent store and bought a tie. It had seemed nice enough until he lay thinking the night before Christmas. He looked out of his attic window, the stars were bright.

"Dad," he had once asked when he was a little boy, "What is a stable?"

"It's just a barn," his father had replied, "like ours."

Then Jesus had been born in a barn, and to a barn the shepherds had come...

The thought struck him like a silver dagger. Why should he not give his father a special gift too, out there in the barn? He could get up early, earlier than four o'clock, and he could creep into the barn and get all the milking done. He'd do it alone, milk and clean up, and then when his father went in to start the milking he'd see it all done. And he would know who had done it. He laughed to himself as he gazed at the stars. It was what he would do, and he musn't sleep too sound.

He must have waked twenty times, scratching a match each time to look at his old watch -- midnight, and half past one, and then two o'clock.

At a quarter to three he got up and put on his clothes. He crept downstairs, careful of the creaky boards, and let himself out. The cows looked at him, sleepy and surprised. It was early for them, too.

He had never milked all alone before, but it seemed almost easy. He kept thinking about his father's surprise. His father would come in and get him, saying that he would get things started while Rob was getting dressed. He'd go to the barn, open the door, and then he'd go get the two big empty milk cans. But they wouldn't be waiting or empty, they'd be standing in the milk-house, filled.

"What the--," he could hear his father exclaiming.

He smiled and milked steadily, two strong streams rushing into the pail, frothing and fragrant.

The task went more easily than he had ever known it to go before. Milking for once was not a chore. It was something else, a gift to his father who loved him. He finished, the two milk cans were full, and he covered them and closed the milk-house door carefully, making sure of the latch.

Back in his room he had only a minute to pull off his clothes in the darkness and jump into bed, for he heard his father up. He put the covers over his head to silence his quick breathing. The door opened.

"Rob!" His father called. "We have to get up, son, even if it is Christmas."

"Aw-right," he said sleepily.

The door closed and he lay still, laughing to himself. In just a few minutes his father would know. His dancing heart was ready to jump from his body.

The minutes were endless -- ten, fifteen, he did not know how many -- and he heard his father's footsteps again. The door opened and he lay still.

"Rob!"

"Yes, Dad--"

His father was laughing, a queer sobbing sort of laugh.

"Thought you'd fool me, did you?" His father was standing by his bed, feeling for him, pulling away the cover.

"It's for Christmas, Dad!"

He found his father and clutched him in a great hug. He felt his father's arms go around him. It was dark and they could not see each other's faces.

"Son, I thank you. Nobody ever did a nicer thing--"

"Oh, Dad, I want you to know -- I do want to be good!" The words broke from him of their own will. He did not know what to say. His heart was bursting with love.

He got up and pulled on his clothes again and they went down to the Christmas tree. Oh what a Christmas, and how his heart had nearly burst again with shyness and pride as his father told his mother and made the younger children listen about how he, Rob, had got up all by himself.

"The best Christmas gift I ever had, and I'll remember it, son every year on Christmas morning, so long as I live."

They had both remembered it, and now that his father was dead, he remembered it alone: that blessed Christmas dawn when, alone with the cows in the barn, he had made his first gift of true love.

This Christmas he wanted to write a card to his wife and tell her how much he loved her, it had been a long time since he had really told her, although he loved her in a very special way, much more than he ever had when they were young. He had been fortunate that she had loved him. Ah, that was the true joy of life, the ability to love. Love was still alive in him, it still was.

It occurred to him suddenly that it was alive because long ago it had been born in him when he knew his father loved him. That was it: Love alone could awaken love. And he could give the gift again and again.This morning, this blessed Christmas morning, he would give it to his beloved wife. He could write it down in a letter for her to read and keep forever. He went to his desk and began his love letter to his wife: My dearest love...

Such a happy, happy Christmas!
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来自: 太平 --〉关丹

帖子发表于: 04-09-18 星期二 7:43 pm    发表主题: 引用并回复

Picture:Click to zoom

《一份特别的礼物》,一般的教学情况一定会沿着这样的思路:

1)说出文章里的特别礼物是什么,99%肯定说是挤牛奶(圣诞节当天代替爸爸工作,给爸爸一个意外的惊喜)。

2)罗伯特这样的心思好吗?当然好,孝顺。

3)如果是你,你会准备什么礼物给爸爸/妈妈?我们的环境,已经训练出学生会说自制礼物,不必花钱,例如画一幅画,制作一张卡片等。不信?去问一问您的学生,如果不是,欢迎分享。

课文的确也是传达这样的信息,能够如此解读,已经很不错了。
问题是:作者是赛珍珠,一位曾经得过诺贝尔文学奖的美国女子。您认为她只是写出这样的一篇文章,然后就影响我们几代人,知道送什么礼物最珍贵了吗?

我不同意,赛珍珠也不同意。
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来自: 太平 --〉关丹

帖子发表于: 04-09-18 星期二 8:01 pm    发表主题: 引用并回复

赛珍珠的原文有那么一句:
引用:
Fifty years ago, and his father had been dead for thirty years, and yet he waked at four o'clock in the morning.


毛荣贵的翻译是:
引用:
父亲辞世30年了,然而他仍然在清晨4点醒来。


没有提到50年过去了。
上个星期天,我给中学生阅读,他们竟然留意到50年,叫我惊喜,不下圣诞节的牛奶。

一件事情,可以让一个人留下永恒的记忆,50年,半个世纪过去了,印象还那么深刻,这件事肯定不简单。就是“一件特别的礼物”而已?

我们有必要通过原文的解读再思考。
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来自: 太平 --〉关丹

帖子发表于: 04-09-18 星期二 8:12 pm    发表主题: 引用并回复

Picture:Click to zoom

这个情节(课文当着故事的起因来写,像记叙文),与原文有很大的不同:

引用:
圣诞节的前几天,他无意中听到父亲在对母亲说些什么。他才意识到:他很爱父亲。
  “玛丽,我真不愿在早晨叫醒罗伯。他现在长得很快,正需要睡眠,我真想自己一个人顶着干。”
  “唉,你干不了,亚当。”母亲的声音很清脆。“另外,他也不是个小孩了。是他干活的时候了。”
  “是呀,”父亲缓缓地说,“不过我真不愿意叫醒他。”
  听到这儿,他的内心似乎有什么东西被唤醒了:父亲如此疼爱他!这一点他从来没想到,认为父子关系就应该是这样的。既然明白了父亲疼爱他,那么一清早就不应该再那么磨磨蹭蹭地,老是要父亲叫醒。他起床了,睡眼惺忪,穿上了衣服。
(翻译得甚好,英文版应该也是这个意思)


我们可以思考的是:
罗伯无意间听到父母亲的对话,他得到的结论是:“他很爱父亲”。奇怪,为什么不是“(不太和蔼的)父亲很爱他”吗?
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