2024年4月10日发(作者：蜂鸟二手摄影器材交易)

Unit 1

Fresh Start

Evelyn Herald

I first began to wonder what I was doing on a college campus anyway when

my parents drove off, leaving me standing pitifully in a parking lot, wanting

nothing more than to find my way safely to my dorm room. The fact was that no

matter how mature I liked to consider myself, I was feeling just a bit first-gradish.

Adding to my distress was the distinct impression that everyone on campus was

watching me. My plan was to keep my ears open and my mouth shut and hope no

one would notice I was a freshman.

With that thought in mind, I raised my head, squared my shoulders, and set

out in the direction of my dorm, glancing (and then ever so discreetly) at the

campus map clutched in my hand. It took everything I had not to stare when I

caught my first glimpse of a real live college football player. What confidence,

what reserve, what muscles! I only hoped his attention was drawn to my airs of

assurance rather than to my shaking knees. I spent the afternoon seeking out each

of my classrooms so that I could make a perfectly timed entrance before each

lecture without having to ask dumb questions about its whereabouts.

The next morning I found my first class and marched in. Once I was in the

room, however, another problem awaited me. Where to sit Freshmen manuals

advised sitting near the front, showing the professor in intelligent and energetic

demeanor. After deliberation, I chose a seat in the first row and to the side. I was in

the foreground (as advised), but out of the professor’s direct line of vision.

I cracked my anthology of American literature and scribbled the date at the

top of a crisp ruled page. “Welcome to Biology 101,” the professor began. A cold

sweat broke out on the back of my neck. I groped for my schedule and checked

the room number. I was in the right room. Just the wrong building.

So now what Get up and leave in the middle of the lecture Wouldn’t the

professor be angry I knew everyone would stare. Forget it ,I settled into my chair

and tried to assume the scientific pose of a biology major ,blending slightly

forward, tensing my arms in preparation for furious notetaking, and cursing under

my breath. The bottled snakes along the wall should have tipped me off.

After class I decided my stomach (as well as my ego) needed a little

nourishment, and I hurried to the cafeteria. I accidentally stepped in a large puddle

of ketchup. Keeping myself upright and getting out of the mess was not going to

be easy, and this flailing of my feet was doing not good. Just as I decided to try

another maneuver, my food tray tipped and I lost my balance. As my rear end met

the floor, I saw my entire life pass before my eyes: it ended with my first day of

college classes.

In the seconds after my fall I thought how nice it would be if no one had

noticed. But as all the students in the cafeteria came to their feet, table by table,

cheering and clapping, I knew they had not only noticed ,they were determined

that I would never forget it. Slowly I kicked off my ketchup-soaked sandals and

jumped clear of the toppled tray and spilled food. A cleanup brigade came

charging out of the kitchen, mops in the hand. I sneaked out of the cafeteria as the

cheers died down behind me.

For three days I dined alone on nothing more than humiliation, shame, and an

assortment of junk food from a machine strategically placed outside my room. On

the fourth day I couldn’t take another crunchy-chewy-saltly-sweet bite. I needed

some real food. Perhaps three days was long enough for the campus population to

have forgotten me. So off to the cafeteria I went.

I made my way through the food line and tiptoed to a table, where I collapsed

in relief. Suddenly I heard a crash that sounded vaguely familiar. I looked up to see

that another poor soul had met the fate I’d thought was reserved only for me. I

was even more surprised when I saw who the poor soul was: the very composed,

very upper class football player I’d seen just days before (thought he didn’t look

quite so composed wearing spaghetti on the front of his shirt). My heart went out

to him as people began to cheer and clap as they had for me. He got up, hands

held high above his head in a victory clasp , grinning from ear to ear. I expected

him to slink out of the cafeteria as I had, but instead he turned around and began

preparing another tray. And that’s when I realized I had been taking myself far

too seriously.

What I had interpreted as a malicious attempt to embarrass a naïve freshman

had been merely a moment of college fun. Probably everyone in the cafeteria had

done something equally dumb when he or she was a freshman－and had lived to

tell about it.

Who cared whether I dropped a tray, where I sat in class, or even whether I

showed up in the wrong lecture Nobody. This wasn’t like high school. Popularity

was not so important: running with the crowd was no longer a law of survival. In

college, it didn’t matter. This was my bid chance to do my own thing, be my own

woman－if I could get past my preoccupation with doing everything perfectly.

Once I recognized that I had no one’s expectations to live up to but my own,

I relaxed. The shackles of self-consciousness fell away, and I began to view college

as a wonderful experiment. I tried on new experiences like articles of clothing,

checking their fit and judging their worth. I broke a few rules to test my conscience.

I dressed a little differently until I found the Real Me. I discovered a taste for jazz,

and I decided I like going barefoot .

I gave up trying to act my way through college (this wasn’t drama school)

and began not acting at all. College, I decided, was probably the only time I would

be completely forgiven for massive mistake (including stepping in puddles of

ketchup and dropping food trays). So I used the opportunity to make all the ones I

thought I’d never make.

Three years after graduation, I’m still making mistakes. And I’m even being

forgiven for a few.

全新的开始

我第一次开始思考我的大学要做些什么，不管怎样我的父母把我送到大学校园便开车

离开了，我一个人孤零零地站在停车场，此时此刻我只想平安地找到去我宿舍的道路。一

个无法改变的事实是无论我认为自己多么成熟，我都觉得还是有点儿大一新生的稚气。此

外我还有一个烦恼就是总觉得大学里的每一个人好像都在注意我。我只想张开耳朵闭起嘴

巴希望这样就不会有人注意到我是一个大一新生。

基于这种想法，我抬起头，耸耸肩，于是一边看着手里的校园地图，一边朝着宿舍走

去。当我第一眼看到一个真正的大学足球运动员时我情不自禁地盯着他看。那是是一个多

么自信，多么淡定，肌肉多么有型的人啊。此时我只希望能引起他注意的是我的外貌而不

是我颤抖的膝盖。我花了一下午的时间来找每一间教室的位置，这样以后上课时就可以准

时赶到，而不用问我们教室在哪儿这样愚蠢的问题。

第二天的早上我去上第一节课。然而我刚进教室，又遇到了另一件麻烦事。我该坐哪

儿呢新生手册上说我们最好尽量往前坐。这样就会给教授留下聪明好学又精力旺盛的印象。

仔细考虑之后，我选择了第一排靠边的一个位置。虽然我坐在前排，但是没有在教授的视

线范围之内。

我打开了我的美国文学选集然后在排版整齐的书上随便地写上日期。“欢迎来到101

教室的生物课堂，”教授开始了他的开场白。然而我的脖子后面却冷汗直冒，我摸到了我的

时间表，然后校对了一下门牌号。我才发现我进对了教室却跑错了教学楼。

现在怎么办呢上课期间起身离开这样教授难道不会生气吗我知道如果这样每个人都会

盯着我看。别胡思乱想了。我坐在椅子上装成生物专业的学生的样子，身体稍微地向前倾，

我绷紧胳膊准备疯狂地做笔记，并悄悄地骂娘。墙上挂着的那些瓶装的蛇似乎也在暗示我

应该认真点。

下课后我饿的肚子直叫，于是我飞奔到自助餐厅。我的托盘上放着美味的三明治然后

便走向了卖色拉的窗口，结果一不小心踩上了一堆番茄酱。此时想要站直并摆脱窘境一点

也不容易，我也开始控制不住我的腿。正在我准备想别的办法时，我的托盘开始倾斜，我

一下子失去了平衡。当我摔得四脚朝天时，我觉得我这辈子都完了，我在大学上课的第一

天就这么结束了。

在我摔倒后的几秒钟我想要是没有人看到我的丑态该多好啊。可是餐厅里的同学们就

站在眼前，一桌挨着一桌，他们在鼓掌，在欢呼。我知道他们不仅看到了，而且让我永远

不会忘记这一刻。我慢慢地踢开被番茄酱浸透的凉鞋，跳过打翻的一干二净的托盘和洒出

的饭菜。一群清洁工过来用拖把把垃圾冲出了餐厅。当我身后的掌声渐渐地平息的时候我

偷偷地溜出了自助餐厅。

有三天的时间我都是一个人进餐，然而吃的只不过是从我们宿舍外面的一个处在一个

抢眼位置的机器里取出的各种各样的垃圾食品。在第四天的时候，我实在受不了那些嘎吱

嘎吱又不易嚼碎不仅甜而且咸的垃圾食品了。我需要的是真正能吃的东西。也许三天的时

间让同学们忘记我应该足够的长了。所以我还是去了自助餐厅。

我小心翼翼地穿过排队打饭的人群，安心地做了下来。突然间我听到了一声熟悉的破

碎声。我抬头看到一个可怜的家伙遇到了原以为只有我才会遭遇的不幸。当我看到那个可

怜的家伙时我更是感到吃惊，因为他竟然是我几天前看到的那个非常淡定而且超赞的足球

运动员。（尽管现在洒了一身的意大利空心面他看起来并不镇静）。当别人冲着他像以前对

待我一样欢呼雀跃，拍手称快时，我却对他充满了无限的同情。接着他站了起来，举起双

手摆了一个胜利的姿势。我原以为他会像我当时一样偷偷地溜出自助餐厅，然而他却转身

又打了一份自助餐。直到那时我才意识到是我太把自己当回事了。

我刚才所解释的，比如故意让一个幼稚的大学新生难堪时光只不过是大学快乐生活的

一瞬间而已。也许自助餐厅里的每一个学生都曾在他们大一的时候做过一些很无语的事情

——并且都曾有过“现场直播”。

谁会在乎我是否打翻了托盘，我会坐在教室的哪个地方，抑或是在那节进错了教室的

文学课上我是否会出现。没有人会在意。这里跟高中完全不同。名声不再那么重要，追随

大众也不再是生存的不二法则。在大学里，这些都是无所谓的。这里我有机会做我想做的

事，如果我可以超越偏见并且凡事都做到最好，我愿意做真正的自己。

当我意识到我除了要兑现自己的承诺而不用为了达到别人的期望值而费心时，我真的

好轻松。当我甩开自我意识的脚镣时，我开始把大学生活当做一种完美的尝试。我试着拥

有一些新的感觉比如在穿衣服上，看看它们是否合身并且物有所值。我破坏了一些规定以

此来检验我的良知。我的打扮有点另类直到我找到了真正的自己。我发现了爵士舞的味道，

并且我决心要光着脚来跳。

我放弃了大学的表演之路，并决定以后再也不表演了（我们学校并不是影视学校）。大

学的时光也许是我决定要彻底忘记曾经犯过的错误的最好时间（包括我踩在那堆番茄酱并

打翻了托盘）。因此我竭尽所能犯了一些我觉得以后绝不会再犯的错误。

毕业三年后，我仍然在犯错。然而我的一些小错误甚至可以得到别人的原谅。