21-3-2【英语美文】你的孩子被霸凌，你会怎么做?《周日公园》

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Sunday in the park – Bel Kaufman

1.　It was still warm in the late-afternoon sun, and the city noises came muffled through the trees in the park. She put her book down on the bench, removed her sunglasses, and sighed contentedly. Morton was reading the Times Magazine section,one arm flung around her shoulder; their three-year-old son, Larry, was playing in the sandbox: a faint breeze fanned her hair softly against her cheek.

2.　How good this is, she thought, and almost smiled at her sense of well-being. They must out in the sun more often; Morton was so city-pale, cooped up all week inside the gray factory like university. The only other people in the playground were two women and a little girl on roller skates leaving now through the gate, and man on a bench a few feet away. He was a big man, and he seemed to be taking up the whole bench as he held the Sunday comics close to his face.

3.　She supposed he was the father of the other, rather fat little boy in the sandbox.At that moment, the fat little boy threw a spadeful of sand at Larry. Some of it landed on his hair and forehead. Larry looked up at his mother, his mouth tentative; her expression would tell him whether to cry or not.

4.Her first instinct was to rush to her son, brush the sand out of his hair, and punish the other child, but she controlled it. She always said that she wanted Larry to learn to fight his own battles. “Don’t do that, little boy,” she said sharply, leaning forward on the bench. “You mustn’t throw sand!”The man on the bench moved his mouth as if to spit again, but instead he spoke. He did not look at her, but at the boy only. “You go right ahead, Joe,” he said loudly. “Throw all you want. This here is a public sandbox.”

5.She felt a sudden weakness in her knees as she glanced at Morton. He had become aware of what was happening. He put his Times down carefully on his lap and turned his fine, lean face toward the man, smiling the shy, apologetic smile he might have offered a student in pointing out an error in his thinking. When he spoke to the man, it was with his usual reasonableness.

6.　“You’re quite right,” he said pleasantly, “but just because this is a public place….” The man lowered his funnies and looked at Morton. He looked at him from head to foot, slowly and deliberately. “Yeah?” His insolent voice was edged with menace. “My kid’s got just as good right here as yours, and if he feels like throwing sand, he’ll throw it, and if you don’t like it, you can take your kid the hell out of here.” The children were listening, their eyes and mouths wide open, their spades forgotten in small fists.

7.　“Now, just a minute,” Morton said courteously, “you must realize….” “Aw, shut up,” said the man. Her heart began to pound. Morton half rose; the Times slid to the ground. Slowly the other man stood up. He took a couple of steps toward Morton, then stopped. He flexed his great arms, waiting. She pressed her trembling knees together. Would there be violence, fighting? How dreadful, how incredible….She must do something, stop them,call for help. She wanted to put her hand on her husband’s sleeve, to pull him down, but for some reason she didn’t.

8.　Morton adjusted his glasses. He was very pale. “This is ridiculous,” he said unevenly. “I must ask you….” “Oh, yeah?” said the man. He stood with his legs spread apart, rocking a little,looking at Morton with utter scorn. “You and who else?” For a moment the two men looked at each other nakedly. Then Morton turned his back on the man and said quietly, “Come on, let’s get out of here.” He walked awkwardly, almost limping with self-consciousness, to the sandbox. He stooped and lifted Larry and his shovel out.

9.At once Larry came to life; his face lost its rapt expression and he began to kick and cry. “I don’t want to go home, I want to play better, I don’t want any supper, I don’t like supper….” With all the dignity she could summon, she pulled Larry’s sandy, perspiring little hand, while Morton pulled the other. Slowly and with head high she walked with her husband and child out of the playground.

10.　Her first feelings was one of relief that a fight had been avoided, that no one was hurt. Yet beneath it there was a layer of something else, something heavy and inescapable. She sensed that it was more than just an unpleasant incident, more than defeat of reason by force. Suddenly Morton spoke. “It wouldn’t have proved anything.” “What?” she asked. “A fight. It wouldn’t have proved anything beyond the fact that he’s bigger than Iam.” “Of course,” she said. “The only possible outcome,” he continued reasonably, “would have been—what?My glasses broken, perhaps a tooth or two replaced, a couple of days’ work missed – and for what? For justice? For truth?”

11.　“Of course,” she repeated. She quickened her step. The child was still crying. “Stop crying,” she said sharply. “I’m ashamed of you!” She felt as if all three of them were tracking mud along the street. The child cried louder.“Can’t you keep him quiet, for Pete’s sake?” Morton asked irritably. “What do you suppose I’ve been trying to do?” she said. Larry pulled back, dragging his feet. “If you can’t discipline this child, I will,” Morton snapped, making a move toward the boy. But her voice stopped him. She was shocked to hear it, thin and cold and penetrating with contempt. “Indeed?” she heard herself say. “You and who else?”