很多學(xué)生都說美國(guó)高考SAT或ACT的閱讀很難高分，難在哪里？難在于考的Critical Reading。這個(gè)Critical的英語與中文的文字上直譯為：批判性閱讀。傳統(tǒng)的中文好像還沒有這個(gè)詞呢。我們傳統(tǒng)講的只是“讀書”、“閱讀”。到底這個(gè)“批判性閱讀”需要如何去讀？

這個(gè)是美國(guó)在英語閱讀的教育上所提倡的閱讀教學(xué)，在一些國(guó)家，批判性閱讀被認(rèn)為是考核學(xué)生的學(xué)習(xí)能力，而且對(duì)于學(xué)生有效的閱讀起著至關(guān)重要的作用。我覺得這個(gè)Critical不能直譯為中文“批判性”，因?yàn)樗⒉皇菐е?批判性"這個(gè)詞的意思，但確實(shí)找不到更準(zhǔn)確的文字來翻譯,近年來大家已成習(xí)俗這種說法

什么是批判性閱讀？這個(gè)就是跟“略讀”、"粗讀”相反的閱讀模式：深入去理解文章的內(nèi)容、結(jié)構(gòu)，理解文章的邏輯兼容、調(diào)子以及思想。批判性閱讀是個(gè)對(duì)讀者參與感要求極高的閱讀模式。讀者和作者是相對(duì)平等的；當(dāng)作者在敘述觀點(diǎn)的時(shí)候，讀者要通過思考來和作者達(dá)到積極地互動(dòng)和交流。普通的閱讀，讀者的思考是被動(dòng)的隨著作者的闡述而進(jìn)行的；可是批判性閱讀，讀者不僅僅會(huì)主動(dòng)地辯證性地思考作者的觀點(diǎn)，同時(shí)也會(huì)對(duì)文本的整體結(jié)構(gòu)達(dá)到更深的理解。一篇好的文章，通常是有它的思想意義或者靈魂所在，讀者要讀出作者所寫這篇文章的真正所表達(dá)的思想內(nèi)容，而不是僅僅讀懂作者所寫的文字表面的故事而已。

那怎樣才能成為一個(gè)擁有批判性思考的讀者呢？下面有幾點(diǎn)讓大家參考。

1. 成為作者的聽眾

2.    不僅僅能夠讀懂作者表面上的文字，更重要的是了解作者寫下這些文字背后的意義。想更好地明白作者的意圖，讀者去了解作者的背景，以及仔細(xì)琢磨引言和批注都是很有幫助的。下面的一篇示范性的文章《家》是我們機(jī)構(gòu)上個(gè)星期給7、8年級(jí)的學(xué)生上的閱讀課文章。首先老師讓學(xué)生知道這個(gè)作者布魯克斯于1953年寫這篇文章，作者是美國(guó)一位著名的黑人女作家，獲得普利策獎(jiǎng)，她筆下總是貧窮的小人物。這樣讓學(xué)生更加容易明白作者寫這篇文章是意圖是什么。當(dāng)時(shí)我們有一個(gè)思考題，同學(xué)們選擇了不同的答案，老師讓學(xué)生們說說為什么選擇了他們的答案，同時(shí)讓同學(xué)們互相辯論。同學(xué)們積極性特高。

3. 開放性的思維

4.    批判性閱讀的讀者樂于從不同角度去剖析作者觀點(diǎn)的深度。

5.  揣摩標(biāo)題

6.     一篇文章最顯眼的就是標(biāo)題。標(biāo)題也是最能體現(xiàn)作者的中心思想，態(tài)度以及敘事方式的存在。

7.  慢式閱讀

8.     慢慢地閱讀、不要囫圇吞棗地去閱讀，能幫助讀者更加好的理解文字行間的細(xì)微聯(lián)系。

9.  運(yùn)用字典或者其他資料幫助理解不懂的詞

       每一個(gè)詞匯的出現(xiàn)都是有意義的。遇到不會(huì)的詞，及時(shí)的運(yùn)用字典或者其他文獻(xiàn)資料能更好幫助讀者了解作者的觀點(diǎn)。通過閱讀去理解單詞，是一個(gè)很有效的掌握詞匯的方法。

10.  做筆記
    

11.  在閱讀的時(shí)候，讀者可以根據(jù)自己的習(xí)慣，把作者的主要觀點(diǎn)和論證通過標(biāo)注或者側(cè)批的方式記錄下來，

12. 養(yǎng)成記錄讀書日志的習(xí)慣

13.    養(yǎng)成一個(gè)寫讀書日志的習(xí)慣，讀者的想法不僅能被永久的記錄下來，而且還可以提高寫作能力。閱讀和寫作能力可以同時(shí)得到提高。

14. 特別針對(duì)中國(guó)學(xué)生，批判性閱讀能提高學(xué)生們的批判性思維的能力。帶著批判性思維去閱讀，對(duì)批判性閱讀很有幫助。

下面是兩篇批判性閱讀范例 (包括文章，思考問題，以及詞匯），初中家長(zhǎng)們可以讓你的孩子閱讀一下，讓孩子跟你們談?wù)勥@兩篇文章所寫的內(nèi)容、表達(dá)的思想和文章的意義所在。這兩篇文章是我們給七、八年級(jí)的閱讀課所用的文章：

 第一篇：                                                 

Home

By Gwendolyn Brooks. 1953

 What had been wanted was this always, this always to last, the talking softly on this porch, with the snake plant in the jardinière in the southwest corner, and the obstinate slip from Aunt Eppie’s magnificent Michigan fern at the left side of the friendly door. Mama, Maud Martha, and Helen rocked slowly in their rocking chairs,and looked at the late afternoon light on the lawn and at the emphatic iron of the fence and at the poplar tree. These things might soon be theirs no longer. Those shafts and pools of light,the tree, the graceful iron, might soon be viewed passively by different eyes.

Papa was to have gone that noon, during his lunch hour, to the office of the Home Owners’ Loan. If he had not succeeded in getting another extension, they would be leaving this house in which they had lived for more than fourteen years. There was little hope. The Home Owners’ Loan was hard. They sat, making their plans.

“We’ll be moving into a nice flat somewhere,” said Mama. “Somewhere on South Park, or Michigan, or in Washington Park Court.” Those flats, as the girls and Mama knew well, were burdens on wages twice the size of Papa’s. This was not mentioned now. 

“They’re much prettier than this old house,” said Helen. “I have friends I’d just as soon not bring here. And I have other friends that wouldn’t come down this far for anything, unless they were in a taxi.”

Yesterday, Maud Martha would have attacked her. Tomorrow she might. Today she said nothing. She merely gazed at a little hopping robin in the tree, her tree, and tried to keep the fronts of her eyes dry.

“Well, I do know,” said Mama, turning her hands over and over, “that I’ve been getting tireder and tireder of doing that firing. From October to April, there’s firing to be done.”

“But lately we’ve been helping, Harry and I,” said Maud Martha. “And sometimes in March and April and in October,and even in November, we could build a little fire in the fireplace. Sometimes the weather was just right for that.”

She knew, from the way they looked at her,that this had been a mistake. They did not want to cry.

But she felt that the little line of white, sometimes ridged with smoked purple, and all that cream-shot saffron would never drift across any western sky except that in back of this house. The rain would drum with as sweet a dullness nowhere but here. The birds on South Park were mechanical birds, no better than the poor caught canaries in those “rich” women’s sun parlors.

“It’s just going to kill Papa!” burst out Maud Martha. “He loves this house! He lives for this house!”

“He lives for us,” said Helen. “It’s us he loves. He wouldn’t want the house, except for us.”

“And he’ll have us,” added Mama,“wherever.”

“You know,” Helen sighed, “if you want to know the truth, this is a relief. If this hadn’t come up, we would have gone on, just dragged on, hanging out here forever.”

“It might,” allowed Mama, “be an act of God. God may just have reached down and picked up the reins.”

“Yes,” Maud Martha cracked in, “that’s what you always say — that God knows best.”

Her mother looked at her quickly, decided the statement was not suspect, looked away.

Helen saw Papa coming. “There’s Papa,” said Helen. 

They could not tell a thing from the way Papa was walking. It was that same dear little staccato6 walk,one shoulder down, then the other, then repeat, and repeat. They watched his progress. He passed the Kennedys’, he passed the vacant lot, he passed Mrs. Blakemore’s. They wanted to hurl themselves over the fence, into the street, and shake the truth out of his collar. He opened his gate— the gate — and still his stride and face told them nothing.

“Hello,” he said.

Mama got up and followed him through the front door. The girls knew better than to go in too.

Presently Mama’s head emerged. Her eyes were lamps turned on.

“It’s all right,” she exclaimed. “He got it. It’s all over. Everything is all right.”

The door slammed shut. Mama’s footsteps hurried away.

“I think,” said Helen, rocking rapidly, “I think I’ll give a party. I haven’t given a party since I was 11. I’d like some of my friends to just casually see that we’re homeowners.”

Discussion學(xué)生討論:

1, What is the difference between a house and a home?

2, In the context of the text, what makes a family? Why is a home an important part of a family? Cite evidence from this text, your own experience, and other literature, art, or history in your answer.

Assessment測(cè)驗(yàn)：

1, PART A: Which of the following identifies a theme of the text?

Homes provide physical and emotional security for families.

While change can be frightening, it also creates a chance for growth.

The stress of waiting for bad news can be worse than the bad news itself.

Families are stronger when everyone shares their true feelings.

2, PART B: Which detail from the text best supports the answer to Part A?

a, “'They’re much prettier than this old house,’ said Helen.'I have friends I’d just as soon not bring here.’” (Paragraph 4)

b, “'It’s just going to kill Papa!’ burst out Maud Martha.'He loves this house! He lives for this house!’” (Paragraph 10)

c, “'if you want to know the truth, this is a relief. If this hadn’t come up, we would have gone on, just dragged on, hanging out here forever.’” (Paragraph 13)

d, “'I think I’ll give a party. I haven’t given a party since I was 11. I’d like some of my friends to just casually see that we are homeowners.’” (Paragraph 24)

第二篇：  

Maud Martha And New York                       

By Gwendolyn Brooks

The name “New York” glittered in front of her like the silver in the shops on Michigan Boulevard. It was silver, and it was solid, and it was remote: it was behind glass, it was behind bright glass like the silver in the shops. It was not for her. Yet.

When she was out walking, and with grating iron swish a train whipped by, off, above,its passengers were always, for her comfort, New York-bound. She sat inside with them. She leaned back in the plush. She sped, past farms, through tiny towns,where people slept, kissed,quarreled,1 ate midnight snacks; unfortunate folk who were not New York-bound and never would be.

Maud Martha loved it when her magazines said “New York,” described “good” objects there, wonderful people there, recalled fine talk, the bristling or the creamy or the tactfully shimmering ways of life. They showed pictures of rooms with wood paneling, softly glowing, touched up by the compliment of a spot of auburn here, the low burn of a rare binding there. There were ferns in these rooms, and Chinese boxes; bits of dream like crystal; a taste of leather. 

In the advertisement pages, you saw where you could buy six Italian plates for eleven hundred dollars — and you must hurry, for there was just the one set;you saw where you could buy antique French bisque figurines(pale blue and gold) for — for — 

Her whole body became a hunger, she would pore over these pages. The clothes interested her, too; especially did she care for the pictures of women wearing carelessly, as if they were rags, dresses that were plain but whose prices were not. And the foolish food (her mother’s description) enjoyed by New Yorkers fascinated her. They paid ten dollars for an eight-ounce jar of Russian caviar; they ate things called anchovies, and capers; they ate little diamond-shaped cheeses that paprika had but breathed on; they ate bitter-almond macaroons; they ate papaya packed in rum and syrup; they ate peculiar sauces, were free with honey, were lavish with butter,wine and cream.

She bought the New York papers downtown, read of the concerts and plays, studied the book reviews, was intent over the announcements of auctions. She liked the sound of “Fifth Avenue,” “Town Hall,” “B. Altman,”“Hammacher Schlemmer.” She was on Fifth Avenue whenever she wanted to be, and she it was who rolled up, silky or furry, in the taxi, was assisted out, and stood, her next step nebulous, before the theaters of the thousand lights, before velvet-lined impossible shops; she it was.

New York,for Maud Martha, was a symbol. Her idea of it stood for what she felt life ought to be. Jeweled. Polished. Smiling. Poised. Calmly rushing! Straight up and down, yet graceful enough. 

She thought of them drinking their coffee there — or tea, as in England. It was afternoon. Lustrous people glided over perfect floors, correctly smiling. They stopped before a drumtable,covered with heavy white — and bearing a silver coffee service, old (in the better sense) china, a platter of orange and cinnamon cakes (or was it nutmeg the cakes would have in them?), sugar and cream, a Chinese box, one tall and slender flower. Their host or hostess poured, smiling too, nodding quickly to this one and that one, inquiring gently whether it should be sugar,or cream, or both, or neither (She was teaching herself to drink coffee with neither). All was very gentle. The voices, no matter how they rose,or even sharpened, had fur at the base. The steps never bragged or grated in any way on any ear — not that they could very well, on so good a Persian rug, or deep soft carpeting. And the drum table stood in front of a screen, a Japanese one perhaps, with rich and mellow, bread-textured colors. The people drank and nibbled, while they discussed the issues of the day, sorting rejecting, revising. Then they went home quietly, elegantly. They retired to homes not one whit less solid or embroidered than the home of their host or hostess.

What she wanted to dream, and dreamed, was her affair. It pleased her to dwell upon color and soft bready textures and light, on a complex beauty, on gem like surfaces. What was the matter with that? Besides, who could safely swear that she would never be able to make her dream come true for herself? Not altogether,then! — but slightly? — in some part?

She was eighteen years old, and the world waited. To caress her.

Assessment測(cè)試：

1.  Which of the following identifies the theme of the text?

1.  People always strive to possess what they can’t have.

2. Beautiful things and places can be deceiving.

3. It’s easy and pleasant to get swept up by dreams of the future.

4. The bigger a person dreams, the more they are likely to accomplish.

Discussion學(xué)生討論:

1. What does your ideal future look like?

2. Do you think Maud Martha’s desires to go to New York are realistic? Why or why not?

3. In the context of the text, why should we value our youth? How does Maud Martha’s age contribute to her views on the future? Cite evidence from this text, your own experience, and other literature,art, or history in your answer.

Vocabulary詞匯:

1. Quarrel (verb): to have an angry argument or disagreement

2. Poised (adjective): having a composed and self-assured manner

3. Lustrous (adjective): shining or glowing

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