学英语作文

时间：2023-10-21 07:54:11 英语作文我要投稿

实用的学英语作文[推荐]

　　无论在学习、工作或是生活中，大家都不可避免地要接触到作文吧，借助作文人们可以实现文化交流的目的。那么你有了解过作文吗？以下是小编整理的学英语作文5篇，仅供参考，希望能够帮助到大家。

实用的学英语作文[推荐]

学英语作文篇1

　　I love my hometown.The environment here is pretty good.The trees are green and the sky is blue.There is a big lake behind my house,the water is very clean,and I usually go fishing with my mother.There are also a lot of animals,they are very cute.You see,my hometown is beautiful,welcome to my hometown!

学英语作文篇2

　　今天早晨妈妈送我去上英语班。

　　我今班以后先用英语给魏老师打了个招呼，然后就把装在书包里的英语书拿出来路英语。一会儿过后老师让我们背原来学的第十课课文，大家齐声背了一遍。老师很不满意地说：“这一课的课文是怨我没教好，还是怨你们没学好啊?读的.怎么像蹦豆子一样，半天蹦不出一个字来。”全班沉默了。“好了，下课好好读读背背，这篇课文是要求会背的，”老师说。“啊”。大家吃惊地说。

　　下课了同学们都纷纷去请教学习好的问她们这个怎么读，那个怎么读，当然我也不例外。可是有一个人不是，我的朋友王宁馨。她在一边津津有味的吃自己在楼下买来的东西。

　　上课了开始老师没有提第十课的事，所以我们都差点把它忘的一干二净。可是等到过课的时候我们都非常紧张，老师说：“先读会儿，会背的过来找我背。”

　　我们班的同学有会背的所以都跑过去找老师背，我看见她们都去了我也跑了过去。一会儿我回来了，老师给我加了一颗星星。王宁馨看见之后急了所以也去找老师背，可是她回来时却是让我检查她。没办法只好奉命行事了，我检查她时她连会读都不会读。一会后我实在忍不住了就让他找老师检查，老师一看这样就只能她检查了，就让我先回去了。

　　这一天终于过完啦，这一天我可过得真累啊。

学英语作文篇3

　　三年级英语作文：A Warm-hearted Man

　　One afternoon an old woman was crossing the street with a basket in her hand. She was going to do some shopping. Just then a car ran up fast and she was knocked down. One of her legs was hurt and she couldn't move any more. A kind cleaner saw whis and rushed to her at once. He helped her stand up and took her to the nearest hospital. What a warm-hearted man he was!

　　【译文】

　　一天下午,一位老太太提着篮子过马路,她想去买点东西。就在这时一辆汽车快速开过来,老太太被撞倒了。她的`一只腿受了伤,不能动了。一位好心的清洁工人看到了这个情景,便立刻向她冲过去。她帮助老人站起身来,并把她送到附近的医院。

　　三年级英语作文：A Dream

　　A Dream

　　Mary: I’m now in the sea. I can’t believe it! It’s so beautiful! What a colorful fish! It’s so lovely! Little fish, don’t go away! Oh, here comes a blue whale. Wow, it’s so big! It’s bigger than my classroom. Oh no! There is a shark! Help! Help!

　　Helen: What’s the matter, Mary?

　　Mary: I saw a shark. Its teeth are so big!

　　Helen: Oh, it must be a dream.

　　Mary: …Yes, it’s a dream.

　　三年级英语作文：Animals

　　I like animals very much. I have a dog, It’s my favourite animal. It’s white, It looks like a snow ball. It has two big eyes and ears. But its nose and mouth are very small. It’s very naughty.

　　It often stares at my food when I have a meal. When I’m home it follows me all the time.

　　When I do my homework, it often sits beside quietly, but sometimes runs around me and shouts: wom wom.

　　I like my dog very much.

　　三年级英语作文：My family

　　I have a warm family. There are five people in my family, father, mother, grandfather, grandmother and I. Do you know them, now let me introduce them to you one by one.

　　My mother has long hair. She’s very kind. She is an accountant. She likes listening to music and watching TV. She goes to work by car. My dad is tall and fat. he ahs two big eyes. He is very strict but sometimes funny. He is a manager. He goes to work by car, too. He likes swimming. My grandpa is very old, but he is still strong. He likes playing chess very much. He often goes to play chess with his friends. My grandma is short. She is very kind to us. Her hobby is watching TV and cooking. We like her food. It’s delicious. I like drawing pictures and listening to music. I go to school by school bus every week. I have to study hard at school every day because I am in Grade Six now. I hope I can enter Shunde No. 1 Middle School next year.

　　So these are all about my family. I love my family and they love me, too. What about you?

　　三年级英语作文：I love my bedroom

　　I have a bedroom .It is not big , but it is nice .There is a bed in my bedroom . A yellow dog is on the bed .Every night,I sleep with it . Next to the bed, there is a desk. A bear lamp is on the desk .I like the bear lamp. It‘s cute. I like to do homework under the lamp every evening. I have a new computer in my bedroom .It is my best friend . Because I study at it, play at it . There are also several beautiful pictures on the wall.

　　I like my bedroom. Do you like it?

　　三年级英语作文：My best friends

　　I have many friend.Do you know who they are?Are they my pet?No.Are they my classmates?No. Let me tell you:they are my favourit book.

　　I like books very much.I like reading science book,cartoonbook so on.not only let me know how wonderful the word is but also teach me how to be a good person in the society,they give me great pleasure.

　　I love books!

学英语作文篇4

　　Dear mother ,

　　The mother's day is coming and I would like to say “Happy mother's day” in this letter. I love you and thank you so much for everything you did for me. This day，I will stay away and can't give you my appreciation at home. I know I will watch myself，so don't worry about me. I am doing very well on my study. My schoolmates and teachers are all very nice. Though I can't be at home， I hope you will have a wonderful mother's day.

　　Your son,

　　Li ming

　　亲爱的母亲：

　　母亲节快到了，我想在这封信里对您说“母亲节快乐”。我爱你，感谢你为我做的一切。这一天，我离开了，不能在家给您表达我的谢意。我知道我会看着自己，所以不要担心我。我在学习上做得很好。我的`同学和老师都很好。尽管我不在家里，我仍希望您有一个美好的母亲节。

　　你的儿子，

　　李明

学英语作文篇5

　　i was not yet 30 years old and was working as a firefighter in the south brons engine co. 82, probably the worlds most active firehouse at the time. it was warm and sunny, the kind of leisurely sunday that brought etra activity to the neighborhood and to its firefighters. we must have had 15 or 20 calls that day, the worst being a garbage fire in the rear of an abandoned building, which required a hard pull of 600 feet of cotton-jacketed hose.

　　between alarms i would rush to the company office to read captain grays copy of the sunday new york times. it was late in the afternoon when i finally got to the book review section. as i read it, my blood began to boil. an article blatantly stated what i took to be a calumny -- that william butler yeats, the nobel prize-winning light of the irish literary renaissance, had transcended his irishness and was forever to be known as a universal poet.

　　there were few things i was more proud of than my irish heritage, and ever since i first picked up a book of his poems from a barracks shelf when i was in the military, yeats had been my favorite irish writer, followed by sean ocasey and james joyce.

　　my ancestors were irish farmers, fishermen and blue-collar workers, but as far as i can tell, they all had a feeling for literature. it was passed on to my own mother, a telephone operator, who hardly ever sat down without a book in her hands. and at that moment my own fingernails might have been soiled with the soot of the days fires, but i felt as prepared as any trinity don to stand up in the court of public opinion and protest. not only that yeats had lived his life and written his poetry through the very essence of his irish sensibility, but that it was offensive to think irishness -- no matter if it was psychological, social or literary -- was something to be transcended.

　　my stomach was churning, and i determined not to let an idle minute pass. hey, captain gray. could i use your typewriter? i asked.

　　the typewriter was so old that i had to use just one finger to type, my strongest one, even though i could type with all ten. i grabbed the first piece of clean paper i could find -- one that had the logo of the fire department of the city of new york across the top -- and, hoping there would be a break in the alarms for 20 minutes or so, wrote out a four-paragraph letter of indignation to the editor of the sunday book review.

　　throughout his poetry, i postulated, yeats yearned for a messiah to lead ireland out from under the bondage of english rule, and his view of the world and the people in it was fundamentally irish.

　　just as i addressed the envelope, the final alarm of my tour came in, and as i slid down the long brass pole, i felt unepectedly calm, as if a great rock had been purged from the bottom of my stomach.

　　i dont know why i felt it my obligation to safeguard the reputation of the worlds greatest poet, at least net to homer and shakespeare, or to inscribe an apologia for irish writing. i just knew that i had to write that letter, in the same way a priest has to pray, or a musician has to play an instrument.

　　until that point in my life i had not written much of value -- a few poems and short stories, the beginning of a coming-of-age novel. i knew that my writing was anything but refined. like a beginning artist who loves to draw, i understood that the more one draws, or writes, or does anything, the better the end result will be, and so i wrote often to better control my writing skills, to master them. i sent some material to various magazines and reviews but found no one willing to publish me.

　　it was a special and unepected delight, then, when i learned something id written would finally see print. ironically it wasnt one of my poems or short stories -- it was my letter to the times. i suppose the editor decided to publish it because he was first attracted by the official nature of my stationery (was his staff taking smoke breaks out on the fire escape?), and then by the incongruity of a ghetto firefighters using words like messianism, for in the lines below my letter it was announced that i was a new york city firefighter. id like to think, though, that the editor silently agreed with my thesis.

　　i remember receiving through the fire departments address about 20 sympathetic and congratulatory letters from professors around the country. these letters made me feel like i was not only a published writer but an opinion maker. it was as if i was suddenly thrust into being someone whose views mattered.

　　i also received a letter from true magazine and one from the new yorker, asking for an interview. it was the latter that proved momentous, for when an article titled fireman smith appeared in that magazine, i received a telephone call from the editor of a large publishing firm who asked if i might be interested in writing a book about my life.

　　i had little confidence in my ability to write a whole book, though i did intuit that my work as a firefighter was a worthy subject. and so i wrote report from engine co. 82 in si months, and it went on to sell two million copies and to be translated into 12 languages. in the years that followed, i wrote three more best-sellers, and last year published a memoir, a song for mary: an irish-american memory.

　　being a writer had been far from my epectations; being a best-selling author was almost unfathomable. how had it happened? i often found myself thinking about it, marveling at it, and my thoughts always came back to that letter to the new york times.

　　for me, the clearest eplanation is that i had found the subject i was searching for, one i felt so strongly about that the writing was a natural consequence of the passion i felt. i was to feel this same kind of passion when i began writing about firefighters and, later, when writing about my mother. these are subjects that, to me, represent the great values of human life -- decency, honesty and fairness -- subjects that burn within me as i write.

　　over the years, all five of my children have come to me periodically with one dilemma or another. should i study english or art? should i go out for soccer or basketball? should i take a job with this company or that one?

　　my answer is always the same, yet they still ask, for reassurance is a good and helpful thing. think about what youre feeling deep down in the pit of your stomach, i tell them, and measure the heat of the fire there, for that is the passion that will flow through your heart. your education and your eperience will guide you toward making a right decision, but your passion will enable you to make a difference in whatever you do.

　　thats what i learned the day i stood up for irelands greatest poet.

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