由于工作之便，我有机会接触到加拿大的各类“高考”试卷。加拿大孩子的作文比起某些八股文来，文字虽不够华丽，但是真情实感跃然纸上，完全是发自内心的感悟。以下摘录并翻译一个实例，不做任何评论，只希望给读者带来启发。
作文题：某些经历标志着成熟的开端
在我的一生中，父亲从来没有干过一份工作。 1983 年，也就是我出生前的两年，他挨家挨户地推销书籍，那是他最后一次工作。我不知道他为什么一直做着一个“家庭夫男”，也许因为我母亲是个医生，能挣足够的钱来养活一家子，或许还有其它的什么原因。
不管父亲出于什么原因落入这般境地，我内心总是充满了窘迫之感。人们从来不问：“你妈妈是做什么的？”，我实在厌烦了一遍又一遍地回答：“我爸爸是个作家（反正那是一句谎话），但是我妈妈是名医生！”
终于，在我上七年级的时候，我再也不愿意为爸爸编造谎言了。在我想终止学钢琴的时候我总算有了机会向父亲表白一切。
“爸爸，我不喜欢弹钢琴。”我非常消极的说道。
“有许多事情我们是不喜欢的，但是我们必须要做。”他回答道。
“我不想弹了。”我马上反驳他。
“不行。”他回答得很坚决，但我也不绝不因威吓而妥协。
“是的，爸爸，这是我的选择，我不喜欢弹钢琴，所以我就可以不弹。”
“不！你必须弹下去！你会明白我们都要做自己不喜欢做的事情，我们做是因为我们必须去做，因为我们从中可以学到很多东西。”
这时，我看到了一个向他表达我内心感受的机会，我逮住了这个机会。
“那好，爸爸，”我语气中带着一丝肤浅的傲气，“我知道我许多朋友的爸爸不喜欢工作，但他们仍然在做，没有选择的余地。但是你就呆在家里玩电脑编程，看电视。你不出去找工作因为你不喜欢工作，你不想工作！”
谈话到此结束。他没有再哼一个字。他盯着我看了几秒钟，又将目光转回到马路上，不停地喘着粗气。我知道我击中要害了。
我为自己感到骄傲。这是我第一次在争吵中让爸爸闭上了嘴，并且被允许可以不再弹钢琴了！以后的几个星期里，我们几乎谁也不理谁。
五年以后，我上十二年级了。我选了文学课，但是我又不想上了，只修十二年级的英文课。
“儿子，你不能那样做，”爸爸说道，这次口气温和多了。
“为什么，爸爸？我就是不想上了。”
“不能那样。你能在这门课上学到很多。许多事情我们不想做，但是又不得不做。”
我五年前的那个回答又跑到我脑子里来了，但是我觉得即便是那样想都是不对的。
“其实，”我开始说到，“你是对的。也许我应该继续上完这门课，它能帮助我练习写作和阅读。”
为什么我没有重复我以前的回答呢？我想这可能是我开始成熟的标志。我爸爸或许在他的生活中犯了某些错误，一个人的生活目标绝不是最后连一个工作都没有，但是防止他的儿子犯同样的错误是他作为父亲的责任。
每当我听到贝多芬的“月光奏鸣曲”的时候，我真希望自己也能弹奏这首曲子。有一天我也许会重新弹起钢琴。
不过我可以骄傲的说，数年以后我可以在爸爸走向死亡的时候，自豪并充满爱意地望着病榻的父亲并背诵“ 不要温和地走进那个良夜”。
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【译注】“ 不要温和地走进那个良夜”为著名 威尔士诗人狄兰·托马斯 (Dylan Thomas) 所作。
托马斯是继奥登（ W.H. Auden ）以后英国的又一位重要诗人。托马斯的诗作大体属于超现实主义流派，其诗中所蕴含的内容具有梦幻色彩，通过对于意象的描绘堆砌，托马斯所创造出来的诗境往往引人入胜。另外，托马斯很注重押韵，其诗以善于朗诵闻名。除了写诗，托马斯也写过一些短篇小说几个电影剧本。 1953 年，托马斯逝世，享年 39 岁。
“ 不要温和地走进那个良夜” 作于其父逝世前病危期间。中文 翻译：巫宁坤
不要温和地走进那个良夜，
老年应当在日暮时燃烧咆哮；
怒斥，怒斥光明的消逝。
虽然智慧的人临终时懂得黑暗有理，
因为他们的话没有进发出闪电，他们
也并不温和地走进那个良夜。
善良的人，当最后一浪过去，高呼他们脆弱的善行
可能曾会多么光辉地在绿色的海湾里舞蹈，
怒斥，怒斥光明的消逝。
狂暴的人抓住并歌唱过翱翔的太阳，
懂得，但为时太晚，他们使太阳在途中悲伤，
也并不温和地走进那个良夜。
严肃的人，接近死亡，用炫目的视觉看出
失明的跟睛可以像流星一样闪耀欢欣，
怒斥，恕斥光明的消逝。
您啊，我的父亲．在那悲哀的高处．
现在用您的热泪诅咒我，祝福我吧．我求您
不要温和地走进那个良夜。
怒斥．怒斥光明的消逝。
Do not go gentle into that good night,
Old age should burn and rave at close of day;
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
Though wise men at their end know dark is right,
Because their words had forked no lightning they
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright
Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight,
And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way,
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight
Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
And you, my father, there on that sad height,
Curse, bless, me now with your fierce tears, I pray.
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
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INSTRUCTIONS: Using standard English, write a coherent, unified, multi-paragraph composition of approximately 300 words on the topic below. In your composition, you may apply any effective and appropriate method of development which includes any combination of exposition, persuasion, description, and narration.
Write a multi-paragraph composition on the topic below. In addressing the topic, you may draw support from the experiences of others or from any aspect of your life, for example, your reading and your experiences.
Topic: Certain experiences can mark the beginnings of maturity.
My father has never had a job in my life. His last job was a door-to-door book salesman in 1983, two years before my birth. I do not know why he has remained a “house-husband”; maybe it is because my mom is a doctor and makes enough money to support our family, or maybe there are other reasons.
Whatever the cause of his situation, it always filled me with embarrassment. People never ask, “What does your mom do?”, and I was sick of providing the same response, “My dad is an author,” (which is a lie, anyway), “.... but my mom is a doctor!”
The time came, when I was in grade 7, when I was completely frustrated with lying for my dad. The opportunity to inform him of this came when I was attempting to quit piano lessons.
“ Dad, I don’t like playing the piano,” I stated passively.
“ There’re lots of things we don’t like, but we have to do them,” he responded.
“ I want to quit,” I retorted quickly.
“ No,” he responded firmly. I refused to become intimated.
“ Yes, dad. It’s my choice. I don’t like doing it so I can quit.”
“ No! You’re not quitting! You’ll learn that we all do things that we don’t enjoy, but we do them because we have to, and because we learn from them.”
I saw my opportunity to let him know how I felt, and I took it.
“ Well, dad,” I stated, with a superficial importance, “I know a lot of my friends’ dad’s don’t like working , but they still do it! It’s not an option. But you stay at home programming computers for fun and watching TV and you don’t look for a job because you don’t like it. You don’t want to!”
That was the end of that conversation. He did not mutter another word. He stared at me for a few seconds and averted his eyes back to the road. His breathing was heavy. I knew I had made my point.
I felt proud – it was the first time I had been able to silence my dad in an argument, and I was allowed to quite piano! During the next few weeks, we hardly acknowledged each other.
5 years later, I am in grade 12. I am taking Literature 12, but I want to drop it and only take English 12.
“ Son, you can’t do that,” my dad said, less aggressively this time.
“ Dad, why? I want to.”
“ You can’t. You’ll learn a lot from this class. There’re things we do that we don’t always want to, we just have to.”
My previous response came to my head, but I felt wrong for even thinking it.
“ Actually,” I started, “you’re right. I probably should. It’ll help my writing and reading comprehension.
Why did I not repeat my first response? I think it may be a sign of my developing maturity. My dad may have made some mistakes in his life, and it should never be someone’s goal to end up without a job, but it’s his role – as a dad – to try to prevent his son from making the same mistakes as he did. Whenever I hear Beethoven’s “Moonlight Sonata”, I wish I could play it myself. I may one day take up the piano again. I am proud to say, though, that in several years I will look at my father on his deathbed with love and pride, and be able to quote “Do Not Go Gentle into that Good Night” by rote.
