115年 - 115 金門縣國民中學正式教師聯合甄選:英語文#141578

科目:教甄◆英文科 | 年份:115年 | 選擇題數:50 | 申論題數:0

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30. (A) aggregation (B) dispersal (C) hibernation (D) reproduction
Passage 2
Although piano performance, sketching, and Chinese calligraphy belong to different fields of
art, brain science suggests they all share a common foundation: a tightly linked system joining
the hands, the senses, and sustained attention. In each activity, the hand performs the action
while the eyes or ears supply constant __31__, and the mind notices small mistakes as they
happen. Because of this overlapping demand, every practice __32__ on areas of the brain
devoted to coordination and to deliberate planning. Yet each activity also asks something
special of the body and mind: piano calls for split-second timing, sketching calls for visual
judgment, and calligraphy calls for disciplined hand technique. At the keyboard, a pianist
must keep both hands moving independently while listening closely and anticipating what
comes next, a skill that depends heavily on a __33__ sense of rhythm. __34__ sketching, an
artist studies proportion, light, and shadow, translating a three-dimensional scene onto a flat
page through patient observation. In calligraphy, a writer adjusts the pressure of the brush, the
order of strokes, and the balance of the whole composition, requiring quiet concentration and
fine motor __35__. Taken together, these three pursuits build both a shared flexibility of mind
and their own special strengths. Piano, sketching, and calligraphy should therefore be seen not
as interchangeable pastimes but as different paths toward a more complete development of
mind and body.
35. (A) precision (B) stamina (C) exultation (D) rigidity
VI. Reading Comprehension
Reading 1
In ancient Mesopotamia, bronze was far more than a useful material for tools and
weapons. Archaeologists and historians now argue that control over bronze production helped
early rulers build and maintain political power. Understanding how bronze was made, who
controlled it, and how it was used reveals a great deal about the structure of early
Mesopotamian states.
Bronze is an alloy made primarily of copper and tin. Producing it required several
stages: mining or acquiring the raw metals, smelting them at high temperatures, combining
them in the correct proportions, and casting the resulting alloy into finished objects. This
process demanded specialized knowledge that only a small number of skilled workers
possessed. It also required materials that were not available locally. Southern Mesopotamia,
the region around cities such as Ur and Uruk, had fertile land and abundant water, but it lacked
natural deposits of copper and tin. As a result, these metals had to be brought in from distant
regions, including Anatolia (in modern-day Turkey), the Iranian Plateau, and areas along the
Persian Gulf. Because raw materials had to travel such long distances, only well-organized
institutions—particularly royal palaces and temples—had the resources and connections
needed to secure a steady supply. This gave these institutions significant influence over the
entire bronze-making process, from importing raw metal to distributing finished goods.
This influence operated in three main ways. The first involved military power. Bronze
was used to make weapons such as spearheads, axes, and armor, which were essential for
warfare and for maintaining control over territory. From the Early Dynastic period (roughly 2900–2350 BCE) through the later Neo-Assyrian Empire (911–609 BCE), rulers who
controlled the production and distribution of metal weapons had a clear military advantage over
rival cities and states. The second way involved the organization of labor. Archaeological
excavations have uncovered workshops located near palaces and temples where bronze objects
were produced. Workers in these workshops were often paid in rations of food, such as barley
or oil, rather than wages. This system allowed institutions to closely supervise skilled laborers,
ensuring that valuable bronze production remained under direct political control rather than
being left to independent craftspeople. The third way involved religion and royal imagemaking. Temples commissioned bronze statues of gods, and rulers had bronze plaques,
ceremonial vessels, and decorative fittings made for palaces and religious buildings. These
objects were not simply decorative; they visually communicated a ruler’s connection to divine
authority and reinforced the idea that political power was legitimate and supported by the gods.
Taken together, these three uses—military, administrative, and religious—show that
bronze was deeply connected to how power functioned in Mesopotamian society. Rulers did
not just use bronze; they organized entire networks of trade, labor, and craftsmanship around it.
Securing copper and tin meant maintaining trade relationships with distant regions. Supervising
production meant managing workers and resources within the city. Commissioning religious
and ceremonial objects meant shaping how the public perceived royal and divine authority. In
this way, a single material connected very different parts of Mesopotamian political life.
This pattern was not unique to Mesopotamia. Many archaeologists studying early states
in other parts of the world have observed similar relationships between metal technology and
political organization. When a valuable material requires complex production methods and
long-distance trade, the institutions that can organize and control these processes often gain
considerable political advantages over those that cannot. Mesopotamian bronze production
offers one of the clearest and earliest examples of this broader pattern, showing how a
technological development can become deeply intertwined with the rise and maintenance of
state power.
42. What does the author suggest in the final paragraph about the relationship between
technology and political power in early states generally?
(A) This relationship was unique to Mesopotamia and not observed elsewhere.
(B) Most early states avoided relying on valuable materials to maintain power.
(C) Complex, resource-demanding technologies often gave organized institutions a
political advantage in many early societies.
(D) Political power in early states in Mesopotamia was based primarily upon religious
authority rather than material resources.


Reading 2
For much of the twentieth century, sporting excellence was regarded as a relatively
straightforward concept. Victory was commonly interpreted as the outcome of superior
physical ability, rigorous training, and unwavering determination. Athletes who consistently
outperformed their competitors were widely admired not merely for their achievements but
also for embodying ideals of discipline, perseverance, and fair play. Although technological
innovation influenced sporting equipment and facilities, such developments were generally
viewed as peripheral rather than transformative.
Over the past three decades, however, the relationship between athletic performance
and technology has become increasingly complex. Elite athletes now compete within
ecosystems shaped by biomechanical analysis, artificial intelligence, wearable sensors,
nutritional science, and sophisticated recovery protocols. Training decisions that were once
guided primarily by coaches' intuition are increasingly informed by predictive algorithms
capable of identifying subtle physiological changes long before they become visible to the
human eye. As a result, success in modern sport depends not only on an athlete's physical
capabilities but also on the expertise of multidisciplinary teams that include data scientists,
psychologists, physiologists, and engineers.
This transformation has prompted a fundamental philosophical question: when athletic
performance is increasingly optimized through technological intervention, what exactly
should be regarded as the object of admiration? Some scholars argue that technological
assistance merely extends humanity's long-standing pursuit of excellence. From this
perspective, innovations such as carbon-fiber prosthetic limbs, altitude simulation chambers,
and real-time biometric monitoring differ only in degree, rather than in kind, from earlier
developments such as synthetic running tracks or advanced footwear. Human achievement has
always depended, to some extent, on technological progress.
Others remain unconvinced. They contend that contemporary sports risk shifting public
admiration away from athletes themselves and toward the technological systems that support
them. If two competitors possess nearly identical physiological capacities, yet one benefits
from vastly superior analytical tools, financial resources, and scientific expertise, can the
resulting performance still be interpreted as an expression of individual excellence? Critics
further argue that technological advantages often mirror broader socioeconomic inequalities,
enabling wealthier sporting organizations to accumulate competitive advantages unavailable
to less affluent nations or institutions. Under such circumstances, victory may increasingly
reflect disparities in technological infrastructure rather than differences in athletic ability.
The issue becomes even more complicated when artificial intelligence begins to
influence strategic decision-making during competition itself. Machine-learning systems are
already capable of analyzing opponents' tactical tendencies, predicting injury risks, and
recommending real-time adjustments during matches. While proponents regard these
developments as natural extensions of evidence-based coaching, opponents question whether
excessive reliance on algorithmic recommendations diminishes the very uncertainty that has
historically made sport compelling. Spectators have long admired athletes not only because
they perform extraordinary physical feats but also because they make difficult decisions under
conditions of uncertainty. If those decisions become progressively delegated to predictive
technologies, some argue that an essential element of sporting excellence may gradually
disappear.
Yet it would be misleading to conclude that technology inevitably undermines sport.
Historically, nearly every major technological innovation—from electronic timing systems to
video assistant referees—has initially generated controversy before eventually becoming
normalized. What distinguishes current developments is not simply their sophistication but
their capacity to influence cognitive processes traditionally regarded as uniquely human.
Consequently, the debate surrounding technology in sport is no longer confined to questions
of fairness or competitive balance; it increasingly concerns the philosophical meaning of
human achievement itself.
Perhaps, then, the central question is not whether technology should be incorporated
into sport, but rather where society chooses to locate athletic excellence. If excellence is
understood primarily as the maximization of measurable performance, technological
optimization appears not merely acceptable but desirable. If, however, excellence also
encompasses human judgment, resilience, creativity, and adaptability under uncertainty, then
the increasing delegation of decision-making to intelligent systems may require a fundamental
reconsideration of what spectators truly celebrate when they applaud athletic success.

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