As your child progresses through life, he will make mistakes. As a parent, it’s your responsibility to correct those mistakes, but you should use the right way to correct your child’s mistakes or else you risk harming his self-esteem (自尊) or causing problems in your relationship. Using the right way to offer your child constructive criticism (建设性的批评) encourages healthy development.

Parents should be willing to teach their child proper behaviors when offering constructive criticism, according to an Everyday Health article. If your child’s leaving food particles on dishes that he’s washed, teach him your way of properly washing dishes, as opposed to shouting at him or thinking he’s lazy. You can say, “I know you work hard at washing the dishes every night. But for the past few weeks I’ve noticed that there’s been some food stuck on some of the dishes. I used to do this when I was about your age, too. May I show you the way I’ve learned to wash the dishes?”

Your child will probably not reply to your criticism if it is given in an angry tone (语气). Talk to your child when you’re calm and clear-headed. It’s difficult enough to receive criticism because no one really wants to hear about their mistakes, says psychiatrist Harry Croft, so it’s important that you use a loving tone when correcting your child’s mistakes. If the matter doesn’t need to be dealt with immediately, give yourself as much time as you need — even go for a walk — before correcting your child’s behaviors.

Comparison is never a good way of offering constructive criticism. When you compare your child with someone else, you are creating feelings of inadequacy (缺乏信心) in your child, which can have long-lasting bad influences. Instead, focus on your child, his behaviors, and the things he might be able to improve. Instead of saying, “I wish you could be respectful to your grandparents like your brother,” try saying, “I really want you to work on having more respect for your grandparents.”

I was home with my two young kids, when my mind started to wander. I was reflecting on my past and couldn’t help but think: Whatever happened to Kathy?

Kathy lived in a tiny Canadian town and she became my pen pal when I was 13. As a girl growing up in New Zealand, I was curious to learn more about the world and Kathy’s letters certainly showed me how different life could be in another country.

When I was 18, the letters had petered out(逐渐减少) and we lost contact. I’d gone on to marry my husband, Paul, and start a family, but the more I thought about it, the more I missed news of Kathy’s adventures. I decided to write to Kathy and knowing that her parents lived in such a small town, I addressed the letter to them and hoped for the best.

Three weeks later, my heart leapt when I got an envelope postmarked from Canada. “I recognized your handwriting straightaway,” Kathy wrote to me. It turned out that, like me, she’d also married but due to health problems, she was unable to have children. Her job as a nurse kept her busy and she enjoyed helping others.

Realizing how quickly life could change. I promised to keep writing to her no matter what. Her letters soon became a highlight for me, giving me the same excitement I’d felt as a 13-year-old.

One day, when Paul was using the saw(锯子) to cut some wood, a splinter(尖细条) flew into the center of my right eye and I lost my sight permanently. Paul felt terrible and while it was a huge blow(打击) for me, I tried to carry on as best I could. Soon, I needed an artificial eye(义眼, 假眼) and received financial compensation(赔偿) as a result of the accident in our yard.

One day, Paul advised, “Gayel, you should use the money to do something for yourself.”

So I left Paul and the kids to travel 30 hours to reach Kathy.

Houses are very different. Some are huge and have gold swimming pools. Pop stars live in those. Some are in rows with a brick wall at one end and overlook a pie factory. Franklin Gates lives in one of those. Number Three, Stanley Street, to be exact.

He loved living on Stanley Street. Everyone was friendly. All his mates were there and the smells from the pie factory, Mmm, delicious! There was just one problem. Franklin’s mum and dad wanted to move. His mum was expecting twins and they needed another bedroom. “This house is too small, ” said his mum. Next day, there was a “For Sale” sign stuck by Franklin’s door.

Franklin and his best friend Josh stared at the words of doom. “What am I going to do, Josh?” said Franklin.

Josh frowned. “Has your house got problems? Number forty’s got problems and no one wants to buy it.” Franklin stared at number forty. It looked all right to him. “What kind of problems?” he asked.

“Oh, mice and damp and really horrible wallpaper.” Franklin sighed. His house was warm and friendly and it had just been painted, worse luck.

Mrs. Cox lived next door to Franklin in a big house that had once been the corner shop. Just then, she came out, followed by her dog Zack.

“I’m sorry you’re moving,” Mrs. Cox said. “So am I,” Franklin grumbled. Mrs. Cox patted Franklin on the arm. “Never mind. Your house might take months to sell.”

However, a few days later, Franklin came home from school to find a man in the kitchen. His name was Mr. Bragg and was interested in buying the house. He glared at Franklin and trod on his toes, without saying sorry. Franklin’s heart sank when Mr. Bragg said he wanted to come back for a second visit on Saturday morning.

At school, Franklin asked, “Josh. Does your elder sister still work in the fish shop?” Josh nodded. “Good. Listen, I’ve got a job for you.”

Franklin cupped his hand over Josh’s ear and began whispering his plan.

Mr. and Mrs. Gates were very angry. “You’d better explain what’s going on!”

The Doctor’s Son

My parents moved to the small town Enosburg when I was still a baby. A soft-spoken man, my father settled quietly into his medical practice. Within a few months the people of Enosburg accepted him as one of their own. The neighbors greeted my father as “Doctor Eppley”. And I always was known as “Doctor Eppley’s son”.

Throughout the first years of my life, I never tired of letting others know that my father was one of the town’s most respected citizens. Somewhere in my teenage years, however, something changed. I was 16 years old and the neighbors still called me “Doctor Eppley’s son”. They said that I was growing up to be an honorable young man just like my father. I complained whenever I heard these words. So when strangers asked me if I was Doctor Eppley’s son, I replied, “My name is Harold.”

I survived my last year of high school. The next fall I went to college. I chose to attend a school far from Enosburg, a place where nobody called me “Doctor Eppley’s son” because nobody knew my father.

I returned home for winter break that year feeling proud of myself. In four months at college, I had become popular in my own right, without my father’s help.

For two weeks I enjoyed being back in Enosburg. The main topic of interest at home was my father’s new car.

“Let me take it out for a drive,” I said.

My father agreed, but not without his usual warning, “Be careful!”

“All right then,” he replied. “The keys are in the kitchen.”

I got into the car and drove a few miles and then stopped at a busy intersection in a nearby town. As I stepped on the accelerator(油门), my mind went blank, and I failed to hear the loud high noise of brakes(刹车)in front of me. I only heard a great crash as I reacted too late.

The woman in the car I had struck jumped out of her vehicle unhurt.

On hearing what I had just said, the woman gave me a smile of recognition.