Some kids play sports. They run hundreds of laps, and tackle, kick, or swing. Some kids do makeover parties. They pool their fashion magazines and organize their own spa hair salons. And some kids are computer geeks. Their programming ability is a thing of wonder.

Me? I had the spelling bee (拼字比赛). The bee was my World Series. And what happened during a Spelling Bee remained fresh in my memory.

I trained every day on my front steps after school, the dictionary pages rippling softly in the breeze. I formed a habit carrying around my buddies Longman, Webster, and Oxford.

As soon as I opened my eyes on Friday morning, I felt the hairs on my arm stand up. I glanced at my alarm clock—it was only 6:27. I usually woke up at 7:01, which meant I had an extra thirty-four minutes to study. Starting with the word “judgment” which I always spelt as “J-U-D-G-M-A-N-T”, I went over several words.

To calm my butterflies in my stomach, I reminded myself that I was one of the best spellers in my class. I was not ambitious enough to want to go to the Scripps National Spelling Bee or anything—I just wanted to win the bee at Meadowbrook Middle School, so that I could defeat my main enemy, Nathan Fortescue.

Nathan thought he was a better speller than I was, but he didn’t even study words. He just read tons of science and math books. Really, he wasn’t a speller at heart—he was a mathematician. Nathan and I had nothing in common except being good spellers, but since he was a good speller without even trying, it didn’t count. I bet if you gave Nathan a modern literature word like “denouement”, he’d be out on the first round.

The Spelling Bee wasn’t until after lunch, so all I did in the morning was stare at the clock and wondered how seconds could possibly pass by so slowly. I sneaked away from lunch early so I could get in a few extra minutes of study time.

As soon as I shut the classroom door behind me, I heard a voice.

“Now it’s time for the Spelling Bee!” Ms. Hawking said brightly.

The newfound team, now officially known as the Wildcats, started their basketball journey with a mix of eagerness and anxiety. The community center’s basketball court became their arena (竞技场), a place where failures were just stepping stones to success, and every dribble (运球), pass, and shot was a lesson in disguise.

Under Mr. Jordan’s guidance, practices became more than just learning how to play basketball; they were about discovering the strengths within and the power of unity. He had an approach to seeing the potential in every player.

One afternoon, as the team gathered around Mr. Jordan, he introduced a new drill that focused on passing and communication. “Basketball is a language,” he explained. “If you can’t communicate, you can’t win. This drill will help you understand each other without words. ”

The drill was a disaster at first. Passes went wrong, and frustration mounted. Jasmine’s quick passes were too swift for Mia, and Lucas’s attempts at humor during the drill only led to more confusion. Eli, ever the observer, noticed the tension and suggested a simple system of hand signals they had discussed in a previous practice. Gradually, the team began to find their rhythm, learning to anticipate each other’s moves and communicate more effectively.

It wasn’t just basketball skills that the Wildcats were developing; it was a sense of belonging and trust in one another. Each practice ended with a team gathering, where Mr. Jordan shared stories from his coaching days, emphasizing the lessons learned from losses more than wins.

At Piedmont Middle School, a kid could run track or play tennis, but everyone wanted to be on the soccer team. Piedmont and the surrounding towns were pretty small, so instead of having separate girls and boys teams, each school had one team made up of both girls and boys. Laura had dreamed of earning glory for the team Los Halcones ever since the first grade when her older brother Toni won in the county middle school championship. Now he was away at college on a soccer scholarship. The day she joined the team as a sixth-grader, she felt like she could fly.

But, unfortunately, her joy didn’t last. She spent most of the season on the bench.

Walking to the car after the last game of the season, Laura tried to smile at her mother. Having spent yet another game sitting on the bench, Laura hadn’t even broken a sweat. “Well, at least you don’t have to wash my uniform,” she joked, but she could feel tears in her eyes. Her mother said, “You still have chances. Don’t lose heart. Toni once made the same mistake. And now you can watch soccer videos to learn more skills when sitting there.” Laura could only shake her head.

Lying in bed that night, Laura thought back to her first game, the day of her huge mistake.

“Pass, pass, pass!”

“Clear that ball!”

Voices yelled from every side. Laura ran nervously in front of the goal (球门) as both teams rushed down the field. She knew the children in green were her teammates. Those in blue were on the other team. At that time, a boy on the opposing team had the ball when a battle for that ball broke out a few feet from her. Green and blue uniforms swirled (打转) around her, and Laura could barely keep track of the ball. Then, suddenly, it came her way!

“Laura, I’m open!” one of her teammates called from near the sideline. Then Laura kicked the ball.

But the ball went in the completely wrong direction!

Sitting on the bench for game after game, Laura decided to tell Toni that she wanted to quit.

The boiling hot sun beamed onto us as we walked out for the state-cup finals. The mix of excitement and nervousness created tension in the air as everyone walked out onto the football field. I could feel my heart pounding everywhere in my body as both teams lined up.

Starting midfield, like always. 90-minute game, like always. But this was the most extraordinary stage we’ve ever played on. All parents of us were invited to watch the match. As we got ready for kickoff, fear took over my body. Coach says confidence is the biggest part of the game, but for me, it’s my biggest enemy.

My thoughts were interrupted as the high-pitched whistle stabbed my ears, and the game began. The ball came straight to me. I drove forward, slipped around a defender (后卫), and lost it. On the very next play, I gave it straight away again. I could feel my confidence just seeping away. I told myself I wouldn’t lose it again.

“Come on, Aidan, keep the ball!” shouted Griffin, my teammate. It wasn’t mean or anything. We’ve known each other for years and played together for a long time. But it was not helping. I just played it safe next time and passed it back. Barely even on target, I was losing it. I could feel our coach, Caden’s eyes burning into the back of my head.

“Aidan, stay out wide on the start and get up that field. You’ve done it before, it’s coming to you on this kickoff. Use your speed.” once again shouted Griffin. But I didn’t feel fast enough. I felt like there were rocks tied to my ankles when I ran.

The whistle blew twice for halftime. The score was still 0-0. It was a bad game on our part, sun peeked through my hair into my eyes. My mouth was as dry as a desert.

“Are you OK?” Griffin passed me a bottle of water.

Exchanging a high-five with the coach, we walked back onto the field.

“Swimmers, take your marks!”

A beep signaled the start of the race, Tara dove into the pool, beginning her first IM (个人混合泳).Despite being a strong swimmer, the thought of the IM had made her nervous all morning. Butterfly, backstroke, breaststroke (蛙泳), and freestyle. She’d been repeating the order in her head all morning, but had messed it up several times in practice.

Tara burst through the water, starting with the butterfly stroke. Soon, she touched the wall and made a swift turn, pushing off hard. She did one frog kick and drew her arms under the water for the breaststroke, then quickly turned over to her back. Butterfly, backstroke, breaststroke, freestyle. She knew the order, but she’d messed up again. Had the officials seen her mistake?

Tara smoothly completed her backstroke lap, then the breaststroke. She moved ahead, and kept the lead through the freestyle lap, scoring a comfortable win. She looked up at the scoreboard. The results listed her as the winner. Would that hold up after her mistake?

A few minutes later, the announce r read the results. Tara had been disqualified, meaning she’d scored none for her team. “Butterfly, backstroke, breaststroke, freestyle, I knew the order” Tara muttered as she prepared for the final relay.

Each of the four relay members would complete one lap of the 25-meter pool, and all would swim freestyle. As the final swimmer, Tara had an opportunity to make up for the disqualification.

The first swimmers for each team were lined up at the end of the pool, shaking out their arms and legs as they loosened up. Tara reached her arms to the sides and gently swung them. All set, she thought.

Tara’s teammates swam well. After two lengths of the pool, they had a small lead. But the third swimmer fell back a bit. As the leader approached the wall, Tara’s teammate Hannah was slightly behind. “Come on, come on!” Tara whispered. She leaned forward, ready to spring as soon as Hannah touched the wall.

Soon after the leader dived into the pool, Tara did too.

Tara looked at her teammates, who were celebrating their second-place finish.

My aunt Helen is an expert on baseball. She is the one who taught me how to play well either as a pitcher (投手) or a batter (击球手). Also, she has always kept me spellbound by her stories of playing baseball as a batter in the 1940s — she was really good at swinging the bat. I love listening to her baseball story over and over. She always says, “Go after what you want. Don’t be afraid of failing. That was exactly what I did when I was young.”

And this is how her story goes.

In 1943, she was one of the young women trying out for the All-American Girls Professional Baseball League which was created to entertain baseball fans because many of America’s young men were fighting in World War Ⅱ.

Aunt Helen had heard rumors that a team would play right in South Bend, Indiana. She dreamed of what it would be like to win a championship for her hometown! She imagined a large flag hanging at the baseball field, and on it the name Helen Baker would be there for all to see.

On the day of the tryouts, Aunt Helen played baseball for hours with many young women. For this new league, some of the rules were different from the rules for regular soft ball. They still used a standard soft ball, but the bases (垒) and pitcher’s mound (投球区土墩) were placed at longer distances, for example.

About a week later, Aunt Helen collected the mail and found an envelope with her name written in blue ink. The envelope was postmarked from Chicago, in which the letter was from the leaders of the girls’ baseball league! Wild with joy, Aunt Helen tore it open and learned that she had been invited to the league’s main tryouts!

But as the days went by, Aunt Helen became worried about traveling to Chicago. “What if I went all that way and failed?” She asked her father as usual, hesitation clear in her tone. When the day of the tryouts was drawing near, she was too afraid to go.

Paragraph 1: She locked herself in the bedroom for most of the day.

Paragraph 2: “Helen Baker!” Her name was called and it was her turn to try out.

At Piedmont Middle School, a kid could run track or play tennis, but everyone wanted to be on the soccer team. Laura had dreamed of earning glory for the Falcons ever since the first grade, when her older brother Toni scored the winning goal in the county middle school championship. The day she joined the team as a sixth-grader, she felt like she could fly.

But, unfortunately, her joy didn’t last. She spent most of the season on the bench. It was all because of the huge mistake she made in her first game. She passed the ball in the completely wrong direction! Straight to an enemy in blue, who quickly shot it into the corner of the net, scoring. The coach benched Laura for the rest of the game. When the Falcons lost 1-0,she was crushed.

Now that the season was over, she just wanted to forget about soccer. She clearly wasn’t good enough to play with the Falcons, and that was that.

A few days later, Laura’s mother found her lying on the sofa, watching music videos on her . phone.

“You’d be better off praticing,” her mother said.

“What for?” Laura said, rolling her eyes. “It won’t help me. I need someone to watch me and tell me how I can improve. I can’t get better by myself.”

Sighing, her mom sank down on the sofa. “Laura, for every lock, there is a key. We just have to find it.”

After a moment, she added, “What if I film you during practice to help you find ways to improve?”

“But the season’s over, Mom. No more practice, remember?”

“The best players keep practicing even when the season’s over,” her mother said. “You remember Toni spending all summer bouncing a ball off his head in the driveway. He used to run ten miles a day in the Arizona summer sun. You think he did that for fun?“

“But to practice plays I need at least one other person,” Laura protested.

Her mother patted her on the knee. “We’ll find that key, too,” she said.

The next morning, Laura’s mother shook her awake early, “Come on, Laura; it’ s soccer time.”

When the next season came around, Laura was ready.

It was the first swim meet of the year for our newly formed middle-school swimming team. The atmosphere during the three-hour bus journey was filled with anticipation as the group of forty-eight young teenagers thought of nothing but victory. However, the excitement turned into shock as our kids got off the bus and stared in disbelief at their muscle-filled Greek-god-like opponents.

The coach checked the schedule “Surely there has been a mistake,” he thought. But the schedule only confirmed that this was the right location and time.

The two teams formed a line on the side of the pool. Whistles blew, races were started and races were lost. Haifway through the meet, coach Huey realized that there were no participants for one of the events.

“Okay kids, who want to swim the five-hundred-yard freestyle?” the coach asked. Several bands shot up, including Justin’s “I’ll race, coach!” he shouted. The coach looked down at the youngest boy and said, “Justin, this race covers twenty lengths of the pool. I’ve only seen you swum eight”.

“I can do it. Coach. Let me try,” Justin insisted . Coach Huey hesitantly agreed. ”After all, “be thought,” it’s not the winning but the effort and determination that build character.“

The whistle blew and the opponents rushed through the water and finished the race in just six minutes and fifty seconds. The winners gathered on the sidelines to socialize while our group struggled to finish. After three more minutes. the last exhausted (筋疲力尽的) members of our team came out from the water-except for Justin.

Justin was stealing breaths as his hands slapped against the water, pushing i: aside to push his thin body forward. It appeared that he might go under at any minute, yet something seemed to keep pushing him forward.

“Why doesn’t the coach intervene?” the parents whispered among themselves. “It looks like he’s about to drown, and the race was over four minutes ago.”

Approaching Justin, the coach noticed the determination in the young swimmer’s eyes.

Touched by the scene, members of the opposing team also cheered Justin as he continued to swim.

Running has always been a big part of my life. It was an easy and cheap way to stay healthy when I was a teenager and at university. As I got older, I kept running though I took on the responsibilities of being a mom, having a job and other hobbies. Running was a fun activity that I could do quickly and then get back to my busy day.

When I moved to a new city, I was excited about trying new foods, visiting new places, meeting new people and having new experiences. But, I also felt lonely and really wanted to make new friends. I joined a book club and a dinner group. But after a few months, I still felt like I hadn’t made any close friends.

One day, someone asked me if I wanted to run in a half marathon. Without thinking, I said, “Sure, count me in!” A half marathon is 13.1 miles, which is a lot longer than the three miles I usually ran. I was a bit scared, but also excited.

After the shock wore off, I started to learn everything about running a half marathon. I even bought my first pair of really good running shoes. They were the most expensive shoes I’d ever owned. I was ready to start training with them.

My new running friends picked me up at my house, and we started to jog together. I took it slow at first, running one mile, then two. They taught me how to run properly and how to drink enough water. I learned new words like chafing, carb loading, strides, and electrolytes. I slowly built up to running three, four and five miles. Running seven miles straight felt like climbing a really high mountain, and I started to love the feeling I got after a long run.

The day of the race finally came.

All the training I had done was now paying off.