Yoghurt

It was a rough week. The price of oil skyrocketed as the temperature dropped sharply in Maine. We were looking at a high of eight degrees that week, and I had missed three days of work so my paycheck was going to be lower than normal. I was stressed, to say the least. I shopped strategically, looking for every possible way to cut pennies so I could buy groceries and keep the house warm.

My eight-year-old son didn't understand when I told him we were struggling that week. He wanted a special kind of yoghurt, but I didn't have the extra three dollars to buy it for him. It was the kind of yoghurt with a cartoon kid riding a skateboard on the front of the box, and a mere two spoonfuls in each cup. It was the kind of product that wastes a parent's money and makes me hate advertising.

I felt guilty as a parent when those big eyes looked at me with confusion, as if to say, “It's just yoghurt. What's the big deal?” So I found a way. I put something back as single mothers often do. He got his yoghurt.

On the way driving back from the grocery store, I noticed a homeless man holding a sign by the side of the road. My heart hurt, and I tried not to look at him. I watched people stay away from him on the street and walk by without even meeting his eyes. My son didn't seem to care much, either. I looked at the man closely then — bare hands grasping a piece of cardboard, snot frozen to his face, a worn-out jacket. And there I was struggling because I had to buy oil and groceries. But I decided to help. I pulled over to the man and handed him a five-dollar bill.

Seeing this, my son became confused and surprised.

On that day, my son performed an act that most adults wouldn’t have done.

Her name was Mrs. Thompson. And as she stood in front of the 5th grade class on the very first day she looked at her students and said that she loved them all the same. But that was impossible because there in the front row was a little boy named Teddy Stoddard. Mrs. Thompson had watched Teddy the year before and noticed that he didn't play well with the other children, that his clothes were messy and that he constantly needed a bath. She paid no attention to Teddy.

However, when she read his file, she was in surprise. Teddy's first grade teacher wrote, "Teddy is a bright child with a ready laugh. He does his work neatly and has good manners...he is a joy to be around." His second grade teacher wrote, "Teddy is an excellent student, well liked by his classmates. But he is troubled because his mother has a deadly illness and life at home must be a struggle." His third grade teacher wrote, "His mother's death has been hard on him. He tried to do his best but his father doesn't show much interest." Teddy's fourth grade teacher wrote, "Teddy is withdrawn and doesn't show much interest in school. He doesn't have many friends and sometimes sleeps in class.” By now, Mrs. Thompson realized the problem and she was ashamed of herself. She thought that she could make a difference.

She felt even worse when her students brought her Christmas presents, wrapped in beautiful paper and tied with pretty ribbons, except for Teddy's. His present was clumsily wrapped in the heavy, brown paper that he got from a grocery bag. Mrs. Thompson opened it in the middle of the other presents. Some of the children stared to laugh when she found a stone bracelet(手镯)with some of the stones missing, and a bottle that was one-quarter full of perfume.

Mrs. Thompson, her voice choked up with tears, thanked her students for their presents.

Ten years later, Teddy invited Mrs. Thompson to attend his wedding as groom's mother.

Whether we notice it or not, our child is a little reflection of ourselves. They grow up looking more and more like us. They even have similar personalities and hobbies. And in some cases, the standard of choosing a good friend.

One day, my 10-year-old Jane said, “Mom, I made a new friend at school today. Can she come over tomorrow?” Her words made me extremely happy because Jane was a shy girl and I wanted her to make some friends to bring her out of her shell.

“Sure, honey, that sounds great.” I said, thinking back to my own childhood best friend, Susan. We lived across the street from each other in Washington Heights, New York. We met at the age of 10, too. Like my daughter.   I was shy and had trouble making friends. But Susan drew me out. She was one of the friendliest people in school, with shiny black hair and a mile-wide smile. Thanks to Susan. I was happy every day.

In senior high school, Susan went on a trip to Florida. This was the first time we had to be away from each other for a few days. “I’ll be back soon and I will write to you as soon as I arrive.” she told me. But I didn’t get her phone call nor receive any mail from her. Soon, my family moved to New Jersey, making my hope of seeing Susan impossible.

Whenever I thought of him, tears came into my eyes.

The next day Jane brought her new friend home. “Hi, Mrs. Smith.” the little girl said. Her hair was so shiny and black and she gave me a big smile. “My name is Jo. My mom will pick me up 2 hours later.”

I was puzzled because my daughter’s new friend looked so familiar.

Two hours passed really quickly, and there was a knock on the door.

With the development of the Internet, more and more people turn to it instead of newspapers for information. _____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

9 . Tchaikovsky, a famous Russian composer of the late-Romantic period, was born on 7 May 1840 in the mountains of western Russia. He was the first Russian composer whose music made a lasting impression internationally. Tchaikovsky’s training set him on a path to combine what he had learned with the native musical practices to which he had been exposed from childhood. He first helped write a song in 1844, at an age when most children are still in kindergarten. At home, his mother sang folk songs, which helped develop his interest in music. Mozart was Tchaikovsky’s favourite composer and he influenced Tchaikovsky’s life and work. For 11 years, beginning in 1866, Tchaikovsky taught at the Moscow School of Music. During his time there, he wrote music for the piano, along with ballets, operas and symphonies. He was famous for writing the music for the ballet Swan Lake in 1876. Because of his musical talent, Tchaikovsky toured many countries as a conductor, including a voyage to the USA in 1891. He continued to write for the ballet until his death in Saint Petersburg in 1893.