Susie Smith came home from school one day, and had no sooner entered the sitting room than she burst into tears.

“What is the matter, my dear child?” said her mother, drawing her daughter to her side and smiling.

“All our class must bring in compositions tomorrow morning, and I never, never can write one. We must write twelve lines at least, and I have written only a few words after trying nearly all the afternoon. See what work I have made of it!” sobbed Susie.

Mrs. Smith took the rumpled (皱巴巴的) and tear-stained paper which Susie held in her hand, and glanced at what she had written. In a careful hand she had tried to write upon three themes: Time, Temperance, and Industry.

Time is short. We should all improve our time.

Temperance is a very useful thing.

We should all be industrious if we wish to do anything in the world.

These sentences were all she had written. Susie continued, “I can’t think of another word to say upon any of these subjects, and I know I shall have to go to school without a composition, for I won’t be so mean as to copy one from a book, or to ask you or papa to write one for me.”

“That is right, my dear,” said her mother. “You will be far happier with a poor composition, if it is all your own, than with a fine one written by somebody else. But cheer up. You have not begun right—you have been trying to write upon subjects that you know nothing about. Run into the garden and play. I will call you in half an hour.” “But my composition,” began Susie. “Don’t think about your composition while you are gone,” said Mrs. Smith, “but have as pleasant a time as you can.”

It seemed but a few minutes to Susie before she heard her mother’s voice calling her. She went into the house at once—her hands full of sweet flowers, and her cheeks rosy with exercise. “Now, Susie,” said her mother, “I want you to sit by the window with this nice sheet of paper and a pencil, and write something about what you can see.”

“But my composition, mother,” said Susie, “when shall I begin that?” “Never mind your composition, my dear. Do this to please me, and we will talk about that by and by.” replied Mrs. Smith.

Susie thought her mother’s request was a strange one.

“A composition!” exclaimed Susie. “Is that a composition?”

In our family, we have a beloved pet named Max, a golden retriever (寻回犬) with a heart of gold. Max has been an integral part of our family for the past five years, bringing joy, laughter, and countless precious memories into our lives. His intelligence and adorable personality never fail to bring joy and laughter into our lives. Every day, when I come home from school, Max greets me at the door with his tail wagging and his eyes sparkling with excitement. He always seems to know when I need a comforting presence, and his playful bahavior never fails to cheer me up.

Max’s intelligence is truly remarkable. He has learned numerous tricks and commands over the years, and he never ceases to amaze us with his problem-solving skills. One time, I accidentally dropped his favorite toy behind the couch, and without any prompting (提示), Max fetched a stick and used it to fish the toy out. His creativity and resourcefulness never fail to impress us.

Max’s playful personality brings endless joy and laughter into our family. Whether we are flying disc in the backyard or going for walks in the park, Max is always ready for a good time. His boundless energy and enthusiasm are contagious (有感染力的), and he has a way of making even the simplest activity feel like an adventure. His playful barks and exaggerated jumps when he’s trying to catch a ball never fail to make us laugh.

Max’s ability to sense our emotions and respond with love and affection is truly remarkable. He seems to know when we are feeling down or stressed and always finds a way to comfort us. One warm summer evening, as the sun was beginning to set, I was sitting comfortably in my living room, buried in a captivating book. Max, my loyal golden retriever, was lying peacefully beside me, enjoying a well-deserved nap. However, as the day drew to a close, Max suddenly sprang to his feet, his ears got a lift, and his eyes fixed intently on something outside the window. Without warning, he let out a series of loud, urgent barks, as if trying to alert me to a potential threat or disturbance. Alarmed by his sudden outburst, I set my book aside and joined Max at the window, curious to see what had caught his attention.

As I approached the window, I witnessed my elderly neighbor, Mr. Thompson, lying motionless in his backyard.

In the days following Mr. Thompson’s accident, Max and I visited him at the hospital as often as we could.

As Valentine’s Day, a time for expressing affection through the exchange of presents, drew near, Kendra found herself seated at the kitchen table, carefully penning her name on Valentine’s cards for her classmates. She recognized her own hesitation; words didn’t come easily to her. While she envied the ease with which her peers talked and laughed, her shyness often kept her quiet.

Kendra grabbed another card. . Her eyes lit up at the phrase “You’re dynamite (引起轰动的人或物)!”—a term that would undoubtedly delight her Grammy, who frequently used the expression to praise their festive decorations. “Well, that looks dynamite!” Grammy would exclaim, her approval filling Kendra with warmth.

Just as Kendra was signing the cards, her mother came in, sharing the sad news of Elise, their neighbor, and her recent accident that led to a broken leg, restricting her to home schooling for the coming weeks. Kendra felt sorry for Elise, and quickly picked the most splendid valentine, hurrying to Elise’s home.

Upon arrival, Kendra’s look fell upon the life-sized deer statue decorating the front yard. She studied it, saying to herself, “Wouldn’t this deer look cool with a big heart around his neck? Elise could look out of the window and see it decorated for Valentine’s day.”

With this idea, Kendra got the sizable red heart her Grammy had given her, tied it with string, and hung it around the statue’s neck like a festive chain. The next day, she decorated the antlers (鹿角) with a variety of smaller hearts. It was during this act of kindness that Colin and Amy, Elise’s fellow classmates, happened upon the scene. “Are you decorating Elise’s deer for Valentine’s Day?” they asked. Kendra confirmed with a nod, explaining her intention to cheer up Elise. Despite her uncertainty about what to add next, Colin proposed adding some color, while Amy suggested putting decorations on the deer’s back and forehead. United by a shared purpose, they agreed to meet later.

That afternoon, they met to decorate the deer with the materials they had sourced.

Just then, Elise’s front door opened, and Elise stuck her head out.

It was after midnight last December and we were driving home from a party. The weather had been awful, with the rain pouring on our 40-minute journey there. Paul, my husband, was driving our Ford Ranger pick-up truck and my seven-year-old son, Silas, was in the back.

What was so frightening was the speed of water. One minute we were halfway home, the next there was water going up over the bonnet (汽车引擎盖). The rushing water lifted our car up and pushed it back against a hedge (树篱). I felt terrified of the power of the water, and Paul was trying to control the truck.

Water was instantly around my ankles. I reached my hand back and felt it around Silas’s too. Paul climbed out through a window, at which point Silas woke up, confused. I managed to pass him through the window to Paul, who was now on the truck’s roof.

Paul told me I needed to get out, but I couldn’t open my door. I attempted to push my body through the driver’s window and was left clinging on to the support between the windows. Paul grabbed my hood (兜帽) to help in vain and I could hear Silas crying, so I told him to let go—Silas needed him. He refused, but I insisted—I wanted to know Silas would be safe. As I saw his empty, outstretched hand, the water took me away. I was a strong swimmer but I had no option but to shoot down rapids. Shocked, I gasped for breath and tried to keep my head above water.

It was extremely dark but I could just make out trees. As I passed, I reached out and grabbed two slim branches, holding tightly. I hugged the tree with my knees. My plan was just to hold on. Not knowing if Paul and Silas were safe, I thought that if they did survive, they would try to save me. I wondered who would come to my rescue.

After nearly 40 minutes, I saw a small boat spotlight.

As I rose to my feet, I hugged my rescuers.

As my mom says, love is simple. There came a time in my life, over two years ago, when I had the desire to impact someone’s life positively. My friend Kelley told me about a volunteer trip she had taken to Gary, West Virginia, and it was a life-changing experience. After looking into service opportunities, I signed up to take a volunteer trip to Gary.

Volunteer trips have become increasingly popular among young people seeking meaningful experiences. They gain access to a wide range of volunteer projects concerning various fields such as education, environmental conservation, community development, and more.

When we arrived in Gary, I noticed how different the town was from where I lived. Houses were built on little hills. There were few stores or restaurants in town; most had closed. You were lucky to find a gas station or grocery store.

My job was to help build a new school. The work days were long and hot. We awoke at 6 a. m. and worked through the day in 90 degree heat. There were always encouraging people by my side who helped keep me going. Anyway, it was an unforgettable experience.

Then last summer, I decided to challenge myself by taking a volunteer trip abroad with some other volunteers and taking up meaningful volunteer work in a foreign community. My destination was a remote village in Honduras, a country in Central America. I wanted to teach science to the poor children there.

Eager to participate, I talked to my parents, but they didn’t say yes at first.

Then we wasted no time in getting ready for our science teaching.

Rudi Gonsalves could barely contain his excitement as he sped downhill. It was the first day of his holiday in the Romanian ski resort of Poiana Brasov and he was 6,000 feet up one of its highest mountains, breathing in the cleanest air.

Weather and snow conditions were perfect. An experienced skier, he tackled the difficult “black” run with ease, knees gently bent to meet the uneven surface of the snow.

Rudi, a part-time youth worker from Epsom Downs, Surrey, regularly booked a winter holiday with his wife Sue. But Sue was scared of heights and could not overcome her sense of foreboding as the skiing season approached.

So this time Rudi, a keen sportsman and fit for his 57 years, had come alone.

As he snaked his way down the mountain on that March afternoon last year, snowflakes began to fall—lightly at first, then more heavily until the clouds blotted out the sun entirely, transforming everything into a ghostly whiteness.

He could just make out other skiers descending the slopes as fast as they could. I’d better stay close to them for safety, he decided. This could be tricky.

Straining to see ahead, Rudi was only vaguely aware of a looming outline lumbering up the mountain.

“Did anyone see me fall? Where am I?”

He looked around him, trying to get his bearings, but in every direction there was only the same vast whiteness.

Then he took out his gold watch, a treasured present from his wife. It not only told him the time, 1.54pm, it also seemed to give him strength.

It was getting dark when Rudi finally gave up his attempt to scale the mountain and decided to head downhill instead. He knew it would mean moving away from the best route back to his hotel, but there seemed to be no alternative.

Despair began to dog Rudi as he faced up to the reality of spending a night in the open. It was 5.30 pm and the temperature was dropping fast. He began to shiver, his teeth chattering uncontrollably. He felt very alone.

After three hours he was very tired, colder than he had ever felt.

He was barely aware of two horses drawing a wagon along the lane towards him.

As a child, I distinctly remembered watching some PBS cartoon character get glasses; the poor girl was made fun of by her peers when playing basketball. I silently thanked God for my good eyesight — but I spoke too soon.

When I entered the sixth grade, I could no longer see writing on the whiteboard clearly. So, I received my first pair of glasses. I only wore them in the classroom, and didn’t mind them too much. Self-image was not important for the then little girl.

Entering my freshman year in high school, I began to miss basketball shots in games — more so than usual. My eyes were re-examined, and the doctor determined that my eyesight had become worse. I would either have to wear glasses full time, or try contacts (隐形眼镜). Being the passionate athlete I was, I bypassed the annoyance of glasses and began to wear contacts. My entire world was transformed. Trees actually had leaves. The faces around me radiated individual expressions. And I could see the basket a whole lot better now. I was overjoyed with my newfound sight — and appearance.

When my senior year came along, I began to have trouble with my right eye. It got to the point where whenever I wore my contacts, my right eye would suffer an intolerable, stabbing pain, forcing me to take the contacts out. It was physically impossible to wear them. I would be in the doctor’s office at least three times a month, trying to solve the mystery of the problem with my eye.

I was beginning to get frustrated. I didn’t mind wearing my glasses to see the board in school, but all the time? At dances? At basketball games? No. That was not okay with me. I couldn’t imagine how I would be laughed at by my peers on the court. I hoped and prayed the doctor would cure my illness soon. That hope was soon crushed. No medicine had worked, and there was nothing left to try. He advised that I wear my glasses full time. But I couldn’t hate my glasses more.

Whenever someone walked up to me, I would immediately be seized by embarrassment.

However, a kind girl named Anne also with glasses in the basketball team made me feel better.