Standing outside the cave entrance, Grandfather admired the green-carpeted hills, but Lin hated the cave. He had come here today only because of Grandfather.

Grandfather preferred to use guano, the waste matter of bats, to fertilize (施肥) his crops. But he was too weak to do the whole job. He could gather the guano and bring it out of the cave in the basket, but he needed Lin to carry it home in the wooden cart.

Grandfather took a shovel (铲子) and flashlight from the cart. “Change your mind and come inside with me?” he asked Lin. “It won’t happen again, Lin,” Grandfather promised. “Last time it was my mistake. We shouldn’t have waited until nearly dusk (黄昏) to go inside. I know that the bats fly out of the cave at dusk.” That was exactly what had happened on the Terrible Day of the Bats. As Lin had stood at the cave entrance, a crowd of black bats had erupted from it. Lin had been terrified.

“Bats hurt no one,” Grandfather had said. “Besides, you scared them as much as they did you.”

But nothing could make Lin forget the horror he had felt in that black cloud of bats. “I can’t go in there,” he told Grandfather now.

“OK,” Grandfather said. As he started into the cave, he called over his shoulder, “I’ll be out in no time.” Lin parked the cart and glanced at the shovel and flashlight inside it. His shovel and flashlight. He had used them before. Now they only reminded him of his fear.

Lin turned his back on the cart and walked down to the river. Grandfather would call when he was finished. Until then, Lin would put as much distance as possible between himself and the cave.

Lin watched two little birds splashing about at the edge of the river. He enjoyed the peaceful view over the vast river surface. Then Lin realized that Grandfather’s “no time” had turned into a long time.

Lin hurried up the hill toward the cave. The cart was still there. Grandfather was still inside. Something had gone wrong.

Lin looked around but found no one he could turn to for help.

In the dark cave, Lin gathered his courage and yelled again, “Grandfather!”

In 2000, when I was around seven years old, my parents, sister, brother, and I were coming back from a T-ball game one late spring afternoon. That was our usual weekend adventure in suburban Pearl River, New York, about 25 miles from New York City. But unlike other weekends, on this day a surprise was waiting in our driveway: Two adult wild geese and a gosling (幼雁). The adults were frightened by us and flew away, but their baby was too young to fly and couldn’t follow. We are no strangers to the ways of wildlife, so we knew how to avoid contact with the gosling in case it came across us and was lost to its family forever.

Hours passed, and night fell. With it came a deep chill and a fear of watchful predators (捕猎者). The tiny little thing was wandering around on the road, unaware of what could happen. It was clear that the gosling needed protection, warmth, and food to make it to the morning, so we brought him onto our back yard and setup a temporary wire fence to enclose and protect him.

We all slept with one eye open till morning. And then another morning. And another. Each day, we would try to force the goose over to his parents, who kept coming back to our yard. He wouldn’t go to them, though, and they wouldn’t come close enough to claim him. We kept this up for five days, but no luck. By then, the young goose had clearly decided we were his new family, so we had to give him a name. My eight-year-old sister, Joanna, called the little guy Peeper because he would follow us around the yard making a peeping noise, nonstop. We also decided that Peeper was a boy. I don’t know why; it just felt right.

Days turned into weeks, and weeks turned into months, until almost a year passed.

Emily White was born seventeen years ago with so many birth problems in her body. Some of her organs, bones and muscles were out of shape. No one expected her to survive. She did make it but with her strange body figure, everyone could recognize her, even from a distance.

In Emily White’s hometown, there was a yearly outdoor performance in the school auditorium (大礼堂). It had been performed for so many years and actually had become one of the most important events of the Christmas season for many of the town’s people.

Many people tried out each year for it, but so many were turned away. It can only include the most excellent people in the field.

Emily had a beautiful singing voice. Last year she went to Mrs. Owens — her music teacher to ask to join in the performance. Without letting her sing, Mrs. Owens took a look at Amy’s body and said, “Child, you just don’t fit. Everyone would stare at you and that would make you uncomfortable. It would make them uncomfortable, too.”

Without singing a single note, Emily was sent back through the door of the choral room. Hurt and upset, she decided never to try out again. But Mrs. Owens then retired.

This year, there came a new music teacher, Mr. Buttler. He heard about Emily and suggested that she have a try.

Emily didn’t want to be rejected again, so she hesitated a little about it. As Emily struggled, the door was pushed open and Mr. Buttler called, “Emily, you’re next.” Although kind of nervous, Emily did as Mr. Buttler told her to do. Mr. Buttler sat by the piano to keep Emily company. When Emily finished her testing performance, she thanked Mr. Buttler and knew the result would be posted on the door of the choral room the next day.

Emily couldn’t sleep that night. She was suffering from the feelings that she didn’t fit and the great need to be accepted. By the next morning, her stomach was even in pain because of stress.

Paragraph 1: The next day, Emily nervously glanced at the list on the door of the choral room.

Paragraph 2: Finally, the day of performance came.

Holidays are not necessarily for fun or rest. Doing something meaningful can also gain special pleasure. When the final bell rang, the students were reminded that there was no school on Monday—the Labor Day. “Enjoy your extra day off” said the teacher to her class.

An extra day off unsuited Kayla just fine. She loved breaks. She wanted to go out to play with her friends. When the school bus dropped Kayla off, she ran into the house happily.

“How was school, Kayla?” asked her mom.

“It was great, Mom. I am excited about no school on Monday.”

“You just started back to school two weeks ago. Already in need of a break, huh?” asked Kayla’s mom with a laugh.

Kayla slept in the next morning. Saturday was her favorite day of the week. I trained most of the day, so Kayla enjoyed playing videogames inside. On Sunday, her friends came over and they played basketball for several hours.

Then it was Labor Day, you know, the extra day off that Kayla was so looking forward to. But Kayla was awakened early that morning by her dad. He told Kayla that in honor of Labor Day, the family would be cleaning both inside and outside the house. Kayla couldn’t believe it. This was a holiday. A day when she was supposed to be enjoying freshly squeezed lemonade while playing in her tree house. As Kayla wiped here yes, she began to wonder if this was just a bad dream.

“Kayla, your breakfast is ready. We have a lot of work to do today. Let’s get a move on,” said Kayla’s mom. As she sat down at the kitchen table, Kayla asked her parents，

“Are you serious about working today? Isn’t Labor Day a holiday?”

“Yes, Kayla. It is,” replied her dad. “But your mom and I thought working hard today would make you appreciate why Labor Day was observed in the first place.”

At first Kayla felt disappointed at her parents’ plan for the holiday.

But things began to change as she was doing the chores.