I was doing homework with my friend Ollie at his home when he randomly started scribbling (乱画) a fish. But not just any fish. This fish was riding a skateboard and blowing a bubble that said “I’d rather be skating!”I laughed and drew a sea star saying “Quit fooling around and get to work!”

Just then, Ollie’s grandma Abuela and her friend Mr. Goldberg came into the kitchen. Mr. Goldberg was in charge of the local animal shelter. Abuela poured their tea and inquired about how things were going at the animal shelter. Mr. Goldberg sighed, shaking his head. He explained that not enough people were adopting pets, resulting in too many animals without homes.

Overhearing the conversation, Ollie offered to adopt some excitedly. But Abuela said that one noisy parrot was plenty for this house.

“Blue isn’t noisy,” defended Ollie. “He’s just musical.”

“I’d have a whole farm full of animals if I could,” I said. “But my parents say two cats and a hamster (仓鼠) are enough.”

Mr. Goldberg said he kept trying to attract people to adopt animals, but found it hard to get people’s attention these days. Ollie drew a sad whale, and I wrote the words “Please adopt me” in the shape of a whale spout (喷水). Mr. Goldberg took a look at our drawings and made favorable comments on them, saying that these clever talking animals just might grab people’s attention. And he asked us if we were willing to design a poster for his animal shelter, a proposal we happily accepted. We decided to draw some ideas on our own and meet up again the next afternoon.

That night, when I was sitting in the living room brainstorming ideas for the poster, my little brother brought in our hamster, Mr. Nibbles, to give him a little run-around time. He made a hamster playground out of couch pillows and Mr. Nibbles began to run around merrily.

Suddenly, an idea formed in my mind.

We decided to make both Mr. Nibbles and Blue the stars of the poster.

6 . Those who had the pleasure of watching Benny Goodman at work saw a rather ordinary-looking man in rimless glasses and a conservative business suit; but they also saw a human being who could play the clarinet(单簧管) like no one before or since. This made Benny Goodman a unique individual.

Other Americans who have stood out from the flock include Joe DiMaggio, Beverly Sill, Ernest Hemingway and Jonas Salk. They, like Benny Goodman, were recognized and honored for no other reason than excellence.

It is doing something better than other people that makes us unique. Yet a surprising number of people still see individuality as a surface thing. They wear garish clothes, dye their hair strange colors and decorate their skin with tattoos to make some kind of social statement. But an ordinary guy who has dyed his hair purple or orange is nothing more than the same person with a funny-looking head.

The whole purpose of individuality is excellence. Those who invent, who improvise(即兴发挥), who know more about a subject than other people do, and who take something that doesn’t work and make it work––these people are the very soul of capitalism.

Charles Kettering didn’t like the idea of cranking a car to make it start, so he invented the electric starter. Henry Ford figured out the assembly-line technique and made it possible to mass-produce automobiles, and Elisha Otis, inventor of the elevator, indirectly created the city sky-line. These people understood that individualism means working at the top of one’s capacity.

The ones with the purple hair and the funky jewelry are just along for the ride, trying to be “different” and not knowing how to go about it.

The student who earns straight A’s on his report card has grasped the idea and has found the real meaning of individuality. So has the youngster who has designed his own spaceship, who gives piano recitals, who paints pictures of the world around him.

Benny Goodman understood it too. This is why he was at his best, blowing his clarinet, in a blue suit and black shoes.

9 . My mom loved to pass her wisdom to me: ”Nothing beats a good bite that bites back.” She was referring to her bitter-taste foods like dill pickles and rhubarb (大黄叶). But I was not a big fan.

Three years ago, I finally decided to ask if I could ________ out her rhubarb while weeding the garden. “________ not!” Mom gasped, throwing me a(n) ________ look. Clearly, I had underestimated her________ for it. However, as I continued ________, I thought about how rhubarb is one of the first to appear in spring. It ________ the snowy ground before the arrival of other plants. How can anyone fail to ________ it? When those first sprouts (嫩芽) appeared, Mom would count them like a ________ counting a newborn’s fingers and toes.

When I was a kid and my mom gave me that pie, it made me ________ to try. In my teens, it made me complain about the bitterness. Even ice cream or candies did not ________ the deal for my young taste buds (味蕾). Rhubarb was something to be ________ at all costs.

Then, last summer, I came across the ________ for her rhubarb pie in an old drawer. So I decided to give it a ________. A few attempts later, I served rhubarb pie to family and guests. All agreed, including me, that it tasted incredible.

Since then I’ve come to a ________ about rhubarb. Rhubarb’s taste may be lost on children, but adults can________ it. Like my wise mother, I now understand that “Nothing beats a good bite that bites back.”

In our weekly staff meeting, our editor Ashley was not pleased with the quality of our reporting. “Our readership is way down. We need better stories for this Thursday’s school newspaper. Does anybody have any ideas?” she said.

I handed her my article about our basketball team beating Deerfield High School the previous night by one point. “Sports stories are fun,” she said, “but not good enough for the front page. We need something to really get people ‘s attention.”

After our meeting, we left the newsroom together and heard someone screaming, “Perry is missing!” Perry was a big red parrot and had been our school mascot (吉祥物) for ten years. He played an important role in students’ lives, both in and out of class. He had also been a constant presence at school events, inspiring a sense of unity among students.

Everyone gathered around Perry’s empty cage, heartbroken. Suddenly, a student from the crowd came over and showed me a photo. “You’re a reporter for the school paper, right? I happened to take this yesterday,” he said. In the photo was a Deerfield High School basketball player with something large hidden under his shirt around the size of a parrot.

“He must have stolen Perry to get back at us for winning the game!” Ashley cried. We hurried back to the newsroom, agreeing to run the photo on the front page with the headline “Deerfeld Stole Perry.” “This is just the story we need. Everyone will read it,” Ashley said confidently.

After she left, I took a closer look at the photo. The clock in the background read 4:15 pm, but our game against Deerfield hadn’t started until 4:30 pm. Why would the boy have taken Perry before we even played? An uneasy feeling came over me that we might have falsely accused someone.

I went to Perry’s usual caretaker to ask if he knew Perry was missing. ”He’s not missing. He’s retired. He’s ready for some quieter days,“ he said. Learning the truth, I immediately told Ashley and suggested writing a story to say goodbye to Perry.

To my surprise, Ashley insisted on reporting the “Deerfield Stole Perry” story.

On Thursday, the paper came out with the headline “Bye-Bye, Perry” on the front page.