Devi looked through the observation window at the kids below, all waiting in line to get into the pool. She turned to her mother with an angry frown (皱眉) on her face. “Mom, they’re all little kids! I’m 15 already! This is silly!”

“I know, Devi,” replied her mother, “but you’re a beginner, too, and you have to start somewhere!”

Devi had never been to a swimming lesson in her life. Between schoolwork and helping on her grandfather’s farm, she hadn’t had time for lessons. The closest swimming pool Devi had been to was the duck pool her mother bought her when she was five. Now that Devi was older, her mother had found a new job in the city, and Devi faced a new challenge—school field trips to the local pool.

The first day that Devi went with her class to the pool, she had no idea what she was in for. What could be so difficult about swimming? Devi confidently slid into the water and held onto the side of the pool, expecting to be able to touch the bottom with her feet. But when Devi let go of the side of the pool, she slipped under the water—the whole pool was one big deep end! Devi threw her arm toward the side of the pool and caught the ledge (池壁), out of breath. “I really can’t swim! Everyone’s going to laugh at me!” she thought to herself anxiously.

On the next field trip to the pool, Devi sat on the side on a bench (长凳), frozen with fear. She put a towel over her shoulders, too embarrassed to try again. When she came home, her mother noticed right away that Devi was upset. “Honey, I’ve signed you up for Angela’s swimming lessons at the local pool. Soon you’ll learn how to swim just like everyone else,” she comforted Devi, showing photos of Angela with her prize—winning students.

Then came the time for Devi to take her first lesson.

Soon Angela came over to where Devi sat and introduced herself.

Last Saturday, David was taking a walk in the park near his home when he noticed a woman with a boy of about eight years old. When David passed them, he heard the woman yell. “How stupid you are! You’re good at nothing.” David stopped and looked at the little boy. The boy said nothing. He just stood there, looking upset.

David was reminded of his English teacher Mrs Brown in middle school. After he entered a middle school, David lacked self-confidence because he was often made fun of by others. He was often told that he was good at nothing, which David behaved. But one day it all changed.

One day, in an English writing class, Mrs Brown asked them to read a novel. They were asked to write a new chapter of the novel after they finished reading it. A few days later, David handed in his story. He didn’t give it much thought. But the next day, to his surprise, the comment “well done” from Mrs Brown came into view the moment he turned to the page where the story was written. When David read that, he almost burst into tears. He never expected to be praised one day. He suddenly gained some self-confidence.

That day after he returned home, he wrote a short story and gave it to Mrs Brown the next morning. And again he was praised. David became very interested in writing. He often wrote short stories and asked Mrs Brown to read them improve writing skills. One year later, David joined the school newspaper and became an editor of it. He was no longer that boy who lacked self-confidence. He gained his confidence, and was hopeful about his future.

He succeeded in entering a college and kept writing. Several years after graduating from college, he had his first book published. With some more books coming out, he became famous as a writer in his country. And he owed his success to Mrs Brown’s encouragement. Without her encouragement, his life might be very different now.

Inspired by his own life story, David decided to do something for that boy.

The mother was ashamed when she heard that.

My Best Teaching Experience

Tyler was only in my senior class for a semester. He had been suspended (使停学) many times in previous years because of his anger issues. When he entered my class, I thought the worst.

Tyler sat in the back row. Every time I talked to the class, I would ask students questions, calling them by name. Unfortunately, every time I called on Tyler, he would respond with a joke. If he got an answer wrong, he would become angry.

About a month into the year, I was still trying to connect with Tyler. I can usually get students involved in class discussions or at least have them sit quietly and attentively (专心地). By contrast, Tyler was often loud and sometimes rude.

He had been in so much trouble over the years. He expected his teachers to know about his past; about how many times he had been sent to the office or suspended from school. I had found that these sorts of referrals (移交) were not very effective and that students would return from the office behaving worse than before.

One day, Tyler was talking over me while I was teaching. I stopped my lesson and said, “Tyler, why don’t you join in our discussion instead of having one of your own?” With that, he got up from his chair, pushed it over and yelled something. I can’t remember what he said other than that he included some impolite words. I sent Tyler straight to the office, and he received a week’s suspension.

To this point, this was one of my worst teaching experiences. Tyler’s anger was almost too much for me. The week Tyler was suspended from school was a wonderful time, and we got a lot accomplished as a class. However, the suspension week would soon come to an end, and I was fearful of his return.

On the day of Tyler’s return, I stood at the door awaiting him.

A spark of surprise flashed across his face.

Jenny was the only child in her family. She had a quarrel (吵架) with her mother that afternoon and she ran out of the house angrily. She couldn’t help weeping sorrowfully when she thought of the scolding from her mother. Having wandered aimlessly in the street for hours, she felt a little hungry and wished for something to eat. She stood beside a stand (货摊) for a while, watching the middle-aged seller busy doing his business. However, with no money in hand, she gave a sigh and had to leave.

The seller behind the stand noticed the young girl and asked, “Hey, girl, you want to have the noodles?”

“Oh, yes, but I don’t have money on me.” she replied.

“That’s nothing. I’ll treat you today,” said the man, “Come in.”

The seller brought her a bowl of noodles, whose smell was so attractive. As she was eating, Jenny cried silently.

“What is it?” asked the man kindly.

“Nothing. Actually, I was just touched by your kindness!” said Jenny as she wiped her tears. “Even a stranger on the street will give me a bowl of noodles, while my mother drove me out of the house. She showed no care for me. She is so merciless compared to a stranger!”

Hearing the words, the seller smiled, “Girl, do you really think so? I only gave you a bowl of noodles and you thanked me a lot. But it is your mother who has raised you since you were a baby. Can you remember the times she cooked for you? Have you expressed your gratitude to her?”

Jenny sat there, speechless and numb with shock: she remembered her mother’s familiar face and weathered hands. “Why didn’t I think of that? A bowl of noodles from a stranger made me feel grateful. Why haven’t I thanked my mum for what she has done for me?”

On the way home. Jenny made up her mind to make an apology to her mother for her rudeness as soon as she arrived home.

Nearing the doorway, Jenny took a deep breath.

At that time, her mother came back and touched her hair gently, which called her mind back.

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.

In my community, there is a little boy who suffered from congenital muscle disease. He always considered himself the most unfortunate person in the world. Although he looked no different from ordinary people, it’s difficult for him to do some delicate movements. He often lost control of his hands and dropped things on the ground. Even after a short run, he would easily get out of breath. Depression and inferiority made him almost always alone. All of these make his mother very worried.

Then one spring, the boy’s mother bought some saplings (树苗) from a nearby market. She intended to plant them in the forecourt. She told her children to plant a sapling each person. The mother said to her three children, “Whose seedling grows best, I will buy him or her a favorite gift.” The boy also wanted to get his mother’s gift. But seeing his brothers and sisters carrying water to water the trees happily, anyhow, an idea hit him: he hoped the tree he planted would die soon. So watering it once or twice, he never attended to it.

Several days later, when the little boy went to see his tree again, he was surprised to find it grew some fresh leaves instead of withering (枯萎), and compared with the trees of his brother and sister, his appeared greener and more vital. He wondered what on earth had happened. As expected, his mother kept her promise, bought the little boy his favorite gift and said to him, “From the tree you plant, you will become an outstanding botanist (植物学家) when you grow up.”

Since then, the little boy slowly became optimistic. One day, the little boy lay on the bed but couldn’t sleep. Looking at the bright moonlight outside the window, he suddenly recalled what the bi ology teacher once said, plants generally grow at night.

“Why not go to the forecourt and take a look at my tree?” he said to himself.

From that night on, he understood what his mother meant and decided to change himself.

There are many things in senior middle school that I still remember clearly. I studied three years in a country school, which is faraway. However, it has a good environment and strict but kind teachers, so I loved the school and all my teachers very much.

One Friday, just as we began to read books in reading class at our desks, our teacher, Mrs. Hill, said that she needed to be out of the classroom for a few minutes. She asked the class to read in silence while she was gone. And she said that those who didn’t read books in silence would have to be punished when she returned. It was well-known that Mrs. Hill was strict. So we had to be on our best behaviour.

But that Friday, Mrs. Hill hadn’t been gone for ten seconds before some students in the classroom started to talk. From one corner of the room I heard Josh ask Nick, “Can I trade my candies for your toy?” At the other end of the room I heard Samantha tell Kayla, “Let’s sit together on the bus for the museum field trip tomorrow.” And so it went all around me, until about half of the students communicated with each other.

After a while, I, too, forgot about Mrs. Hill’s instructions. I turned back and asked my friend Liza, “Can I borrow your storybook and keep it for a day?” As soon as the words were out of my mouth, Mrs. Hill walked into the classroom. The whole class returned to silence immediately. And we were full of fear.

Mrs. Hill slowly looked around the classroom and said, “If you were talking while I was gone, then please stand up.” The guilt (内疚) suddenly weighed heavily on me. “I shouldn’t have talked while she was not in the classroom. And now I should be honest and admit my mistake bravely. This is what my parents have always told me.” I thought. Then, I summoned up (鼓起) my courage to stand up, worried about the punishment that waited for me. Then I looked around.

To my surprise, no one followed me and I was the only one in the classroom standing.

With Mrs. Hill’s encouragement, another student stood up.

It’s hard being an astronaut’s son. I often wonder how my father ever had a son like me. I mean he’s so special and so good at everything he does. But I’m just an average eleven-year-old kid.

Nowadays I dream about being a famous writer, but I used to dream about doing something special to impress my father and make him proud of me-something like rescuing a child from a burning building.

I was dreaming in school one morning, which I often do. I was daydreaming about being some kind of hero when my friend Ellen reminded me of my English teacher’s announcement about a Father’s Day essay contest.

“I hope we have a winner right here in my English class.” she said. “There are three prizes for each of you.”

When I got home, I kissed my mom quickly. Then I went upstairs to my room and sat down with a pen and a pad of paper. I started to think about what I would write.

How did I see my father? Mmm…

I saw him teaching me how to use a bat and how to throw baseball.

I remembered how he hugged me for hours when my dog Spotty was hit and killed by a car.

And I remembered how he sat and tried to explain death to me when Grandpa Bob died.

These were the things I was going to write about my dad. To me, he wasn’t just a famous astronaut. He was my dad.

I wrote about all these memories and put them in my essay. I handed it in the next day and was surprised to find out that the winning essays would be read in the lecture hall on Thursday night. All the parents and students were invited.

My parents and I went to school Thursday night. One of our neighbors said, “I bet you’ll win the contest, David. I bet you wrote what it’s like to be the son of an astronaut, and you’re the only one in town who could write about that. ”

I shrugged and then the first winner - Ellen was announced.

The second prize winner was announced next - It was me.