When I was in middle school, my family moved to Seattle, where my parents started their new business — a small grocery store downstairs my house. As a girl of shy and reserved nature, I had to take a fresh start to fit into the challenging city life.

One sunny day, my school announced an exciting event, a talent show for the local food bank. Students were encouraged to show their unique talents in front of the public in the city hall on National Day. A sense of excitement filled the school as everyone began preparing for the big day. Deep down, I felt a spark of curiosity and a desire to participate. However, my self-doubt held me back, “I don’t have any special skills to share.”

Days turned into weeks, and the talent show drew closer. I couldn’t shake the upsetting feeling until one day Emma, one of the most popular girls in my class, came to me while I was helping in the grocery store after class. “How about singing together in the talent show?” She grinned, “I heard you singing a tune, along the way back home. I can’t help following you here.” Gosh, I couldn’t believe my ears. Emma, with personality and popularity, acknowledged my little talent. Since Emma had the world’s prettiest voice, I felt like being favoured by fortune.

“You two? The talent show for the food bank?” My mum bent towards us and her face lit up. “A big occasion.” Then a bright idea seemed to occur to her. “Why not practise right now upstairs? I bet you’ll be a perfect match.” Winking at (眨眼示意) us, she seemed to know we were thinking alike.

Emma and I practised almost every single day after school. As the days rolled by, I was feeling pretty good about our act. But the day before the performance, Emma called that she had a serious stomachache and was not in any shape to perform.

I was completely knocked out by the news. Without Emma’s voice to guide me, I would definitely mess up and this was not how everything was supposed to go!

As I stood there, feeling at a loss, my mum came in.

Finally came the big moment of my solo (独唱) show.

The Traditional Chinese Festival I Like Best

There are many traditional festivals in China.

When we were finally dismissed from the last class of the day, the students streamed out of the classrooms. It was another boring day after school. I dragged my feet home as I sighed. Yet another uneventful day, I thought. Little did I know that the day would take a turn for the worse.

The lift lobby (电梯间) of my flat was old and dirty. The walls, which were painted white, had been dirtied over many years. I reached my flat’s lobby, and pressed the lift button and went in. Just then, Mrs Lim, my elderly neighbour, hobbled (蹒跚) in. She looked ancient with tissue paper white hair, wearing a faded old-fashioned dress. I held the lift door open, flashing a friendly smile, and politely greeted her. I asked her how she felt that day and pressed the buttons. She thanked me for being so polite, then we were silent for the rest of the ride.

The lift fell down increasingly fast. There were loud clanking sounds here and there while the lift grew slower and slower. My heart beat hard and fast as my hands turned cold and wet with sweat. Unfortunately, the lift came to an abrupt stop at the fifth floor. I pressed the buttons hard several times, but it was of no help. The lights on the buttons had gone out. It soon dawned on me that we were trapped. An icy fear crept up my spine. Mrs Lim was hysterical (歇斯底里).

Paragraph 1:“We will never get out!” she cried with her face pale.

Paragraph 2: Bang! My hopes were lifted when I heard the firefighters on the other side of the lift door.

I was a single mother in my 30s who lived down and out with my daughter Peggy in a small apartment struggling hard to make our ends meet (维持生计) .

It was a really cold winter day. Without a coat that is too expensive for me to afford, I headed to the downtown for an interview. I sat down in the streetcar, and there against those scats was a beautiful silk umbrella with a silver handle decorated with gold scrolls, among which there was a name carved.

On impulse (冲动) I determined to find the owner myself. I got off the streetcar and searched a telephone book for the name. I found it immediately and called it. waiting patiently, and then a lady answered.

“Yes,” she said in surprise, with extreme excitement. “It was my umbrella which had been stolen a year ago.”

So appealing was her pleasure that I forgot I was looking for a job and went directly to her small house. She took the umbrella with teary eyes, explaining with choking voice that the umbrella was given by her parents, now dead. She would like to offer me some reward as an expression of her gratitude. But I refused and left.

The following days were hard. I could only obtain temporary employment, for a small salary. What was worse, I had just lost my last job before Christmas, with only fifteen dollars left. Unless a miracle happened, I would be homeless in January, foodless and jobless.

The air was full of Christmas merriment, with the bells ringing and children shouting in the bitter dusk of the evening. But there should be no Christmas for me.

Thinking of this, I couldn’t control my tears on my way home, but I managed a smile so I could greet my little daughter. She opened the door for me and threw herself in my arms, dreaming joyously and demanding desirably for her Christmas gift. There I stood, frozen overwhelmed by sadness.

Suddenly, the doorbell rang and Peggy ran immediately to answer it, calling that it must be Santa Claus.

Just when I was doubting whether the package had been addressed to the wrong place, a note attached to it caught my eyes.

Jane was still sleeping when the phone rang in the living room. She opened her sleepy eyes and looked at the clock on the table. It was already nine o’clock! Although Jane was still very sleepy, she knew she had to get up because her mother was working in her office and she couldn’t expect her younger brother Tom, who was sleeping like a pig, to answer the Phone. She quickly put on a coat and ran to the living room. When she picked up the receiver, on the other end came the warm greeting, “Good morning!”

It was from her father, who was a seaman and rarely came back. Suddenly, Jane’s sleepiness disappeared.

Born in a not-so-rich family, Jane and Tom felt the stress of life, but they were happy to enjoy the family atmosphere. At school, they were straight-A students and took part in various after-school activities. They were the pride of the family.

“Good morning, Dad. Why do you call us so early on the weekend?” Jane said and pretended to be annoyed. “Tom and I have been very nice recently.” “My dear, today is your mother’s birthday, and I have ordered a cake online and it will be sent to our home late in the afternoon. Do remember to take the cake. It is my surprise for your mother.”

Hearing her father’s words, Jane felt a little ashamed. How could she forget her mother’s birthday?!

While she was chatting with her father, Jane looked around the room and saw a lot of dirty clothes on the sofa. The floor hadn’t been cleaned for a few days since her mother had to work all this week.

She looked at the clock again and was sure that she still had enough time to prepare a surprise for her mother.

“Well, Dad, now I’m going to wake Tom up. We will give Mum a surprise, too!” Jane said and hung up the telephone.

Jane hurried to Tom’s room and shared her plan with him.

“Happy birthday, Mum!” Jane and Tom shouted when their mother opened the door.

I was a bad boy in a village in India. At least I was labeled that way because I had no interest in school or studies. I used bad language, hung around with other “bad” boys, skipped school and ran through the fields. No one thought I would do anything worthwhile with my life. And I’d heard many people in our village talking. “Why bother going to school? These kids end up back on the farms anyway. He’ll never amount to anything.” My parents and teachers were disappointed with my average marks.

My mother envisioned a different future and knew the value of education to create a better life. By the time I entered the 12th grade, I had taken a good look at myself and realized the life I was creating. The bad boy image troubled me. I didn’t believe I was a bad boy. I didn’t want to be a bad boy. These realizations forced me to acknowledge that my mother was right — education was my only way out. I worked hard to finish my high school, and then I decided to apply for higher education in university. But this village bad boy faced too many challenges.

Firstly, my family had very limited money. In addition to that, my grades were not good. There was very little chance I’d gain admission to a university. Still, I took a chance and applied. The last day of admissions, I visited the university to check my result. I looked down the list, and there it was, “Parashram J. Patil”. Finally, I’d been admitted. Now, it was the last day to pay, so I had to find money to cover my fees.

Helpless, I sat outside the department head—Professor Parth’s office.

From then on, things changed.