It was a cold winter evening, and the pressure of high school was weighing heavily on my shoulders. I had always been a hardworking and dedicated student, but in my final year, the workload seemed unbearable. No matter how much effort I put into my studies, I couldn’t seem to keep up.
As the mid-term exams approached, I felt a sense of dread. I had spent countless hours studying, but with so many subjects to cover, I was overwhelmed. The fear of failure consumed me, and I began to doubt myself.
One day after school, I found myself walking alongside my teacher, Mr. Johnson, on the empty playground. He could tell that something was bothering me, and he asked if everything was alright. I hesitated for a moment, unsure of whether to share my struggles. But there was something in his kind eyes and considerate smile that made me open up.
I poured out my frustrations, explaining how hard I had been working and how little progress I was making. Tears welled up in my eyes as I admitted that I was afraid of failing the exams. To my surprise, Mr.Johnson didn’t offer words of sympathy or pity. Instead, he shared his own experiences as a high school student and the challenges he faced during his final year.
He told me about the countless nights he had spent studying, the moments of self-doubt, and the overwhelming pressure. But he also spoke about the importance of perseverance, no matter how difficult things may seem. He assured me that success wasn’t just about getting good grades but about learning from our failures, the last but not least, the qualities we formed in the process.
His words inspired me, something different seemed to have shifted in my study and life.
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Next week, I anxiously scanned the paper for my score.
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Everyone has a hero — someone he admires, who has had an impact on his life. My brother, John, is my hero. He is the most sympathetic, sweet and funny person I have ever met. John is also mentally handicapped (智障的) and has a developmental disability known as autism (自闭症).
I used to be ashamed of John when I was little. When he first started talking, he had a hard time with pronunciation and understanding the meaning of words. He called me May-Me for most of my childhood because he could not pronounce Amy. As John grew older, his language ability gradually increased. I went from May-Me to Amy, and hammer burgers became hamburgers.
When I was younger, I was embarrassed by John. He used to run around in stores talking to himself, flicking his ears and putting his hands in his mouth. He had a hard time swallowing and would have drool (流口水) running down his face. John was very loud, and it seemed to me that he would always find the quietest moments to talk.
All I ever wanted was a normal brother. I would look at other brothers and sisters, see their relationships and turn green with envy. Why did my brother have to be so different? I was very self-conscious of what people thought. I felt as if the entire world was laughing at me because of the way John was acting. I was utterly offended at times that I could not have a normal brother.
The siblings of an autistic child can have many reactions to the amount of attention the autistic child receives. Some feel as if they are not receiving enough attention and may become superachievers to get their share. I hate to admit it, but I definitely fall into this category. I feel the need to excel (突出) in everything I do. I cannot help but think that this comes from having a disabled brother.
John has changed significantly over the past eighteen years.
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As I grow older, I’m no longer ashamed of my brother; instead, I am ashamed that I used to be.
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