School mornings were always busy. The first sentence I usually heard was, “It's time to rise!” It was Mom's loudest voice, and there was no way I could pretend not to hear it or avoid it.

By then, I couldn't get to the kitchen fast enough. In fact, it was a race between my sister and me. We usually seated ourselves at the same time, sometimes knocking each other out of our places. After breakfast, we all rushed out to the bus stop as we took our lunch bags that contained a sandwich, fruit, and a dessert.

Then, one day, much to my surprise, there was no dessert in my lunch! What could have happened to it? Did Mom forget to make or buy it? Oh, well, I thought. It's only one time, so it's no big deal. But, for the next few days, my lunch contained no dessert! So one day, after school, as soon as I got home, I asked, “Mom! Why haven't you been putting a dessert in my school lunch?”

Mom answered, “Why, Eugene, I have been including a dessert in your lunch. If you're not getting it, then who is?”

So then we thought of my activities, and what I did with my lunch each day. As soon as I arrived at school, I always put my lunch in the classroom closet (储物间) along with all of the other lunches. And that brought us to Carl—the bad boy of the third-grade class. The teacher didn't like him in class and would send him to the closet, where he would spend most of his time each day.

Carl lived in a foster home (寄养家庭). He was loud and somewhat of a thief. He would take just about anything that wasn't fastened (盖好), so he wasn't welcome at school. Mom and I decided that with nothing else to do Carl was probably going through the lunches and eating what he liked.

My mother and I talked about ways to solve this problem.

Another day, Carl asked me if he could come to my house and meet my mother.

I sat in the breakfast corner with my four-year-old son, Matthew, trying to ignore the ache in my stomach. I was still recovering from a surgery. I hoped for strength and happiness. But the future seemed so hopeless.

Matthew jumped up from his spot on the kitchen floor. “Bird!” he shouted, rushing to the sliding door. Sure enough, there was a white dove seated on a rubber tree. It sat there a few moments, and then flew away. I’d never seen one in our neighborhood before.

When I dragged myself to the kitchen the next morning, the dove was back. This time it was with a mate carrying twigs (嫩枝), “Look, Matthew,” I said, pointing to the tree. “They’re going to make a nest.” The doves flew in and out of the courtyard all week, building on the top of the rubber tree. Matthew could hardly contain his excitement. Every morning, he’d run into the kitchen and take his spot by the sliding glass door, talking to the birds while they worked. As much as I was grieving (感到悲伤), I couldn’t help but look forward to the doves’ visits too. We watched their progress as if it were a real-life soap opera unfolding before us. Gradually, my pain disappeared, replaced by joy.

Then it all went wrong. The courtyard was a safe enough spot for a nest, but the rubber tree’s broad, thin leaves were far from stable. One night, a strong wind blew through, throwing the doves’ nest to the ground. I heard the twigs break apart. Nothing good ever lasts. I wouldn’t blame the doves if they never came back. But they returned. And they paid no attention to the pi le of sticks that had once been their nest. They started again from scratch, though the wind destroyed all their hard work. The next day, and the next, they renewed their efforts, as if nothing had happened.

Paragraph 1: I knew I had to do something for the poor creatures.

Paragraph 2:“The birds were back!” Matthew announced.

The skies were dark. A strong wind was blowing hard, cutting my face like a sharp knife. Rain fell in big drops and thunder and lightning flashed across the skies. I shook with cold and fear as I walked through the streams of muddy water. Some people were rushing by, completely wet in the heavy rain.

Along the way, I saw some schoolchildren holding their heavy schoolbags tightly and rushing home. I also saw that some road repair work had been abandoned(遗弃) by workers. Obviously the workers had left in a hurry because of the storm. There were few signs and it was hard to see what was on the road. There were pieces of wood and metal and it looked like a hole had been dug and hastily covered with planks(木板).

I moved on but suddenly stopped as I heard some sounds. It sounded like children crying. I quickly turned back and went back to the place from where the sounds came. I was terrified! To my sadness, I found that two small children had fallen into the gaping(裂开的) hole on the road. The planks had moved away with the force of the rushing water. I could barely see the children as it was dark all around me. I told them that I was going to get help and ran. I was not sure of what to do or where to go but decided to go to the nearest house for help. I knew the man well, Mr Lee, who lived there and got along well with his neighbors.

I called Mr Lee and told him about the problem.

The children’s parents were shocked to hear of what had happened.

Located halfway up the Italy’s Apennine Mountains, about 100 miles northeast of Rome, the Hotel Rigopiano has never been easy to reach. But its isolation(隔离) only adds to its appeal, attracting a great number of tourists.

Snow began to fall across the Apennines in January and lasted for days. From his home in the Rome suburbs, Matrone watched the weather with concern. He and his wife, Cicioni, had planned an overnight getaway to the hotel. But now he wondered whether they should go. After phoning the hotel, they decided to make the trip. By the time they neared the hotel six hours later, they were battling a snowstorm. When they finally arrived, they were both cold and exhausted. They checked into the hotel, got into their room and went to bed early.

As they awoke the next day, they discovered that their difficulty had worsened overnight. The cars in the parking lot were invisible. The phone and power lines were down. They were having breakfast when the hotel began to shake. An earthquake with a magnitude(震级) of 5.7 had struck the mountain. “Get out of here!” Matrone shouted to his wife. They headed quickly to the parking lot, where others were digging their cars. Fifteen minutes after the first earthquake, another quake hit, this one measuring 5.6.

With a dozen vehicles freed by noon, the guests set off down the driveway. But when they reached the main road, the path was blocked by a six⁃foot⁃high wall of snow. Matrone climbed out of his car and investigated it. There was no road in sight, “We’re trapped!” he told his wife. So they had no choice but to make their way back to the hotel.

As it was getting dark, they managed to get back. That was when the snow on the mountain began to slide. They heard the avalanche(雪崩) before they saw it. The avalanche gathered speed and size, grabbing rocks and trees and anything else in its way down the mountain, tearing the hotel from its foundation. When the avalanche came to a stop, those who were caught inside the hotel were left buried in the icy rocks and ruins.

When Matrone came to himself,he was stuck in the darkness.

It was not until the next morning that the rescuers finally arrived.

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.

When I was little, I lived in a house with a beautiful garden full of all kinds of flowers, and roses were the most beautiful of them. There was nothing I enjoyed more than sitting in the garden with my mother as she read stories to me. When I was in primary school and old enough to read, I enjoyed reading stories aloud to her.

I will never forget one day when I was in the third grade. I had been picked to be the princess in the school play, and for weeks my mother had rehearsed (排练) my lines (台词) so hard with me. But no matter how easily I acted at home, as soon as I stepped on stage, every word disappeared from my head. Finally, my teacher took me aside. She explained that she had written a narrator’s (旁白) part to the play, and asked me to change roles. Her word, kindly expressed, still hurt, especially when I saw my part go to another girl.

I didn’t tell my mother what had happened when I went home after school that day. But she sensed my pain. Instead of suggesting we practice my lines, she asked if I wanted to take a walk in the garden.

It was May and roses were blossoming and, under the trees, we could also see yellow dandelions (蒲公英) in the grass. “I think I’m going to dig up all these weeds,” she said, pulling one dandelion up by its roots. “From now on, we’ll have only roses in this garden.”

“But I like dandelions,” I protested. “All flowers are beautiful — even dandelions.”

My mother looked at me seriously. “Yes, every flower is beautiful in its own way, isn’t it?” she asked thoughtfully. I nodded, pleased that I had won her over. “And that is true of people too,” she added. “Not everyone can be a princess, but there is no shame in that.” Aware that she had guessed my pain, I started to cry as I told her what had happened. She listened and smiled gently.

“But you will be a beautiful narrator,” she said.

After the play, I took home the flower.

Opening presents carefully selected by our parents is our family tradition on Christmas morning, which always pushes the festive atmosphere to the climax. However, this year’s Christmas seemed not as happy as usual.

It was Christmas Eve when my sister and I decided to open our presents before our mom got home from work. Though worried about ruining my mom’s original plan, we still wanted to sneak a peek (偷看) at the gifts in advance, driven by a strong impulse of curiosity. Since my sister was older, and that put her in charge, she opened the first gift while I was ordered to stand guard at the big picture window in our front room. I was to report any suspicious activity or person, namely our mother, who can easily capture the details of life.

I was so excited that I could barely stand still. I also couldn’t keep my eyes on the window very long. My head moved from the window to my sister and back to the window again. I felt like I was watching a Ping-Pong match.

“All right!” my sister shouted. She pulled out a jewelry box. “You know what that means, don’t you?”

I jumped up and down. “Yeah, it’s my turn!”

“No,” she said. “It means that there must be some jewelry under here.” I watched my sister rummaging (翻寻) through the presents under the tree, trying to find one she thought was small enough to be a necklace or earrings.

“Hey, that’s not fair!” I complained, stomping my foot.

“Are you watching for Mom?” is all that she said. I couldn’t do anything except stand guard as she opened present after present. Finally, when my sister’s curiosity was satisfied and she had finished wrapping her last present back up, we traded places.

My heart hammered so hard that it felt like my chest was moving in and out. My sister reminded me to be careful so I wouldn’t tear the paper, and to wrap the present back up the same way that I had found it.

After unwrapping a few presents, I found it faster to open one end of a present and peek inside. “Headphones! How can my mom know what I want! Without any hesitation, I pulled the headphones out of the box.

I was about to put them on when my sister shouted, “Quick! Mom’s coming!”

Christmas morning finally approached, and we were ready to open our presents again!_