I was seated beside Missy in the ninth grade of the World History course when Mrs. Bartlett made the announcement of her new project. In groups, we were to create a newspaper around the culture we were studying.

On a sheet of paper, we made a list of the three people we were looking for in the group, and when we had gathered all the applications, Mrs. Brtlett informed us she would consider the names we had picked out and notify us tomorrow. There was no question in my mind that I would get the group of my own choosing. There were only a handful of sociable decent people in the class, and Missy was one of them. I knew we had chosen each other.

Then the next day, I was anxious to wait for the class. When the bell rang, Missy and I ceased to talk and Mrs. Bartlett called our attention. She began calling out names. When she reached the group three, Missy’s name was mentioned. So, I’m in group three, I thought. The second, third and fourth group members have been called out. My name was not included. There had to be some mistake!

Then I heard it. “Mauro, Juliette, Rachel, and Carina.” I could feel the tears well up in my eyes.How can I stand being part of this group-one boy who rarely spoke English, one girl who was always covered by skirts that went down to her ankles, and the other girl who wore weird (怪异的) clothes? How badly I wanted to be with my friends!

I tried not to cry when I approached Mrs. Bartlett. She glanced at me and understood why I had come. I was determined to convince her I should be in the “good” group. “Why?” I asked.

She put her hand gently on my shoulder. “I understand what you’re trying to do, Carina, but your group need you. You have to help them get a pass on this task. You’re the only one who can help them.”

I was surprised that she had seen something in me I hadn’t seen.

“Are you going to help them?” she asked.

I stood more upright. “Yeah,” I answered. I didn’t believe it was true, but it was. I had committed.

I bravely walked to where the rest of my group were seated.

In the end, Mrs. Bartlett gave us an “A” on that assignment.

My mother believed in using things up. Last year, our cornfield had a bad harvest because birds feasted on the crops. It was probably then that Mom’s frugality(节俭)became even more extraordinary. She began keeping everything that seemed useless in the attic(阁楼)—worn-out clothes, old sheets, broken umbrellas, and some other old items. Mom’s favorite saying was “waste not, want not”(俭以防匮). My brother Josh and I weren’t sure what that meant until the “Affair of the Scarecrow(稻草人)”, which, as it later became known, left a lasting impression on us.

The story began with a pretty hat that Mom received as a gift to protect her from the sun. However, Josh and I could see that Mom’s frugal nature and fashion sense were in battle. Mom really didn’t want to get rid of the hat—it was new and had a lot of use left in it—but neither could she stand wearing it. She tried to take off the fancy decorations, but they were stuck on tight. She’d have to find some other solution.

Josh and I watched as Mom headed upstairs to the attic with the hat. “Waste not, want not,” she called back down. We heard boxes being moved around. Moments later, Mom leaned out, holding a flour bag full of straw, and with a mysterious smile, she placed the hat on it.

“What is that for?” I asked, confused. “A scarecrow! ” Mom exclaimed. “But not a good one yet.It needs a strong body to stand firm in the field,” she said with a frown. “And it doesn’t look scary enough,” Josh remarked. I had to admit that Josh, though younger than I was, could sometimes be more imaginative. Josh and I turned to each other, searching for a good idea. Soon enough, Josh’s eyes lit up with inspiration.

Paragraph 1: “Come with me!” Josh called out.

Paragraph 2: In the following days, the scarecrow stood proudly.

One day when I was 12, my mother gave me an order: I was to walk to the public library, and borrow at least one book for the summer. This was one more weapon for her to defeat my strange problem — inability to read.

I n the library. I found my way into the “Children’s Room.” I sat down on the floor and pulled a few books off the shelf at random. The cover of a book caught my eye. It presented a picture of a beagle (小猎犬). I had recently had a beagle, the first and only animal companion I ever had as a child. He was my secret sharer, but one morning. he was gone, given away to someone who had the space and the money to care for him. I never forgot my beagle.

There on the book’s cover was a beagle which looked the same as my dog. I ran my fingers over the picture of the dog on the cover. My eyes ran across the title. Amos, the Beagle with a Plan. Unknowingly, I had read the title. Without opening the book, I borrowed it from the library for the summer.

Under the shade of a bush, I started to read about Amos. I read very, very slowly with difficulty. Though pages were turned slowly, I got the main idea of the story about a dog who, like mine, had been separated from his family and who finally found his way back home. That dog was my dog, and I was the little boy in the book. At the end of the story, my mind continued the final scene of reunion, on and on, until my own lost dog and I were, in my mind, running together.

My mother’s call returned me to the real world.

Believe it or not, what I experienced in that day changed me completely.

A Helping Hand

I spent most of my teenage years in an old farmhouse in the Durham County countryside. That was more than 30 years ago, but life there dated back to an even earlier era. I spent my summer days doing manual labor in the tobacco fields, while my summer evenings were spent preparing vegetables in the backyard. My fall weekends were often spent cutting wood and storing logs for the fire. Living where we did, we could see three or four other houses from our own, none of them within shouting distance. We knew our neighbors, most of whom were elderly. We usually offered our kindness when they needed help.

Jimmy lived across the street, on the far side of a tobacco field. He was seventy years old and lived alone. He lost his wife two years ago. He had barely supported himself these last couple of years since his health had gotten worse. One day, we went to visit him at his home. It was a small wooden house with dirty windows and a curtain that had been mended several times. The poor old man would sit in an armchair by the window, holding a faded photo, and with tears in his eyes, recall happy memories of his wife.

One weekend, my father went to check on Jimmy, but a rare heavy snow happened to fall. It was so heavy that he couldn’t get his old truck up Jimmy’s uneven (不平坦的), snow-covered road. Nobody could understand what made Dad climb the 400 yards or so to Jimmy's house. My brother and I were waiting anxiously at home. After a long time, he rushed home and told us that Jimmy was sick and had no firewood left.

My father asked us if we would like to help. We all nodded our heads willingly, but my brother was secretly worried. He asked my father how we could help. Although we could meet Jimmy's needs for things like food and firewood, my father held the belief that the loss of his wife made Jimmy unhappy, and wanted to offer Jimmy a moment of joy. We left the house and walked across the snow-covered fields. Our footprints went deep into the snow, only to disappear as the snow continued to fall. We headed across the field, aiming for Jimmy's house.

We knocked on Jimmy’s door, and he greeted us.

A GIFT FOR GRANDPA

Summer vacation was coming. Jack and his brother Berlin were filled with excitement as they thought of visiting their grandparents again.

The big day came at last. After the happy family got ready, they set out for the grandparents’ eagerly. On the way, the brothers were excitedly talking about the fun they had with grandparents.

A little blue house with a tall white chimney finally appeared. Behind the property was the forest carrying their good memories with Grandpa. They arrived at the driveway, at the end of which Grandma was waiting for them joyfully.

Jack and Berlin each gave Grandma a big hug and then swept to the living room, shouting   excitedly “Grandpa, we are back!”

Seeing his grandsons, Grandpa was wild with joy and tried to get up with all his strength from the chair but in vain. A helpless expression flashed on his face. Grandma explained that his health was declining rapidly and maybe couldn’t stand up on his own forever. But Grandpa declared stubbornly (倔强地), “I can!” Certainly, he was stuck in his boyish way. Mum and grandparents were happy to meet again after a long time. They sat together and chatted about what happened recently.

The brothers were soon bored with adult conversation, went out and wandered into the forest. Tall trees stretched up to the heavens with large branches crossing each other, while young ones rose straight like soldiers. Grandpa was once a great explorer full of wisdom. He could tell where the birds came from only by their calls and songs. The trees, birds, lizards, lots of bugs... How many merry moments they spent with Grandpa in the kingdom!

But now Grandpa couldn’t get up. This made them worried. “We’d think out a way to cheer him up.” Jack said. “Grandpa is a bird lover, and we can catch him a bird.” Berlin suggested. “But he hates birds being caged!” Jack shook his head.

Then a bright idea came to Jack’s mind. “Why not make a cane (拐杖) out of a young tree!”.

Jack and Berlin handed the cane to Grandpa.