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.

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.

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 sophisticated city life.

One sunny day, my school announced an exciting event, a talent show for the local food bank. Students were encouraged to showcase their unique talents in front of the public in the city hall on National Day. A buzz of excitement fed 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 light bulb seemed to go in her head. “Why not practise right now upstairs? I bet you’ll be a perfect match.” Winking at us, she seemed to know we were thinking alike.

Emma and I embarked on rehearsing almost every single day after school. We brainstormed, exchanged ideas and rehearsed the scene. As the days rolled by, I was feeling pretty good about our act. But the day before the performance, Emma called that she had an acute stomachache and was not in any shape to perform.

I was completely knocked out by the news.

Finally came the big moment.

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.

With a wide smile on her face, 15-year-old Sirin eagerly rushed to her mom to show off her new painting. But Mom raised her eyebrows with eyes wide open, and spoke impatiently, “No time, baby. Right now I am busy with an important talk. Just wait for some time, OK?”

Holding her oil painting, she frowned (皱眉),and then searched for her dad. “Dad, see what I have done,” Sirin exclaimed cheerfully. Her dad turned around while adjusting his tie, grinned at her, and showed his thumbs up!

Immediately, Sirin replied angrily, “Dad, you haven’t seen it yet.”

He smiled at her saying, “No time, baby. I will see it later.” He just patted her back lovingly, kissed her forehead, and rushed for his office.

She was not a kid to be pleased with simple gesture or smile. She stood there for a few seconds, and then stormed off to her own bedroom. Hot air was blowing from her nostrils (鼻孔) ; her face turned into apple red. She threw the painting on the table, slammed the door and threw herself on her bed.

“Why is everybody so busy?” She recalled thousands of incidents that hurt her in preschool, middle school and even in high school too! She assumed at least her own family members would give some values to her thoughts, but they were no exception. Unconsciously, her eyes were filled with tears.

The knocking sound on the door put a sudden stop to her thought. Her mom was calling her for dinner. Sirin deliberately (故意地) came late to join them. She kept silent and didn’t look at anyone, scratching the table mat with her nail. Her mom was puzzled at the unusual behavior. Suddenly the morning incident came to mind. Softly, she asked, “ Honey, did I do anything wrong? ”

At this very moment, Sirin could no longer resist her anger.

When back from school the next day, Sirin was surprised to see her beautifully-decorated paining on the wall.

In the first grade in senior high school, I was extremely shy, I had friends, but it just wasn’t in my personality to be very outgoing, even when I knew someone. I was afraid I would do or say something wrong, so usually I just smiled and listened to other people’s conversations.

I did well in school and I loved to write. However, I would escape into my writing, where I could be myself and never had to worry about what other people thought of me. In my stories, I was never shy, I often imagined that I was the main character in the story. My teacher, Mrs. Sather, always encouraged me to write more and be myself. She told our class to go after our dreams and dig in with great efforts. I thoughts he was one of the first people to see my inner strength.

One day, she showed us a play she had written and announccd that our class was going to perform it. “I’ll begin to choose all the performers tomorrow” she said, “I need someone who is not afraid to be onstage in front of a lot of people to play the lead part of Dorothy. Anybody wants to try?” A few excited hands shot up -mine, of course, was not one of them and Mrs. Sather smiled. “We’ll talk more about it later,” she said. Then the bell rang and my classmates slowly left the classroom.

“I will never do that,” I thought. But after rereading the play, I was deeply attracted by the story and couldn’t help imagining myself to be the main character Dorothy. There seemed to be a new person inside me, a much more daring, outgoing person who had been hidden all along, just waiting for the opportunity to appear. However, I still felt shy and could never picture myself acting in a play in front of two hundred people. Having struggled for a few minutes, I still did not know how to make the decision.

When I was packing my schoolbag, Mrs Sather asked me to go to her.

One week later, it was time for me to perform on the stage.