One of my teachers once asked my class what our favourite memory was. She was asking for the moment in which “you felt the best, you felt that you had the world in the palm of your hand. ” Some described grand awards; others described winning a tournament. But I felt the best when I first learned how to ride my bike at thirteen. I didn’t mind my classmate’s stares and snickering, because I knew there was more to the story.

My brother and I shared a typical brotherly relationship: we couldn’t stand each other. Or, to be honest, he couldn’t stand me. I hero-worshipped him. My clothes mysteriously looked like his, and even my words tended to mimic those I heard from him. Many times, I even wanted to literally follow my brother, sobbing every time I was prevented from hanging around with him. Needless to say, I was an annoyance to him. Any sort of conversation we had usually degraded to fighting, and try as I might, my brother usually won.

After a while, I stopped trying to impress him and learned to be totally indifferent; perhaps the silent treatment would get more approval. I was wrong. We soon fell into a sad pattern—I avoided him, he ignored me, and deep inside, it hurt. Indifferent or hostile, he was only a brother in name. So that’s how it was between us. I believed we would forever be apart, two housemates without conversation, two strangers without warmth. And nothing more.

I still remember the day I learned to ride a bike. I had received it that Christmas, which was great, until I realized I had no idea how to ride it. My mom was too busy and had long since abandoned any attempt to teach me. I decided to teach myself to ride, a little bit each day, but in vain. On that fateful day, it was no different. I was coming to the end of my daily one-hour torture, and I was so frustrated that I threw my bike aside and began to cry.

I guess that was what caused my brother to come outside.

An hour later, I was showing off my riding skill to my mom.

3 . Two years ago, my 11-year-old son sat me down for a talk. “Mom, it’s time.” he said. “Hear me out: It’s time we got actual TV. And you need an iPhone.”

This funny conversation two years ago marked a shift in our relationship. Perhaps for the first time, I began to really listen to my son’s opinion about our home technology. Since his reasoning was sensible and his suggestions within budget, I took his advice and was pleasantly surprised with the results.

I’d known for a while that my son understands technology better than I do. On airplanes, he grabbed my phone to put it in airplane mode. He wired the speakers in our house. After something was stolen from our front yard, he picked out, set up, and now monitors our security camera. When my computer died, I took him shopping with me.

As a teenager now, he has a busy social life, with skateboarding, basketball, and online gaming with his friends. I see our time together decreasing and our shared interests shrinking. That’s why I jumped at the chance when a friend mentioned writing technology reviews. I’m a writer, but I’d need a partner who has more tech knowledge than me. When I presented the idea to my teen, he immediately accepted

It’s changed our relationship in surprising ways. Where he used to get annoyed quickly at my technical ignorance, he’s learned to be more patient and explain things to me in a way that I can convey to an unknowing audience. The parent-child dynamic is not only changed; it’s even slightly reversed — he’s leading me. I’m asking him for help and advice. My son has risen to the occasion. He’s taking it seriously, and to watch him mature in this way is an honor. As someone who’s not much of a reader, he now searches instruction book. Without any prompting, he’s even emailed and called, yes, made an actual phone call to customer service or tech support when sample products weren’t working as expected.

I never imagined being a tech reviewer, but it’s proved to be a valuable way to learn from, work with and enjoy time with my teen.

I really hope to have a heart-to-heart talk with you because I am under great stress after entering senior high school.

Mom and Dad, I am quite confident about my future. Wish you good health and a happy life.

Yours,

Li Hua

5 . The world’s oldest pen pals have both turned 100 after 84 years of transatlantic(大西洋彼岸的)letters and have now switched to Zoom.

Geoff Banks from Honiton, Devon, and Celesta Byme, from US, started writing to each other aged just 16 in 1938. They met as part of an educational project to put British and American students in contact-and 84 years later they are still corresponding.

Geoff, a retired engineer, said, “I honestly struggle to remember how we got in touch, but I was talking to Celesta recently and I think it was something to do with an American school’s scheme(计划), which matched us up with Americans for a pen pal relationship, and somehow I ended up with this letter from an American girl, and we just kept corresponding ever since. There were a couple of years when we struggled to keep in touch because of the war. Now of course she is partially sighted, so I correspond mainly by email to one of her daughters who lives nearby. Email is much easier for me these days too because I can’t write very well anymore. We just talk about daily lives and our families really. She’s always been there to write to, even if it was just birthday cards and Christmas cards.”

Despite having chatted for decades, the pair has only ever met twice—first in 2002 while Geoff visited New York aged 80, and then again two years later. Geoff is now a great grandfather, having sadly outlived(比……活得长)his daughter but still having three sons scattered across the world and many more grandchildren.

Geoff said, “We actually met up again in 2004 when she invited me to her house for lunch. I have this new thing called Zoom I think now to chat with her, but I leave all the technology to younger people. They’re much better at pressing all buttons.”

7 . How to Make Friends at a New School

Starting with a new school can be difficult. Everything seems to be different, and you don’t even know where to go for your own classes.     1     However, if you use these skills, you can quickly turn some of those strangers into friends.

    2     If some people don’t accept you, they’re not the kind of friends you need. People often stay together because they have similar interests. For example, someone who does a lot of sports may make friends with those who also run or swim a lot.

Remember to be nice to the people you meet at your new school. If you think that you will say something that may make them feel sad, do not say anything and just nod your head if they talk to you. Also, remember to be as helpful as possible!

A smile goes a long way. When you walk in the halls, don’t keep your eyes on the floor. Raise your head and make eye contact with other people.     4     Introduce yourself. Tell them your name and where you’re from.

You like it when people use your name, and so do other people.     5     Besides, ask them in a kind way if they have a nickname. You’d be surprised how often this may come in handy.

I really hope to have a heart-to-heart talk with you because I am under great stress after entering senior high school.

Mom and Dad, I am quite confident about my future. Wish you good health and a happy life.

Yours sincerely,

Li Hua

Catherine was the coolest kid in her class. Whenever she went, she was in the spotlight, with a bunch of kids following her and doing everything she did.

Her deskmate, Landy, however, was not in the cool kids’ group. Being the tallest kid in her class, she was teased by her classmates, who were always chanting “Landy, Landy, long as spaghetti (意大利面 )”. Every time Landy heard those silly chants, she could feel her face burst into flames. God knew how she wished the ground to crack and swallow her!

Catherine didn’t really like it when the kids chanted “Landy, Landy, long as spaghetti”. But she never told them to stop either, and nor did she ever talk to her. She liked being popular.

One weekend, Catherine went over to her grandfather for Thanksgiving. Her grandfather lives on a farm at the opposite end of town, where he keeps chickens. While helping to feed the chickens, Catherine noticed a peculiar one. Curling in the corner, it looked smaller than the others and was almost half-bare!

“What’s the matter with it?” She asked her grandfather, with a puzzled frown on her face. Her grandfather told her how chickens could act. “They have a pecking (啄) order,” he explained, wrinkles of concern spreading around his forehead. “If one chicken is different, the others will push it away and keep pecking it. Sometimes they peck it so much that it dies.”

“Oh, what a poor little thing!” Catherine let out a sigh as she scooped the frightened chicken up in her arms, whose heart was beating fast in the bony little body. Suddenly, she thought of Landy, the girl being “pecked” by her classmates. “I’m going to take it home and take good care of it,” she said with a determined look.

Back in school, Catherine told the cool kids about the chicken. “It’s looking healthy,” she said proudly. “It’s fatter and its feathers are growing. Even the cat likes it. She carries it around the garden, and...” Everyone was entertained by Catherine’s story of her lovely chicken, laughter lingering around the classroom.

Paragraph 1. Then Catherine spotted Landy sitting by herself in a corner.

Paragraph 2. But Catherine walked directly toward Landy, regardless of what they said.