1 . How to Teach Your Child to Be a Good Friend

Your child who struggles with making friends and maintaining friendships may exhibit some behavioral issues. Physical aggression and name-calling often arise. A quiet character and social anxiety can also lead to difficulty making friends    1    

Instill self-esteem(灌输自尊思想). The first step in teaching your child to be a good friend is to teach them to take pride in themselves.    2    Additionally, a child with a strong sense of self will build healthier friendships down the road.

Teach social skills.    3    Role-play with your child to teach them how to have polite conversations with others. Practise taking turns, sharing, respecting other people’s boundaries, and showing care for their feelings. Your child also needs to know how to apologize, argue with a friend respectfully and listen to others.

    4    From Frog and Toad to Winnie the Pooh and Christopher Robin, children’s literature is filled with strong friendships. Use books as an opportunity to talk about what makes those friendships work, and what qualities the characters displayed to develop their friendships.

Find teachable moments. As a parent, you may run into situations where your child doesn’t act like the best friend they could be. Your child may have moments of conflict, drama and fights with their friends. Try to turn these moments into teachable moments.    5    Eventually, they’ll get the hang of it. With your guidance and a little practice, your child will turn into a caring, kind and trustworthy friend.

2 . When I was so small that my head barely touched the windowsill, we lived in the evergreen forests of Vermont. Our home was far, far away from any town or city, but that was the way we liked it.

Some winters, it got so cold that the river would freeze, which was unusual for water like that, water which ran so fast and deep. It felt as though time had stopped near the river, and so it had decided to become solid, settling in to wait for spring. We liked to skate on that river, my grandfather and I, even though the ice was uneven and his brown leather skates was so old.

One night, in the most frigid winter my young mind could recall, long after I should have been asleep, I caught my grandfather sneaking out of the front door, his ancient leather skates in his hands. He looked sheepish when he saw me, like I had caught him doing something silly, but I was so young that I thought no adult could ever do wrong. Especially not my grandfather, because he was the model of wisdom in my eyes.

“Grandpa, where are you going?” I asked.

“Skating on the river.”

“Why would you go out now? We did that yesterday morning.”

He looked a little thoughtful, and then he said: “It’s just that when you go out there, on the coldest, stillest night of the year, and you lie on your back on the thick, bubbled river ice, you can hear them.”

“Hear who?”

“The fish. Trapped there under the ice. You can hear them singing their watery winter song. And if you hold your breath, you can almost hear the stars singing in harmony.”

3 . One school night this month I quietly approached Alexander, my 15-year-old son, and patted him on the cheek in a manner I hoped would seem casual. Alex knew better, sensing by my touch, which remained just a moment too long, that I was sneaking (偷偷地做) a touch of the beard that had begun to grow near his ears. Suddenly he went stormily to his computer screen. That, and an angry look of his eyes, told me more forcefully than words: Mom, you are seen through!

I realized I committed a silly behavior: not showing respect for my teenager’s personal space. “The average teenager has strong feelings about his privacy,” said two young women experts. Ms. Frankel and Ms. Fox, both 17, are the authors of Breaking the Code, a new book that seeks to bridge the generational divide between parents and adolescents. It is being promoted by its publisher as the first self-help guide by teenagers for their parents, a kind of Kids Are From Mars, Parents Are From Venus that de-mystifies the language and actions of teenagers.

Personally, I welcomed insights into teenagers from any qualified experts, and that included the authors. The most common missteps in interacting with teenagers, they instructed me, result from the conflict between parents maintaining their right to know what goes on under their roof and teenagers striving to guard their privacy. When a child is younger, they write, every decision centers around the parents. But now, as Ms. Fox told me, “often your teenager is in this circle that doesn’t include you.”

Ms. Fox and Ms. Frankel acknowledge that teenagers can be quick to interpret their parents’ remarks as negative or authoritative and respond with aggressiveness that masks their defenselessness. “What we want above all is your approval,” they write. “Don’t forget, no matter how much we act as if we don’t care what you say, we believe the things you say about us.”

5 . When I was about seven years old, my mother often told me that pork needed to be cooked thoroughly-the harder, the better, because if there was even a little bit of pink in your pork，you could get Trichinosis (旋毛虫病).I didn’t know what Trichinosis was. However, it was described to me as a terrible disease that I didn’t want to get. Therefore, in my life, I hadn’t eaten any pork product before checking to see if it was fully cooked. On most days, I even refused to eat any pork.

Years later, I became a middle-aged father. I was eating dinner in a friend’s house and she was serving pork. I was terrified at some pink in it. I immediately explained to our host and the other guests the danger that was clearly present in this meal. I insisted that the pork should be cooked further, thinking that I had saved everyone with my quick-thinking and keen awareness.

It was only after I went home that evening that I decided to see how many people in our country actually got Trichinosis. I checked online and found out there were less than 15 cases in the entire country that year, and I wasn’t even sure those were from eating undercooked pork.

As adults, we may say things casually to children because we want them to be safe. We may make things seem more dangerous or worse than they actually are. After all, we want children to take what we say seriously. However, we can also overemphasize something and cause fear in children that they may carry with them for the rest of their lives. The bottom line is that our children are listening to us all of the time, and we are setting a good example to them about how adults communicate.

6 . When reading, my mother likes to slice a paragraph or a sentence out and attach it to the wall of her kitchen. She picks boring sentences that puzzle me. But I prefer copying favorite bright lines into a journal in soft, gray No. 2 pencil, word by word.

She doesn’t know any of this. There's nothing shocking: for our chatting. we seldom begin certain conversations though we talk on the phone weekly, sometimes making each other laugh so hard that I choke and she cries. But what we don't say could fill up rooms. Fights with my father. Small failures in school. Anything that really upsets us.

My mother has never told me “I love you, Lisa.”—as if the four-word absence explains who I am—so I carry it with me, like a label on me. The last time she almost spoke the words was two years ago, when she called to tell me a friend had been in hospital. I said, “I love you, Mom.” She stopped for a while and then said, “Thank you.” I haven't said it since, but I've wondered why my mother doesn't until I've found a poem that supplies words for the blank spaces I try to understand in our conversations:

Don’t fill up on bread. I say absent-mindedly. The servings here are huge.

My son, middle-aged, says: Did you really just say that to me?

What he doesn’t know is that when we’re walking together, I desire to reach for his hand.

It's humble, yet heartbreaking. After copying it down in my journal, I emailed it to mom, adding “This poem makes me think of you.” My mother doesn’t read poetry—or at least, she doesn’t tell me, and I felt nervous clicking “Send”.

She never mentioned the poem. But the next time I went home for vacation, I noticed something new in the kitchen fixed to an antique board: the poem. The board hung above the heater, the warmest spot in the kitchen. The poem still hangs there. Neither my mother nor I have ever spoken about it.

7 . Speaking with people who are suffering is difficult.     1     Sometimes it’s just difficult to know what to say. Words fail us. Here are some tips for talking about illness with loved ones.

    2     Visit them, or if that’s not possible, just call them. Don’t worry if you weren’t there in their exact hour of need. It’s important to let them know you’ve been thinking of them and that you regret the delay.

Ask specific open questions. Your friend will no doubt have a routine response to “How are you feeling?” So steer away from routine politeness by asking specific open questions, such as, “So much has happened since we last spoke, tell me what’s been going on with you.”     3    

Don’t argue with them. You may indeed believe that drinking herb tea is a cure-all, or a friend of your friend might well have benefited from a dietary change.     4     Your friend is likely exhausted and sensitive, so there is no need to contradict their lived experience. Let them lead the conversation about their health, which is a small concession that you should make.

Know how to assist them. If you’ve given them enough room to talk, you should have a wealth of information about how to help them.     5     Do they like being in the garden? Maybe you’ve been cutting your own lawn and could bring the mower round before you put it away.

8 . Fancy, feathered, and fascinating, these birds surprised portrait photographer Alex ten Napel with their beauty and charisma.

In the Netherlands, Alex ten Napel makes miniature (微型的)runways in barns and backyards to capture the essence of chickens such as this Polish rooster. “I consider them walking pieces of art, “ he says.

A chicken “is not just an animal that gives us eggs, ” says Alex ten Napel, who’s been wandering his home country of the Netherlands in search of farm fowl since 2014. Taking inspiration from Melchior d’ Hondecoeter, a 17th-century Dutch artist known for his work with birds, ten Napel uses lighting, backdrops， and an elevated， catwalk-like stage to bring chickens out of the coop (笼子)and into an entirely new context.

“What I hope you see in the photos is that chickens can be proud beings or funny beings, “ he says. ”They can be like gymnasts or ballerinas. Not what most people think of when you talk about chickens. “ While each animal has different characteristics, ten Napel has noticed the emergence of some patterns throughout his travels. Roosters, or male chickens, tend to be large, visually striking, and imposing (仪表堂堂的)，he says. But it’s the females ten Napel finds himself drawn toward. “I have a heart for the hens. They’re so vulnerable, ” he says. “They move me in a way that I want to protect them. “

Ten Napel first came face-to-face with a chicken while he was camping in the Pyrenees Mountains about 10 years ago. He felt an immediate connection to the species, which then became his main photographic muse.

A specialist in portrait photography, ten Napel paid attention to children and older adults-for 25 years. The chickens, he says, have reignited his passion for this type of photography. “I can’t direct them. I have to be patient and feel how they will show themselves, ”he adds. “Everything they give you is a gift. “

10 . This was the first communication that had come from her aunt in Jessie’s lifetime.

“I think your aunt has forgiven me at last,” her father said as he passed the letter across the table.

Jessie looked first at the autograph(签名). It seemed strange to see her own name there. There was a likeness between her aunt’s autograph and her own, a hint of the same decisiveness and precision. If Jessie had been educated fifty years earlier, she might have written her name in just that manner.

“You’re very like her in some ways,” her father said, as she still stared at the autograph.

“I should think you must almost have forgotten what Aunt Jessie was like, dear,” she said. “How many years is it since you last saw her?”

“More than forty,” her father said. “We disagreed. We invariably disagreed. Jessie always prided herself on being so modern. She read Darwin and things like that. Altogether beyond me, I admit.”

“And so it seems that she wants to see me.” Jessie straightened her shoulders and lifted her head. She was excited at the thought of meeting this mythical aunt whom she had so often heard about. Sometimes she had wondered if the personality of this remarkable relative had not been a figment(虚构) of her father’s imagination.

But this letter of hers that now lay on the breakfast table was admirable in character. There was something of intolerance expressed in its tone. It was just like what her father had told her.

Mr. Deane came out of his past memories with a sigh.

“Yes, yes; she wants to see you, my dear,” he said. “I’ve heard she has set up a school and helped many youngsters. I think you had better accept this invitation to stay with her. If she took a fancy to you, you could get a better education…”

He sighed again, and Jessie knew that for the hundredth time he was regretting his own past weakness...