1 . I woke to the sound of birds outside my window and lay in bed, going over the busy day ahead of me. Finally, I got up and attempted to switch on the light — nothing happened. I checked my phone. No Wi-Fi, no data. With our unstable cell service, there was no way of knowing if we had received alerts fbr a power failure. I grabbed a sweater, went downstairs, found a flashlight and a match to light the gas stove, and then boiled water to brew coffee. Outside the window, the falling snow obscured (遮蔽) the sunrise. Deep piles of snow covered the road.

My work meetings and deadlines, my sons’ classes and tests, my husband’s plans — everything would have to wait. Why does this happen today of all days?“ I asked. Thankfully, the wood stove was still going strong. I took a deep breath. I supposed we had everything we needed.

The house was quiet as I sipped my coffee and cuddled (搂抱) our dog. One by one, my husband and sons came downstairs and complained about the turn the day had taken.

I opened the curtains to let light in. We gathered around the table and had cereal. After breakfast, my husband played a game of solitaire. Then my sons joined him in building a house of cards that reached three levels until our cat jumped up to investigate and knocked it down. We played a round of Scrabble and had my favorite snow day lunch: grilled cheese and tomato soup.

Then we took a long walk in the woods behind our house, walking along the stream. We spotted deer tracks and played in the snow that was coming down in big fluffy flakes. When we returned, all the clocks in the house were blinking. I started to make dinner, happy to have things back to normal — even better than normal.

It was a day that began without electricity, cut off from the rest of the world, and ended with hot chocolate and power restored. We were recharged by the unexpected gift of a day together.

On a train to Smithville, a man happened to sit down next to a young man no more than 17 years old. Because the boy was tense, the man wondered what could be worrying him. Whatever it was, the boy’s tension was clear.

The boy kept staring out of the window, paying no attention to anyone else on the train. The man opened up a book and started reading. Now and then, he would look up and see the boy’s face pressed against the window. He sensed that the boy was fighting to keep from crying.

Finally, the boy asked the man, “Do you know what time it is? And do you know when we are to arrive at Smithville?” The man gave the boy the time. Then the boy told the man the whole story of his life. “Four years ago,” he said, “I did something bad hurting my dad, so bad that I had to run away from home. I couldn’t face my father. So I left without even saying goodbye to him. Since then, I have worked here and there. I never stayed very long in one place. I’ve been pretty lonely. Until finally, I decided that I want to go back to my father and apologized to him.”

The man went on to ask, “Does your father know you’re coming?” And the boy responded, “He knows I’m coming, but I don’t know if he will be there. I sent him a letter. I didn’t know if he would still want me back. I wasn’t sure if he would forgive me. So in my letter, I told him that if he wanted me to come home, he could put a sign on a tree which is a few hundred yards before the railroad station in Smithville. I told him that I would look for a yellow ribbon(丝带)on one of the branches of that tree as the train passes. If there is a yellow ribbon on the tree, then I’ll get off. If not, then I’ll just keep on riding to wherever this train goes.” The two of them were now waiting for Smithville.

7 . Learning how to do simple handwork is a great way for girls to combine practical skills and creativity. With schools and educators always trying to encourage more girls to take up STEM subjects (science, technology, engineering and maths) in high school and beyond, this could be the start of something special.

“My daughter always asks to help me when I get something from IKEA that needs putting together,” says Emma. “Normally, I don’t trust her to do much more than turning the Allen key a few times, but recently I bought two chairs and thought: Why not let them have a go? My daughter Ruby did one on her own and was really careful and expert in it. It amazed me that she did a better job than me.”

If parents still aren’t convinced that letting their daughters loose with the family power tools is a good idea, just remember how much the local worker charges for a quick DIY job. This fun hobby might save the family a few dollars, or even broaden their daughter’s visions to a building, engineering-based career or study path further down the line.

“When I first used a saw (锯子), I was pretty sure I’d cut my finger off or something, but our teacher explained everything we needed to know and I star-ted off slowly,” explains Amelia, a 12-year-old girl.

“I’ve nearly finished making my bread board and I’ve brought some off-cuts home because I want to try and turn them into something using tools from my grandpa’s collection. I love building. It’s creative and challenging and really satisfying when it works!” Amelia adds. “I’m going to build a bird feeder for our garden next. I just need to ask Mum and Dad if I can borrow a drill and some nails.”

Hopefully they’ll say yes. After all, Amelia might end up building them a family house in a few years.

NEVER STOP WALKING

When Justin was 7, he suffered from a disease that led to problems with the development of his back. Over the years, the little boy had gone through a total of five corrective surgeries. Justin could no longer walk and was limited to a wheelchair. But this did not stop him from living a normal life thanks to his mother’ S love and others’ help.

After entering high school, Justin got interested in playing the trumpet (小号) and joined the school’s band. He served as one of the band’s trumpeters and developed a strong friendship with his partner Tom. As Thanksgiving Day approached, the band intended to perform in the Thanksgiving Day Parade and every member had the chance to join in, including Justin. However, there was one obvious problem. Justin could not control his wheelchair and play the trumpet at the same time. The band director put forward an idea of one student pushing Justin during his marches. Tom immediately volunteered even though it meant he had to give up the opportunity to play his own instrument during the parade.“I do it just to make sure Justin knows that he always has a place in the band, and he always will,“ Tom said to their director secretly. From then on, the two practiced together, one playing the instrument and the other pushing the wheelchair with the rhythm of the music.

To help Justin, Tom sacrificed (牺牲) far beyond expectation. Apart from losing the chance to perform, he needed to spare more time to take care of Justin and even missed his football training several times. All of these were seen by Justin and the burden of guilt weighed heavily on his mind.“I can’t meet my own needs at the sacrifice of Tom’s chance. It is time to find a solution.” Justin thought to himself as his mother pushed him on the way home. His mother lowered her head and said,“Justin, play me your new tune.” Justin took out his trumpet and was about to play when an excellent idea came to him.

He turned around to ask his mother for help.

Thanksgiving finally came, as did Justin and mom’s performance.

9 . The older I get, the more I understand how my teachers have transformed my life.

On a recent Sunday afternoon, I went to see Mr. C at Roxbury Park in Beverly Hills. His love of life has not dimmed despite the fact that his legs no longer work like they used to. He visited some of his former students while he was in town. At Beverly Hills High School, Mr. C taught ancient history, coached football and golf, and risked his life teaching driver’s training on Saturday mornings from 1964 to 1988. The gray and hobbled students lined up one after another to thank their favorite teacher. One called him a rock star. Another was grateful for helping him when he couldn’t say so. It was a beautiful tribute, especially in these times of catastrophic teacher shortages.

Spending that Sunday in the park with Mr. C was nothing short of magic. It was a reminder of all that is promising and possible in public education, including a teacher whose rare emotional honesty could be appreciated and honored decades later. It also brought to mind Maya Angelou’s saying “People will forget what you said and did, but never forget how you make them feel.” He made me and others in the park feel heard and seen.

Mr. C changed my perception of myself. Rather than seeing myself as a loser cheerleader who couldn’t compete with the smart kids, I realized how much I loved learning. His history class was so interesting. In his classes about the Persians, Greeks, and Romans, extra credits can be earned for creativity. During earthquake drills, we counted on Mr. C to scream his head off in mock terror.

It should come as little surprise that I’d value the role of teachers in my life. Both of my parents taught; so did my siblings, aunts, uncles and cousins. I, too, have become a teacher and I try to follow in Mr. C’s footsteps. Some days, I fantasize what it would be like to go on a teacher tour, reaching out to my mentors to express my deep gratitude for all they’ve given me. Seeing Mr. C sparked that fantasy again. When I finally worked up my courage to thank him, knowing a floodgate of tears would open, he said to me with his typical modesty: “You were doing me more good than I was doing you.”