It was a hot day in Florida. The school year had just ended and it was time for summer vacation. We had just gotten a little black dog who we named One-Eyed. We chose that name because he could only see out of one eye.

Everybody wanted to do something for the dog: feed him, teach him tricks and take long walks with him.   Everybody was so happy to have this active, playful and shaggy new addition to our family. Everybody, that is, except my mom and me.

All my mom saw when she looked at the dog was someone else to clean up after. Shedding, messy, muddy, he pounced all over the house. All Mom seemed to care about was getting the house cleaned. My mom began to put Clorox (高乐氏漂白水) in the bathtub. There was no messing with Mom when she started cleaning, so I decided to move out of the way. Actually, getting out of the way is a move I’d been practicing for a long time.

Being the youngest in my family has had its advantages, of course. More than a few times I was spoiled or everyone said I was the cutest. But being the youngest also came with its fair share of troubles. “You’re too young!” “You’ll mess this up!” they’d often say. I knew that my family loved me but I couldn’t wait to show them I could do things by myself.

Every time I asked my brother or my sister if I could pet One-Eyed, they would shout, “No!” or tell me that I had germs and if I touched One-Eyed he would die!I really believed them. Once I even confessed to my mom that I touched the dog when no one noticed. At first,my mom seemed very confused about what I was telling her, but then she realized. My mom scolded my brother and sister, “You better stop teasing your little brother!” Little brother! That’s exactly what I was. That really got my blood boiling! Secretly, I decided, “Ill show them what a little kid can do!”

Paragraph1:That afternoon, I took the dog and sneaked into the bathroom.   

Paragraph 2:I thought my mom would punish me, but she was just standing there and laughing.   

3 . Johnny Agar had always dreamed of competing in triathlons (铁人三项赛) as an athlete. Unfortunately, he’d been diagnosed with cerebral palsy (大脑性瘫痪) shortly after he was born. This disorder makes it difficult for the now-28-year-old to get around. However, he and his father are proving that where there’s a will — and a lot of love — there’s a way!

Jeff Agar, 59, is helping Johnny experience life to the fullest by entering triathlons by his side. As a team, they’ve completed over 200 races, including a full ironman triathlon that required them to swim, bike and run 140 miles in just 17 hours.

“I’m not a fan of triathlon,” Jeff joked. “I’m doing it not because I love it. This is Johnny’s dream and I’m giving him the legs and the power to do it.” Although Jeff typically provides the majority of the manpower, it was important for Johnny to cross the finish line on his own legs. “Walking in races was my way of telling Dad, ‘Okay, I’m not just going to say thank-you anymore; I’m going to actually put words into action,’” Johnny said.

Johnny and his dad now form Team Agar, using their story and the power of motivational speaking to inspire others. “When we completed that 140-mile Ironman together, it had an amazing impact on many people who had seen our story. We began to see that competing isn’t just about us crossing the finish line; it’s about helping others leave uncertainty in the dust — even those facing greater obstacles than we did.”

Earlier this month, they received some incredible news. They were invited to compete in one of the toughest triathlons: the Ironman World Championship! What made the occasion even more special was a pre-recorded video message from Johnny’s idol, athlete Peyton Manning. “Rumor has it that you’re a big fan of mine,” Peyton said, “I’m a big fan of yours as well! You guys are incredible; you’re a true inspiration.”

5 . I love cooking. Food has always been a love language in my family, and I seem to speak it well-both in consumption and preparation.

I love cooking food, whether it’s a holiday feast or a quickly imagined meal.    1    : grilling and smoking, recipes for slow cookers and Dutch ovens, and simmering (煨) soups and pasta sauces all day on the stovetop.

    2     It makes me feel like I’m being better for them, showing love and gratitude. And since cooking is an art that takes practice to get better, I enjoy the feeling of making a meal that earns a bit of praise. I think I inherited (继承) this relationship with cooking from my mother.

My memory of her food probably goes back to a day when my mother was making Bolognese-style spaghetti sauce (意大利面酱). The kitchen was small, but the centerpiece was a stove. That’s where my mother showed her art of cooking with love.     3    

One of my first memories of cooking for my family was making my mom’s spaghetti sauce for my wife when we began to live together. I left work early to prepare dinner, before heading back out to pick her up.     4     I knew the sauce wasn’t as good as my mom’s, but it was good enough.

Cooking for my family is a way of connecting with my mother, even though she’s no longer physically with us.     5     I feel happy in the kitchen, and I try to put my heart into the food-when my family loves it, it feels like a hug.

There was a girl called Cary, who was a new student in Esmarth Vil, a primary school in a small town.

She was the most hardworking girl at her school. Her marks were higher than the others. She was the best, but nobody wanted to be her friend. Her classmates didn’t want to play with her and some even laughed at her. Cary’s teacher Jared didn’t know that.

One day, Jared set an exam and Robert, a boy who was the king of all the students, signed his exam paper using Cary’s name, and changed Cary’s name for Robert’s quickly after Cary handed in her paper. It wasn’t noticed by anybody. When Jared returned all the exam Papers, everybody was shocked. Cary failed the exam, but the others seemed to be happy with that.

The next day, when Cary arrived at school, all the children wanted to be with her and invited her to play with them. Although Cary was surprised, she was happy to play with the other children. During their fun time, Jared suddenly appeared to inform Cary that there had been a mistake, and she hadn’t failed.

Jared explained to the students what had happened and punished Robert. After that, they all   stopped playing with Cary again.

Cary couldn’t stop crying this time and ran to ask her teacher why she couldn’t make friends with good school performance.

Jared was sorry to know what had happened to Cary.

After hearing Jared’s story, all the children decided to change themselves.

English was always easy for me, but that changed the first day I walked into Mrs. Johnson’s class. I’d heard rumors from former students that she was strict and demanding that her class was impossible to pass, and that I was crazy for even wanting to take it. Consequently, I was extremely nervous.

On the first day of school, Mrs. Johnson stood in the front of her classroom, smiling, while she waited for the class to settle down. Her long, curly, red hair and clear blue eyes made her seem full of life. You could tell she had so much knowledge that it just wanted to overflow and spill (溅出) all over the floor.

“This course is Advanced Writing Course,” she said. “I’m not exaggerating when I say this class will be difficult, but if you trust me, I’ll guide you.”

She explained her grading system was different from what we were used to and that we’d better forget about the so-called good grades we had got before. She guaranteed that our writing would improve once we understood the new writing skills which she would teach us.

“Writing is an art,” she said. “You can’t just put words on a piece of paper and sign your name on top of it. Instead, what you put your name on is out there to be judged.”

I’d never thought about it that way. Every time I rushed to finish an essay and wrote my name on top, it was still my writing, my words, out there for everyone to read.

She hoped that if we wanted to be good writers, we had to remember writing really was an art, and that it might take a long time to perfect.

Even though I thought I was doing fine in her class, my writing grade was terrible. I began to doubt myself and even thought about quitting the writing class. That was when I realized I needed to find out what I could do to improve my grade.

So I went to Mrs. Johnson’s office after class.

The after-class instructions continued for months until the Year Writing Contest came.

10 . My childhood was mostly silent. It was full of love, laughter, anger and sadness like any family, but these things occurred _______. The knowledge instilled (灌输) in me was _______ by watching my mother as she moved through her silent world.

I loved to watch her hands, which were always _______ me things by showing me how, as she watered, weeded and dug her garden. The hands were rough with cuts and _______, but filled with wisdom.

Sometimes, those same hands spoke to me literally. Basic _______ language started in the family quite suddenly but then _______ just as quickly. My mother _______ that lip-reading was quicker. She would look at me intently and _______ words such as, “watch this” or “this is how”, or “never touch this plant”. We often went for hours like this, _______ a word spoken and yet we were talking in various ways the whole time.

As I grew up, I began to ________ why my mother spent so much time in her garden. Her deafness had come during an era of little tolerance for diversity, and much ________ of disability. The world outside was demanding and unforgiving while her garden was full of kindness and ________. For her it was the only place under her ________.

My mother’s knowledge is deeply ________ inside me. I now have gardening hands, with cuts and scars, and cherish their ________. With any luck my kids will have them one day, too.