I was seated beside Missy in the ninth grade of the World History course when Mrs. Bartlett made the announcement of her new project. In groups, we were to create a newspaper around the culture we were studying.

On a sheet of paper, we made a list of the three people we were looking for in the group, and when we had gathered all the applications, Mrs. Brtlett informed us she would consider the names we had picked out and notify us tomorrow. There was no question in my mind that I would get the group of my own choosing. There were only a handful of sociable decent people in the class, and Missy was one of them. I knew we had chosen each other.

Then the next day, I was anxious to wait for the class. When the bell rang, Missy and I ceased to talk and Mrs. Bartlett called our attention. She began calling out names. When she reached the group three, Missy’s name was mentioned. So, I’m in group three, I thought. The second, third and fourth group members have been called out. My name was not included. There had to be some mistake!

Then I heard it. “Mauro, Juliette, Rachel, and Carina.” I could feel the tears well up in my eyes.How can I stand being part of this group-one boy who rarely spoke English, one girl who was always covered by skirts that went down to her ankles, and the other girl who wore weird (怪异的) clothes? How badly I wanted to be with my friends!

I tried not to cry when I approached Mrs. Bartlett. She glanced at me and understood why I had come. I was determined to convince her I should be in the “good” group. “Why?” I asked.

She put her hand gently on my shoulder. “I understand what you’re trying to do, Carina, but your group need you. You have to help them get a pass on this task. You’re the only one who can help them.”

I was surprised that she had seen something in me I hadn’t seen.

“Are you going to help them?” she asked.

I stood more upright. “Yeah,” I answered. I didn’t believe it was true, but it was. I had committed.

I bravely walked to where the rest of my group were seated.

In the end, Mrs. Bartlett gave us an “A” on that assignment.

“Don’t forget to study for the European history test on Friday,” Mrs. Beville announced to her students before the class was over.

Julie shut her book and sighed to herself, “Why couldn’t the test be on poetry?” Julie loved poetry and its rhythmic expression of feelings and ideas. Yes, she could understand poetry, but as to history she was not sure. “What if I fail? I’ve never been good at memorizing anything for a test,” she thought.

That night, Julie sorted out her notes. She flipped open her textbook to the end of the first chapter, where she found a list of practice questions for the test. “Need some help?” asked her older brother, Joey, who poked his head into her bedroom to see what she was doing. Julie handed him her textbook and said, “Quiz me.” Joey took the book and read the first question. “In what year did England defeat the Spanish Armada?” Julie frowned and pursed her lips. “Dates are the worst! Ask another one.”

Joey’s eyes traveled to the bottom of the page. “Who took the throne following the death of Queen Mary I?” “Oh! It’s on the tip of my tongue. It’s - it’s - I don’t know!” Julie shook her head. “It looks like you didn’t study,” Joey said. Julie grabbed her book back and glared at Joey. What did he know about her study habits? She could read a chapter a thousand times, but getting her brain to hold on to information was like getting a rock to absorb sand.

The following day, she decided to use library time to study. She found a table in a quiet corner. With her textbook open in front of her, she tried to make sense of all the facts and dates. But it was useless. She dropped her head to the book and buried her face in the pages. “Impossible!”

“Julie!” Julie heard someone calling her and looked up. Maria from her class was seated at a nearby table.

Maria approached Julie with a sparkle in her eyes and asked, “Want to study together?”

On the day of the test, Julie and Maria both felt nervous.

I was my village bad boy in Gudewadi. At least I was labelled that way. When I wasn’t playing, I’d help my parents on our cashew nut (腰果) farm. The cashew nut yield (产量) was not high, and the income was only enoughto make ends meet. No one thought I would do anything worthwhile with my life. And I’d heard many people in our village talking, “This kid will end up back on the farms anyway. He’ll never amount to anything.”

My mother imagined a different future. She was illiterate (不识字的) and knew the value of education to create a better life. She’d follow me right up to the door of the classroom and monitor me to study.

This bad boy image troubled me. I didn’t believe I was a bad boy, and I didn’t want to be a bad boy. By the time I entered university, I had taken a good look at myself and realised the life I was creating. At high school, everyone had life goals. Being in that atmosphere forced me to think bigger. I realized that my mother was right —education was my only way out. I worked hard to finish my graduation. After I graduated, I decided to apply for higher studies in university.

However, I had very limited money. In addition to that, my grades were not very excellent. There was very little chance that I’d gain admission to a university. Still, I took a chance and applied. Days went by, and nothing happened. I checked to see if my name was registered for admissions. No. I wasn’t admitted. Weeks went by, I continued to check, but still nothing. It looked like I would never lose my village bad boy image. Until a miracle happened...

For one last time, I visited the university to check my status on the last day of admissions. Maybe just maybe, I’d been admitted. I looked down the list, and there it was, “Parashram J. Pati”. Finally I’d been admitted. Now, I had to come up with my fees to university.

There was no way I could pay the tuition fees.

I chose agriculture as my major.

Nish a could not forget the way she froze in front of the class today.

Today was Nisha’s turn to do a presentation. However, her hands shook so violently that she couldn’t read her notes. Her voice became softer even to silence. Mr. Roberts kindly ended Nisha’s presentation even though she did clearly not finish. He also asked Nisha to stay after class for a moment.

“Nisha. I know you’re shy, but you worked hard on this project. I’d hate to see you give up on yourself.” Then Mr. Roberts hesitated, “If I give you another chance, do you think you can find your courage?” Nisha nodded, grateful for the chance. After the talk, she always kept her head down in the school and hoped this school day would end soon.

When she arrived at home, her mom was baking in the kitchen. Her mom studied Nisha’s face as she came into the kitchen. “What’s wrong, Nisha?”

Tears shone in Nisha’s eyes. Nisha told her mom the whole story. Her mom was silent for a moment and asked, “Why is it that you can talk to me about anything, but you can’t talk to your class?” She set the timer（计时器）and then said, “Let me show you something.”

Nish a followed her mom to her bedroom. There her mom showed her a book filled with pictures. In it there was a blue ribbon（丝带）that said “First Place” and a picture of herself when she was very young, standing with her parents.

“I won it for public speaking. I started the school year as the shyest girl on the speech team, but lended the year as the blue ribbon winner. It wasn’t easy at first—I was not sure of myself at all. I worked hard, and mostly I faced my fears. You just need to find your courage.”

Hearing mom’s words, Nisha stared at the precious blue ribbon, lost in thought.

The next day Nisha again walked to the front of the classroom to give her presentation.

An Unforgettable Sports Meet