1 . Self-esteem is the ruling view you have of yourself. This includes your beliefs about your inner qualities and how you think others see you.     1     Someone can develop low self-esteem even when they are highly functional and greatly skilled. Understanding this mysterious emotional currency might be the key to unlocking your own self-worth.

People with healthy self-esteem don't need to boast about themselves to others. People with low self-esteem may tell you how much everyone loves them, what a great job they do at work, and how amazing they are at pretty everything under the sun even though they really wonder if it's true. People may see them as obnoxious or “full of themselves”.     2     They are not shy about sharing ideas, including constructive criticisms of others. They also take care of themselves without second-guessing or apologizing. They are the people who we say seem “sure of themselves”.

If you're starting to think you may have low self-esteem, you can work on the way you talk to yourself. When you turn off negative self-talk, you can open the floor to positive reinforcements and access the courage to show different sides of yourself. It isn't going to feel good at first, though. Keep going until it becomes less and less and maybe even a few awkward laughs in the mirror may help.     3    

However, in serious cases of low or even non-existent self-esteem, you may want to call in a professional or a specialist. Good mental health is important, and professionals doing psychotherapy do not pass judgement or give corrections.     4     It is the best way to get at the roots of your real self-esteem problems.

    5     It will take some work but your entire life — from your relationships to your body image to your work habits — will be touched with the kind of power that only comes from someone believing in themselves. This is the hardest part, and the greatest leap. With some changes and support, you can improve your self-esteem and see how everything else changes as a result.

After 20 years as a full-time wife and mother, I decided to be a school bus driver for I loved kids. When I think about my years of bus driving, many things crowd in, but mostly, I remember Charlie.

Charlie, eight years old, with blond hair and crystalline gray eyes, began riding my bus in September of my fourth year driving. They all had stories to tell me about their summers. Charlie, though, ignored me. He didn’t even answer when I asked his name.

From that day on, Charlie was a trial. If a fight broke out, I didn’t have to turn my head to know who had started it. If a girl was crying, chances were Charlie had pulled her hair. No matter how I spoke to him, gently or firmly, he wouldn’t say a word. He’d just stare at me with those big gray eyes of his.

I later found out Charlie’s father was dead and he didn’t live with his mother. He deserves my patience, I thought. To my cheery “Good Morning”, he was silent. When I wished him a happy Halloween, he sneered (冷笑). Still I was sure that this child needed to feel some warmth from me. So, when he’d pass by, I’d pat him on the arm or sometimes gave him a hug.

Toward the end of that year, the kids on my bus gave me a small trophy inscribed (刻) “To the Best Bus Driver Ever”. I propped it up on the dashboard (仪表盘). On top I hung a small tin heart that a little girl had given me. In red paint she had written, “I love Polly and Polly loves me.”

The next day, I was delayed a few minutes talking to the principal. When I got on the bus I realized that the tin heart was gone. “Does anyone know what happened to the little heart that was up here?” I asked. For once with 39 children, there was silence.

One boy piped up, “Charlie was the first one on the bus. I bet he took it.” Other children joined the chorus, “Yeah! Charlie did it! Search him!”

I asked Charlie to come forward, stuck my hand into his pocket and immediately I felt it—the small tin heart. Charlie stared at me and seemed to be waiting for what he’d come to expect from the world. I was about to pull out the tin heart when I stopped myself. Let him keep it, a voice seemed to whisper.

“It must have fallen off before I got here,” I said to the kids. “I’ll probably find it back at the depot.” Without a word, Charlie returned to his seat. When he got off at his stop, he didn’t glance at me as usual.

That summer Charlie moved away.