3 . When I was about 10 years old, I was walking down the street with my mother. She ______ to speak to Mr. Lee. I knew I could see Mr. Lee anytime around the neighborhood, so I didn’t greet him. Later, my mother ______ me by the arm and said something that has impressed me deeply. She said, “You let that be the last time you ever walk by somebody and not open up your mouth to speak, because ______ a dog will move its tail gently when it passes you on the ______.”

That ______ touching my heart deeply, it’s been a guidepost for me and the foundation of who I am. I’s not just something I believe in; it’s become a way of life. I believe that every person ______ to feel someone realize their presence, whether he is ______ or nobody.

At work, I always used to say hello to the ______ of the company and ask him how our business was doing. But I was also speaking to the people in the cafe and the people who cleaned the buildings, and asked how their children were doing. One day, I asked the founder how ______ he thought I could go in his company. He said, “If you want to, you can get all the ______ to this seat.”

Now I’ve become vice president, but my mother’s advice is still in my heart. I have benefited a lot from opening my mouth and saying, “Hello.”

4 . I remember as a young child bringing a bunch of brilliant yellow flowers to my mother. It didn’t matter that the stems felt sticky or that both my parents cursed the presence of these flowers in the lawn. I thought they were beautiful!

And there were so many of them! We spent hours picking the flowers and then popping the blossoms off with a snap of our fingers. But the supply of dandelions (蒲公英) never ran out. My father or brothers would chop off all the heads with the lawnmower at least once a week, but that didn’t stop these hardy wonders.

And for those flowers that escaped the honor of being hand-delivered to my mother or the sharp blades of the lawnmower, there was another level of existence. The soft roundness of a dandelion gone to seed caused endless laughter of delight as we unconsciously spread this flower across the yard.

As I worked in my garden last week, pulling unwanted weeds out of the space that would become a haven for tomatoes, corn, peas and sunflowers, I again marveled at the flower that some call a weed.

And I thought, if only I had the staying power of a dandelion. If only I could stretch my roots so deep and straight that something tugging on my stem couldn’t separate me completely from the source that feeds me life. If only I could come back to face the world with a bright, sunshiny face after someone has run me over with a lawnmower or worse, purposely attacked me in an attempt to destroy me. If only I could spread love and encouragement as freely and fully as this flower spreads seeds of itself.

The lawns at my parents’ home are now beautiful green blankets. The only patches of color come from well-placed, well-controlled flowerbeds. Chemicals have managed to kill what human interference couldn’t. Still, I hope you and I can be different. I hope that we can stretch our roots deep enough that the strongest poison can’t reach our souls. I hope that we can overcome the poisons of anger, fear, hate, criticism and competitiveness.

6 . As a child, there was nothing I liked better than Sunday afternoons at my grandfather’s farm in western Pennsylvania. Surrounded by miles of stone walls, the house and field provided endless hours of fun for a city kid like me.

Since my first visit to the farm, I had wanted more than anything to be allowed to climb the stone walls surrounding the houses. My parents would never agree because the walls were so old that some stones were loose and falling. However, my idea to climb across those walls grew so strong that finally I had all my courage to enter the living room, where the adults had gathered after Sunday dinner.

“I want to climb the stone walls.” I said. “Heavens, no! You’ll hurt yourself!” The response was just as I’d expected. But before I left the room, I was stopped by my grandfather’s loud voice. “Now hold on just a minute.” I heard him say. “Let the boy climb the stone walls. He has to learn to do things for himself.”

“Go,” he said to me, “and come and see me when you get back.” For the next two and a half hours I climbed those old walls — and had the time of my life. Later I met with my grandfather to tell him about my adventures. I’ll never forget what he said. “Fred,” he said, smiling, “you made this day a special day just by being yourself. Always remember, there’s only one person in this whole world like you, and I like you exactly as you are.”

Many years have passed since then, and today I host the television program Mister Rogers’ Neighborhood, seen by millions of children throughout America. There have been changes over the years, but one thing remains the same: my message to children at the end of almost every visit. “There’s only one person in this whole world like you,” the kids will hear me say, “and people can like you exactly as you are.”

7 . Camel Conversation

A mother and a baby camel were lying around under a tree.

Then the baby camel asked, “Mom, _______ do camels have humps (驼峰)?”

The mother camel considered this and said, “We are desert animals and we have the humps to _______ water so we can survive with very _______ water.”

The baby camel _______ for a moment and then said, “Okay, why are our _______ long and our feet rounded?”

The mama _______, “They are meant for walking in the _______.”

The baby paused, and then asked, “Why are our eyelashes (睫毛) _______? Sometimes they get in my way.”

The mama responded, “Those long thick eyelashes _______ your eyes from the desert sand ________ the strong wind blows in the desert.”

The baby camel thought and thought. Then he said, “I see. So the hump is to store water when we are in the desert, the legs are for ________ through the desert and these eyelashes protect my eyes from the desert sand. Then why are we in the ________?”

We were given all ________ skills and abilities. These special gifts are to bring about the satisfaction we all ________. That satisfaction comes in helping others.

Don’t sit around in a zoo. Use your gifts and talents to help ________. You’ll be glad of what you did.

8 . I had a lot on my mind as I recalled my teddy bear (泰迪熊) on the snowiest day last year. Only twenty-four hours before, I had been _______ with it happily in our farmhouse. How quickly things _______ ! The house I had lived in disappeared. The fire had _______ all those things with my memories.

I have never known my mother to be so _______ . When picking up my ashen (灰白色的) clothing, she moved with emptiness (空虚). The _______ was heavy to us.

After moving to the temporary (临时的) house, my father told me dealing with this would cost _______ money. It brought about a wave of _______ and life became a struggle.

“Hey, Jason,” a classmate came up to me at lunchtime with a box in her hands. “Jason, we know what _______ a few days ago. This is not something you have to go through _______. We started up the Shoebox Fund for you. Almost every student in our school ________. We love you and we want you to have this.

My eyes were filled with ________, and I had never been so moved. I had felt so lonely for the days after the fire that I became ________, unwilling to communicate with others. But these people looked past the impolite behavior I had shown to them. They were my true friends and by sharing this ________, they were my family.

Yes, things are getting back to ________. But what I learned from this journey of discovery will ________ with me forever.

10 . “I am so sorry,” I tearfully said to my principal investigator (PI), explaining I would not be able to return to work as originally planned. Before I became a parent, I had assumed a baby would fit right into my academic plans. But now, as the end of my leave approached, I realized I couldn’t simply carry on as I always had. I was worried this decision might signal the end of my academic career — but I felt I had no other choice.

Thankfully, my PI had more foresight. He told me I didn’t need to resign and that he could offer me a contract that would allow me to contribute to our project from afar. It proved to be an absolute career lifeline tailored to me.

Then five years after stepping back from academia, I felt ready to re-enter more fully. Because I had been able to keep my hand in during my time away, the prospect was much less daunting than it would have been otherwise. I ended up landing a lecturer position that allowed me to slowly ease back in, focusing on teaching and scholarship with research taking a back seat. And when, 4 years on, a senior lectureship position came up in the very group I had left a decade earlier, the timing was right. With both of my children in “big school”, I was ready to really put my foot down on the career accelerator. I got the job.

Now, 6 months into my new role, I am happy to be right where it all began, with involvement in so many interesting projects. But what truly made the difference for me was the offer of what I needed during that time away. I hope more institutions and PIs can come up with creative provisions (条款) for those in their workforce who don’t want to give up their careers but want-or-need to take extended periods of leave. And to those who are taking such breaks, or considering it, know that returning is possible. Above all, on both sides: Please do not discount extended leavers. We have a lot to offer — if we are given the chance.