Augusto Esquivel is a sculptor who, in his own words, is “crazy with comparisons of reality and potential and the balance between them.” Perhaps the best example of what he's talking about are his most famous creations: the suspended(悬挂的) button sculptures.

Made entirely from buttons hanging on various lengths of string, Esquivel's sculptures are made to look like common objects: a piano, a gumball machine, and even a toilet. If it wasn't for the clear string hanging above, these objects, these sculptures, would look solid, yet you can put your hands right through them. The process starts with him deciding on a subject and setting the acrylic （丙烯酸树脂）from where the buttons are being suspended. He buys buttons of different shapes and sizes, paints them with spray paint, and carefully hangs them. After that, it's a manner of hanging each individual button, which takes a lot of time. For his piano, for example, he individually hung over 60 pounds worth of tiny buttons.

Esquivel's sculptures, while mostly housed inside art galleries, perfectly capture one of the main principles of street art: something that is eye-catching and something that invites interaction. Often the best sculptures outside the art galleries aren't the ones behind guards and fencing, but the ones people can go right up to and touch. In Vancouver, a series of laughing old men are attracting people for pictures and to just generally hang around, but the people who simply walk by and see the sculptures almost always leave with a smile on their face. That's good street art: it draws the viewer in rather than relying on a gallery to draw in an audience and point them to certain pieces.

Esquivel's art is not only a presentation of talent, something that mentions larger philosophical questions, like the ones he stated above, but also just the right combination of interesting idea and painstaking work. One can look at his work in a critical way, or simply appreciate his idea and execution(艺术品的制作).

    As a young boy, I sometimes traveled the country roads with my dad. He was a rural mill carrier, and on Saturdays he would ask me to go with him. Driving through the countryside was always an adventure: There were animals to see, people to visit, and chocolate cookies if you knew where to stop, and Dad did.

    In the spring, Dad delivered boxes full of baby chickens, and when 1 was a boy it was such a fun to stick your finger 'through one of the holes of the boxes and let the baby birds peck on your fingers.

    On Dad' s final day of work, it took him well into the evening to complete his rounds because at least one member from each family was waiting at their mailbox to thank him for his friendship and his years of service. "Two hundred and nineteen mailboxes on my route." he used to say, "and a story at every one. " One lady had no mailbox, so Dad took the mail in to her every day because she was nearly blind. Once inside, he read her mail and helped her pay her bills.

Mailboxes were sometimes used for things other than mail. One note left in a mailbox read. "Nat, take these eggs to Marian; she's baking a cake and doesn't have any eggs. " Mailboxes might be buried in the snow, or broken, or lying on the groom:. bat the mail was always delivered On cold days Dad might find one of his customers waiting for him with a cup of hot chocolate. A young wrote letters but had no stamps, so she left a few button on the envelope in the mailbox; Dad paid for the stamps. One businessman used to leave large amounts of cash in his mailbox for Dad to take to the bank. Once, the amount came to 8 32,000.

    A dozen years ago, when I traveled back to my hometown on the sad occasion of Dad's death,  the mailboxes along the way reminded me of some of his stories. I thought I knew them all, but that wasn't the case.

    As I drove home, I noticed two lamp poles, one on each side of the street. When my dad was around, those poles supported wooden boxes about four feet off the ground. One box was painted green and the other was red, and each had a long narrow hole at the top with white lettering: SANTA CLAUS, NORTH POLE. For years children had dropped letters to Santa through those holes.

    I made a turn at the comer and drove past the post office and across the railroad tracks to our house. Mom and I were sitting at the kitchen table when I heard footsteps. There, at the door, stood Frank Townsend, Dad's postmaster and great friend for many years. So we all sat down at the table and began to tell stories.

    At one point Frank looked at me with tears in his eyes. " What are we going to do about the letters this Christmas?" he asked.

    "The letters?"

    'I guess you never knew. "

    "Knew what?"

    " Remember, when you were a kid and you used to put your letters to Santa in those green and red boxes on Main Street? It was your dad who answered all those letters every year. "

    I just sat there with tears in my eyes. It wasn't hard for me to imagine Dad sitting at the old table in our basement reading those letters and answering each one. I have since spoken with several of the people who received Christmas letters during their childhood, and they told me how amazed they were that Santa had known so much about their homes and families.

For me, just knowing that story about my father was the gift of a lifetime.

    Settled by the Celts, invaded by the Romans and the Normans, and ruled by the English, Wales' population has regularly changed over the ages. Wales, particularly South Wales, became a melting pot (熔炉) of European nationalities and cultures. At first workers from England, Ireland and the rural areas of Wales rushed into the coal mines of South Wales. By 1911, workers from Ireland, Italy and Spain had joined the industrial workforce (劳动大军) there. Many of these newcomers were prepared to work for less pay.

    But during this period, workers, dissatisfied with regular pay cuts, poor safety, returned to the land. In 1891, the rural population of Wales was about 616,000 and by 1911 just over 649,000 people lived and worked in these areas.

       The rural population continues to grow slowly even today. People from richer parts of the UK, particularly southern England, are buying holiday homes in Wales. In some areas this has led to a lack of housing for local people. This, combined with the lack of employment in rural Welsh communities, has started a new movement of people in search of jobs and homes into the towns and cities of Wales and to other parts of the UK and Europe.

    As so many Welsh people have moved to other countries over the last 200 years, it's really no surprise that many visitors come to see friends and relatives. These visitors strengthen their links to their land of origin and continue to support the Welsh's development. During the hot summer days, about 28% of the visitors visit the countryside and nearly 70% visit the seaside.

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    My grandfather grew up in war-torn Europe. When German soldiers occupied his hometown, the thriving city of Tarow, Poland, he refused to obey them and eventually joined the Soviet army to fight for his country's freedom. “Stand straight, stand tall,” he told himself.

    After the war, in 1947, he boarded a boat for Manhattan. He was hungry and suffering from seasickness. All alone in a new country, he was frightened about his future. Still, he marched head-on into the hustle of the streets of New York. Soon he met other European immigrants, each of them trying to find his or her own way. If they could do it, why couldn't he? “Stand straight, stand tall,” he would remind himself.

    Thanks to the help of a loyal and trusting friend, my grandfather gained a jewelry booth on Canal Street, New York City. He once told me how nervous he was on that first day of work. He was not only trying to learn this tough new business, but also a new language.

    To his surprise, the men in neighboring booths－who could have taken advantage of him－offered their help and advice. Within months, my grandfather was commanding his spot behind the counter, selling diamonds and cultured pearls as if he'd been doing it his whole life.

    Stand straight and stand tall.

    In later years, my grandfather would take both my mother and her sister down the aisle at their weddings. As he stood with each of them, he thought about their new beginnings, and of the adventures and journeys they would experience together. He also thought about the children who would one day carry on his family name.

    I am so proud to be one of those children. Listening to my grandfather's remarkable experiences has changed the way I view my own life.

We can create learning moments that students remember forever if we open up our classrooms to awe and wonder. 

Toward the end of my high school year, our Spanish teacher organized a trip to see an Andean band perform in Philadelphia. My classmates and I egged one another on ironically（讽刺地）:Who could enjoy the show? The performers' clothing seemed odd. The instruments, strange. But then the performers kicked in, dancing to their bombo and wancara drums around the stage and the panpipes and quena announced a kind of sound—new to us. 

We had spent too little time discussing the culture of the Inca in social studies but its traditions came alive for us that evening. Once the wonderful performance lit up the stage and the hall filled up with music, my teenage cynicism disappeared. I rose out of my chair to dance with honest joy. 

I have spent the last seven years living and working in South America. But my thirst for cultural exploration and a desire to understand the world outside my language and country has been alive longer than that. Sometimes I think that night dancing to those ancient rhythms unlocked this fascination. Why do I remember it so clearly decades later?

In his recent book Awe: The New Science of Everyday Wonder and How It Can Transform Your Life, psychology professor Dacher Keltner explains that "brief moments of awe are as good for your mind and body as anything you might do." Besides being a memorable emotion, awe boosts curiosity, builds humility, helps with critical thinking, and makes people feel more connected. It even makes us happier. "Twenty years into teaching happiness, "Keltner writes about how to find deep happiness, "I have an answer: FIND AWF."

Moving forward, let's do our best to build instances of awe into our curriculum（课程）. So when our former students approach us on the subway years later, they will recall the magical moments from their days spent in our classes.