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          One early morning, I went into the living room to find my mother reading a thick book called Best Loved Poems to Read Again and Again. My interest was aroused only by the fact that the word “Poems”appeared in big, hot pink letters.

      “Is it good?” I asked her.

“Yeah,” she answered. “There's one I really like and you'll like it, too.' I leaned forward.

“‘Patty Poem,'” she read the title. Who is Patty? I wondered. The poem began:

She never puts her toys away,

                Just leaves them scattered(散乱的)where they lay,…      

The poem was just three short sections. The final one came quickly:

          When she grows and gathers poise(稳重),        

           I'll miss her harum-scarum(莽撞的) noise,        

           And look in vain(徒劳地) for scattered toys.       

And I'll be sad.      

    A terrible sorrow was hed over me. Whoever Patty was, she was a mean girl. Then,the shock.

“It'syou, honey,” My mother said sadly.

    To my mother, the poem revealed a parent's affection when her child grows up and leaves. To me, the “she” in the poem was horror. It was my mama who would be sad. It was so terrible I burst out crying.

    “What's wrong?” my mother asked.

    “Oh Mama,” I cried. “I don't want to grow up ever!”

      She smiled. “Honey, it's okay. You're not growing up anytime soon. And when you do, I'll still love you, okay?”

    “ Okay,”I was still weeping. My panic has gone. But I could not help thinking about that silly poem. After what seemed like a safe amount of time, I read the poem again and was confused. It all fit so well together, like a puzzle. The language was simple, so simple I could plainly understand its meaning, yet it was still beautiful. I was now fascinated by the idea of poetry, words that had the power to make or break a person's world.

        I have since fallen in love with other poems, but “Patty Poem” remains my poem. After all, “Patty Poem” gave me my love for poetry not because it was the poem that lifted my spirits, but because it was the one that hurt me the most.

    Long before they can actually speak, babies pay special attention to the speech they hear around them. Within the first month of their lives, babies' responses to the sound of the human voice will be different from their responses to other sorts of hearing stimulation. They will stop crying when they hear a person talking, but not if they hear a bell or the sound of a rattle. At first, the sounds that a baby notices might be only those words that receive the heaviest emphasis and that often occur at the ends of utterances(讲话，说话). By the time they are six or seven weeks old, babies can detect the difference between syllables pronounced with rising and falling tones. Very soon, these differences in adult stress and intonation can influence babies' emotional states and behavior. Long before they develop actual language comprehension, babies can sense when an adult is happy or angry, attempting to begin or end new behavior, and so on, merely on the basis of clues such as the rate, volume, and melody of adult speech.

    Adults make it as easy as they can for babies to pick up a language by exaggerating(夸张) such clues. One researcher observed babies and their mothers in six diverse cultures and found that, in all six languages, the mothers used simplified utterances and nonsense sounds, and transformed certain sounds into baby talk. Other researchers have noted that when mothers talk to babies who are only a few months old, they exaggerate the pitch, loudness, and intensity of their words. They also exaggerate their facial expressions, hold vowels(元音) longer, and emphasize certain words.

    More significant for language development than their response to general intonation is observation that tiny babies can make relatively fine distinctions between speech sounds. In other words, babies enter the world with the ability to make those precisely perceptual（知觉的，感性的） recognition that are necessary if they are to acquire listening language.

    Babies obviously obtain pleasure from sound input, too: even as young as nine months they will listen to songs or stories, although the words themselves are beyond their understanding. For babies, language is a sensory-motor delight rather than the route to boring meaning that it often is for adults.

    I waited half an hour, set the board, and sat in the studio, reviewing my questions until the telephone lines flashed.

    "Hello?"

    "This is Connie Chung. I'm so sorry I'm late."

    Connie Chung was one of the only four women anchors（主播）to make it into the club of major evening network television news. For almost an hour we talked about the industry. When I asked if she ever had an instructor throughout her trials, she turned around and offered to instruct me. When I asked why she decided to do it, she simply replied, "Because you're good."

    That afternoon I rushed home and told my mother what had happened. Without looking up, she just said "Good for you." Hearing this, I felt a sense of loss.  Her consistent response always made me feel under-appreciated.

    Until then I had been searching for something that I would never get—that sense of love and acceptance in a house full of negativity（消极）.

    I knew I needed to get rid of all the negativity in my life first, so I packed my bags and walked out of the house, thinking a risk would allow me to open myself to the world again and receive all the positive energy that I needed.

    Then radio became my way of connecting with others. My ability to book high-level guests and celebrities（名人）was gradually recognized and eventually all the words of encouragement from past guests and colleagues helped me to re-build my confidence levels. "I can do this," I kept telling myself, and pushed even harder to find my next aim.

    People had faith in me, so I developed faith in myself. Their positive attitudes towards themselves and towards me helped me develop my own positive attitude, leading to productive interactions with celebrities and adding to my list of instructors.

    I may not have started life surrounded by positivity but I surely feel that I am surrounded by it now. It's amazing how positivity builds on itself.

    How far would you go for your kids education? That's a question many parents are asking in the wake of the college cheating scandal(丑闻)involving 38 wealthy parents around the country, including actresses Lori Loughlin and Felicity Huffman. Here's how far I went. In the fall of 2017 my husband and I lost our jobs. We had to tell our daughter, Casey, that we couldn't afford to send her back to school for her junior year at Fordham University. We decided the best choice for our family would be for Casey to sit out a year. We promised that we would get her back the following year. Casey decided to spend the year volunteering in South Africa On Sept 30, 2017, we put our oldest child on a plane halfway around the world. Casey worked as a tutor teaching kids math, English and music in Johannesburg. We did get Casey back in school in time. When she returned to the campus, she studied harder. She isn't what she used to be. Each day is marked by gratitude because she knows what it is like not to be able to get an education.

    I wonder why the college cheating scandal happened and I think it boils down to this: Parents want to create a comfort zone for their kids. Of course, we want the best for our kids but sometimes we forget that real growth doesn't happen in times of comfort; those valuable lessons come when we are forced to think in ways we otherwise wouldn't have.

    While I did less for my child than these wealthy parents did in terms of means, in other ways I did more. I taught her that disappointment is a part of life and we should face it bravely rather than avoid it. My husband and I showed Casey that her strength is in her struggle. That's how far I went for my kid s education. And I dare say she is wiser and better off for it.

Blameless

    I was a freshman in college when I met the Whites. They were completely different from my own family, yet I felt at home with them immediately. Jane White and I became friends at school, and her family welcomed me like a long-lost cousin.

    In my family, it was always important to place blame when anything bad happened.

    "Who did this?" my mother would scream about a dirty kitchen.

    "This is all your fault, Katharine," my father would insist when the cat got out or the dishwasher broke.

    From the time we were little, my sister, brothers and I told on each other. We set a place for blame at the dinner table.

    But the Whites didn't worry about who had done what. They picked up the pieces and moved on with their lives. The beauty of this was driven home to me the summer Jane died.

    In July, the White sisters and I decided to take a car trip from their home in Florida to New York. The two older sisters, Sarah and Jane, were college students, and the youngest, Amy, had recently turned sixteen. Proud of having a new driver's license, Amy was excited about practicing her driving on the trip. She showed off her license to everyone she met.

    The big sisters shared the driving of Sarah's new car during the first part of the trip, but when they reached less crowded areas, they let Amy take over. Somewhere in South Carolina, we pulled off the highway to eat. After lunch, Amy got behind the wheel. She came to a crossroads with a stop sign. Whether she was nervous or just didn't see the sign no one would ever know, but Amy continued into the crossroads without stopping. The driver of a large truck, unable to stop in time, ran into our car.

    Jane was killed immediately.

    I was slightly injured. The most difficult thing that I've ever done was to call the Whites to tell them about the accident and that Jane had died. Painful as it was for me to lose a good friend, I knew that it was far worse for them to lose a child.

    When Mr. and Mrs. White arrived at the hospital, they found their two daughters sharing a room. Sarah had a few cuts on the head; Amy's leg was broken. They hugged us all and cried tears of sadness and of joy at seeing their daughters. They wiped away the girls' tears and made a few jokes at Amy as she learned to use her crutches(拐杖).

    To both of their daughters, and especially to Amy, over and over they simply said, "We're so glad that you're alive."

    I was astonished. No blame. No accusations.

    Later, I asked the Whites why they never talked about the fact that Amy was driving and had run a stop sign.

    Mrs. White said, "Jane's gone, and we miss her terribly. Nothing we say or do will ever bring her back. But Amy has her whole life ahead of her. How can she lead a full and happy life if she feels we blame her for her sister's death? "

    They were right. Amy graduated from the University of California and got married several years ago. She works as a teacher of learning-disabled students. She's also a mother of two little girls of her own, the oldest named Jane.