Tonight, my piano concert was the most important thing in my family. My grandparents were coming by plane to hear me play. Even my busy Aunt Dianne who is on TV every night reading the news, was coming.

    But one thing was for sure. I would never win an award for my piano playing. And that's just because the more I practiced ,the more nervous I got. So there I was, on stage, in my beautiful dress, and I sat down at the piano. But when I started to play, I hit a wrong note. I told myself to start over. But then I hit the wrong note again. It was as if I hadn't practiced at all.

    Finally the disaster was over. I ran off the stage. I couldn't understand why people were applauding. But they were. My mom and my dad had flowers for me, and we were all supposed to go out for a nice dinner, but I couldn't. I just wanted to go home and cry and never go anywhere again. After we went back home, Aunt Dianne just came in and sat down on the side of my bed.

    "It was my first night on the air," she said."I had never been on television before, and I made a mistake. I mispronounced my name and the name of the news show. And you know what? No one even noticed but me. Just like tonight, no one noticed—just you". Aunt Dianne was right. I think we are harder on ourselves than anyone else is. Maybe I will leave my room. And maybe, I'll play the piano again.

A Blessed Teacher

    I remembered Ricky came back to see me ten years after he was in my class. He told me how I had inadvertently(不经意地) changed his life.

    Ricky often gazed out the window during one of my ninth-grade history classes early in my teaching career. He was quiet, and his good grades and mild manner were why I did not move him away from the seat by the window.

    One day, I leaned over his shoulder and quietly asked, “What are you looking at? You gaze out of this window during every class.”

    He said, “I am looking at the band.”

    According to Ricky, I said, “If you like the band so much that you have to look at them during this class every day, I want you to go down to Mr. Overby (the band teacher) and tell him that I sent you. Tell him that you want to be in the band. Now turn around and finish working before the bell rings.”

    The next day Ricky went to Mr. Overby and told him I had sent him and he wanted to be in the band. He added that he did not know how to play any instrument.

    When Ricky visited me ten years later, he thanked me for telling him to go to Mr. Over by because he fell in love with music and discovered his musical talent that had not been tapped. His musical talent resulted in him getting a scholarship to college and earning a degree that now allowed him to provide for his family. Most of all, music had brought great pleasure and satisfaction to his life.

    After Ricky thanked me, I pointed out that he did all of the hard work it took to become the wonderfully talented person that he was. I did not make him walk downstairs to join the band, practice his instrument, and get the good grades that led to his college scholarship.

    Ricky responded that I could have yelled at him for looking out the window. Instead, I gave him an alternative that changed his whole life.

    After he left, I thought about his words. I realized that I was teaching children with every word I said, every action I took, and with every decision I made. Ricky's story raised my teaching bar. Most of all, I have never forgotten the lesson Ricky taught me, a blessed teacher.

    Even though it's not the most popular time of year to get married, I allow my thoughts to wander and consider the most unusual marriage habits across the world.

    In some parts of India it is believed that ghosts can stay with certain people of the living world. In general, girls who are born with a baby tooth and girls who are very ugly or have some facial damage are believed to be owned by ghosts. The only way to free from the ghosts is for the girl to marry an animal, typically a goat or a dog. She is free to marry a man later on, when the ghosts are proven to be freed from her. I wonder who makes this decision and how they come to their conclusion.

    In Korea, it is a custom for grooms to request that their successfully married friends carve them wooden ducks as a symbol of great marriage. Hand-carving a wooden duck can't be easy. This leads me to wonder why it's a duck and not another animal.

    Imagine being as young as 5 and already your parents are sending you to a fat farm where you are forced to eat too much food until you vomit (呕吐). Then, the old woman watching you eat forces you to eat that vomit. This is not a TV show. This is really happening in some parts of Africa. Men there want women fat; the fatter the better. It doesn't matter if it ruins their health or make them live shorter lives. All that matters is that the woman is as large as possible in order to sell her for a high price when she reaches the age for marrying.

    No one has a temper naturally so good, that it does not need attention and cultivation, and no one has a temper so bad, but that, by proper culture, it may become pleasant. One of the best disciplined tempers ever seen, was that of a gentleman who was naturally quick, irritable, rash, and violent; but, by taking care of the sick, and especially of mentally deranged(疯狂的) people, he so completely mastered himself that he was never known to be thrown off his guard.

    There is no misery so constant, so upsetting, and so intolerable to others, as that of having a character which is your master. There are corners at every turn in life, against which we may run, and at which we may break out in impatience, if we choose.

    Look at Roger Sherman, who rose from a humble occupation to a seat in the first Congress of the United States, and whose judgment was received with great respect by that body of distinguished men. He made himself master of his temper and cultivated it as a great business in life. There are one or two instances which show this part of his character in a light that is beautiful.

    One day, after having received his highest honors, he was sitting and reading in his sitting room. A student, in a room close by, held a looking­glass in such a position as to pour the reflected rays of the sun directly in Mr. Sherman's face. He moved his chair, and the thing was repeated. A third time the chair was moved, but the looking­glass still reflected the sun in his eyes. He laid aside his book, went to the window, and many witnesses of the rude behavior expected to see the ungentlemanly student severely punished. He raised the window gently, and then—shut the window blind!

    I can not help providing another instance of the power he had acquired over himself. He was naturally possessed of strong passions, but over these he at length obtained an extraordinary control. He became habitually calm and self­possessed. Mr Sherman was one of those men who are not ashamed to maintain the forms of religion in their families. One morning he called them all together as usual to lead them in prayer to God. The "old family Bible" was brought out and laid on the table.

    Mr Sherman took his seat and placed beside him one of his children, a child of his old age. The rest of the family were seated around the room, several of whom were now grown­ups. Besides these, some of the tutors of the college were boarders in the family and were present at the time. His aged mother occupied a corner of the room, opposite the place where the distinguished Judge sat.

    At length, he opened the Bible and began to read. The child who was seated beside him made some little disturbance, upon which Mr Sherman paused and told it to be still. Again he continued but again he had to pause to scold the little offender, whose playful character would scarcely permit it to be still. At this time he gently tapped its ear. The blow, if blow it might be called, caught the attention of his aged mother, who now with some effort rose from the seat and tottered across the room. At length, she reached the chair of Mr Sherman, and in a moment, most unexpectedly to him, she gave him a blow on the ear with all the force she could gather. "There," said she, "you strike your child, and I will strike mine."

    For a moment, the blood was seen mounting to the face of Mr Sherman. But it was only for a moment and all was calm and mild as usual. He paused; he raised his glasses; he cast his eye upon his mother; again it fell upon the book from which he had been reading. Not a word escaped him; but again he calmly pursued the service, and soon sought in prayer an ability to set an example before his household which should be worthy of their imitation. Such a victory was worth more than the proudest one ever achieved on the field of battle.

    The clearing of my parents' home has made me think about the importance, even centrality of books to the house's life and soul. The house, and our lives in it, would not have been the same without books. The force of the statement comes home to me as I see what happens when shelves are emptied. The rooms suddenly look uncomfortably bare.

    I always rather took it for granted that books furnished a room. The only rooms in our house without books were the dining-room and the bathrooms. Otherwise there were books everywhere: in all the bedrooms, in the drawing-room and in the piano room which became my parents' comfortable winter study.

    I couldn't help feeling that books were rather like people: some more formal and boring, others more entertaining; some simply for show, others with unpromising outsides but rich interiors. They did more, in fact, than furnish a room; they were companions who could offer insights, good advice.

    Now the books are being contributed (not all, to be sure, but very many), and I fear for their future, almost as if they were refugees (难民). “Habent sua fata libelli”, goes as the old Latin saying, originally written by Terentianus; it meant that the fate and future of books were determined by the capability of the reader. But the meaning of the phrase has been misunderstood by time and is now associated with the physical fate of particular books, how they have passed from owner to owner. This is how Walter Benjamin read the saying when he wrote his essay “Unpacking My Library”, which analyses the extraordinarily close relationship between a collector and his or her books.

    When I deal with the books that many are going to charity shops, I hope they will find good homes, I can't help wondering if my generation is the last that will oversee such a process. Books are disappearing, as more and more are bought in electronic form and exist only as bytes of information on e-books or other devices. Does this matter? Could books become more spiritual, as they lose their physicality?

    Scientists are attempting to extract (提取) cells from a 40,000-year-old horse in hope of using the sample to clone the extinct (灭绝的) species back into existence. The male baby horse was discovered in 2018 in permafrost (永冻土) in northeastern Siberia of Russia.

    A team of scientists from South Korea and Russia believes the young horse, called the Lenskaya or Lena horse, was about 20 days old when it died. The species of horse, now extinct, is between 30,000 and 40,000 years old. Thanks to the terrible coldness, the animal's tissue was preserved enough for the scientists to obtain samples.

    Semyon Grigoriev, head of the lab at the Mammoth (猛犸象) Museum of the North-Eastern Federal University in Yakutsk, said the horse was "well - preserved" and a "great find". There is no damage to the horse's body and even its hair is undamaged. The unfortunate animal, according to Gngo-riev, "could have drowned after falling into some kind of a natural trap."

    Hwang Woo-suk, a researcher from South Korea working on the project, said, "If researchers find a cell, they will do their best to clone the animal. If we get live cells from this ancient baby horse, it would be wonderful in terms of cloning."

    After that, they will make a cloned embryo (胚胎) and a female horse carry it as its mother. Hwang said modern-day horses are "very similar to the ancient one," so there would be no problem getting help from a modern-day female horse.

    The scientists are hoping the experiment on the baby horse will give them experience in progressing toward their ambitious goal-bringing back the extinct woolly mammoth.

    "If we manage to clone the horse-it will be the first step to cloning the mammoth." Hwang said.