The Winners Club is a bank accountspecially designed for teenagers. It has been made to help you better manageyour money. The Winners Club is a transaction account (交易账户)whereyou receive a key­card so you can get to your money 24/7—that's 24 hours a day, 7 days a week!

It's a club with impressive features forteenagers：

● No account keeping fees!

You're no millionaire so we don't expectyou to pay large fees. In fact, there are no account keeping or transactionfees!

● Excellent interest rates!

You want your money to grow. The WinnersClub has a good rate of interest which gets even better if you make at leasttwo deposits (存款)without taking them out in a month.

● Convenient

Teenagers are busy — we get that. Youmay never need to come to a bank at all. With the Winners Club you can chooseto use handy tellers and to bank from home using the phone and theInternet...You can have money directly deposited into your Winners Clubaccount. This could be your pocket money or your pay from your part-time job!

● Mega magazine included

    Along with your regular report, you willreceive a FREE magazine full of good ideas to make even more of your money.There are also fantastic offers and competitions only for Winners Club members.

    The Winners Club is a great choice forteenagers. And it is so easy to join. Simply fill in an application form. Youwill have to get permission from your parent or guardian (so we can organizethat cool key­card) but it is easy. We can't wait to hear from you. It's thebest way to choose to be a winner!

    The Come-back Coffeehouse   The sign in the window read "Carl's Coffee Shoppe," spelled the old-fashioned way. Hallie shook her head and wondered how many times she had suggested an alternative. She entered the shop and saw only one person.

    "I could help with the books, Dad", Hallie offered,"There's not much you could do." Her father signed. "How about if you clean the counters instead?" His statement made her feel like a little girl instead of a senior in high school. Hallie sprayed some cleanser and ran a cloth over the worn counter tops . After she had washed a few of the old eggshell-colored cups, she began her homework. At closing time, Hallie's parents sat beside her. "You know the shop has not been profitable lately," Mr. Rhodes began. "We need to decide if it is even worth keeping it open." "We're going to visit Uncle Harold over spring vacation." Mrs. Rhodes continued. "He can look over the books and tell us what our options are. You and AuntTess will run the shop for the week."

    By spring vacation Hallie was ready for an adventure. Hllie's parents gave some instructions, and said good-bye. Hallie stared absently out the window at the passersby: young people on their way to work, and kids on their school vacation. They were not the same people that her grandpa Carl had served. Suddenly Hallie had an idea. She confided in Aunt Tess, who approved. The two eagerly set to work.

At the end of the week, Hallie was coming out from the kitchen when she saw her parents standing in the shop, confused. She smiled asher parents stared at the teens around the counter and the young families seated at the tables.

    "Welcome back!" Hallie swept her arms to present there staurant's cheerful new decoration. Bright, attractive coverings spread over the tables, and modern posters hung on the walls, while, colorful mismatched dishes contributed to the pleasant atmosphere."

    "I brought board games from home," Hallie added excitedly, "and the bookstore down the street donated the posters. When we talked to our friends about what we were doing, they were happy to give us some dishes." Hallie held her breath as she waited for her parents' reaction.

    "Everyone certainly seems to like the changes," noted Mrs. Rhodes.

    "Speaking of changes," Mr. Rhodes said,"I see our name has changed, too."

    "Do you mind? I changed our name to 'Come-Back Coffeehouse'to make the shop sound welcoming, as in 'Please come back again'..."

    A smile spread across her father's face. "The newname is fitting. Thanks to you, this place certainly has made a come back!"

    Kunta wondered why the white people had done this to him. Born a free man, he was now in chains. Heavy iron chains around his feet and hands were fixed to a metal bar that ran round the hall about ten centimeters off the ground. He was just able to lie down on the ground, but could not stand up.

    Kunta had been seized in the forest and then hit on the head with a hard object. When he woke up, his hands and feet had already been tied together. What shocked him most was that the men who carried him were black. He reasoned with them, and tried to persuade them to set him free. But they would not listen to him. When they came to the river, a white man was waiting in the boat for them. There was an argument about money, so it seemed, in a language that Kunta did not understand. Finally, Kunta was thrown into the bottom of the boat and covered with an old smelly cloth. The men took him in their boat to the castle on the coast where he was now held prisoner.

    Another thing which shocked Kunta was that women were held in the castle too. He could hear their crying, also children's voices. What was to become of them all, he wondered. For all his life, he had known that people suddenly disappeared from their villages. He had known that it was not safe to travel alone in the forest near the coast. But why did white people want to catch Africans and put them in chains? Would they be killed or even eaten? The situation seemed hopeless and he knew his life was in danger.

    Worse was to come. A few days later about 140 black people were taken and put on a tall sailing ship waiting off the coast. Once on the boat, they were taken below and their chains were fixed to two bars that ran the length of the ship. Their feet were fixed to one bar and their hands to another bar. Thus they lay on hard wooden boards, unable to stand up or move around.

    The sea journey lasted over sixty days and nights. They had rough weather and Kunta's back bled from rolling over on the hard wooden boards. Many of the men fell sick with fever. They sighed and cried out for more water, but food and water were only given out once a day. Once in a while sailors came down, Kunta thought, to carry sick men upstairs for treatment. When the ship finally arrived in a port, the wooden cover was opened wide and Kunta could see in daylight for the first time across the part of the ship where he had been chained. About a third of the people who had been chained up below at the beginning of the journey were missing.

    Two things changed my life: my mother and a white, plastic, daisy bike basket. I would be a different person if my mom hadn't turned a silly bicycle accessory(配件) into a life lesson I carry with me today.

    It was summer and, one day, my mother drove me to the bike shop to get a tire fixed — and there it was in the window. White, shiny, plastic and decorated with daisies, the basket seemed so appealing and I knew I had to have it.

    "Mom, please can I get it? I'll do extra chores for as long as you say. I'll do anything, but I need that basket. I love that basket. Please, Mom. Please?"

    "You know," she said, gently rubbing my back while we both stared at what I believed was the coolest thing ever, "If you save up, you could buy this yourself."

    "By the time I make enough it'll be gone!"

    "Maybe Roger here could hold it for you," she smiled at Roger, the bike guy.

    "For that long? He can't hold it for that long, Mom. Someone else will buy it. Please, Mom, please?"

    "There might be another choice," she said. My mother bought the beautiful basket and put it safely out of reach in some hiding place I couldn't find. Each week I eagerly counted my growing nest egg earned by extra work here and there (washing the car, helping my mother make dinner, delivering milk around the neighborhood). And then, weeks later maybe, I counted, re-counted and jumped for joy. Oh, I made it! I finally had the exact amount we'd agreed upon.

    Days later, the unthinkable happened. A neighborhood girl I'd played with appeared with the exact same basket fixed to her shiny, new bike. I rode my bike fast home to tell my mother about this disaster, this horrible turn of events.

    And then came the lesson I've taken with me through my life: "Honey, your basket is extra-special," Mom said, gently wiping away my hot tears. "Your basket is special because you paid for it yourself."

    That little "a" with a circle around it that is found in e-mail addresses is most commonly referred to as the "at" symbol. Surprisingly though, there is no official, universal name for this sign. There are lots of strange terms to describe the @ symbol.

Before it became the fixed symbol for e-mail, the symbol was mostly used to represent the cost or weight of something. For instance, if you bought 6 apples, you might write it as 6 apples @ $1.11 each.

    With the introduction of e-mail came the popularity of the @ symbol. The @ symbol separates a person's online user name from his mail server address, for instance joe@uselessknowledge.com. Its widespread use on the Internet made it necessary to put this symbol on keyboards in countries that had never seen or used the symbol before. As a result, there is really no official name for this symbol.

    The actual origin of the @ symbol remains unknown. History tells us that the @ symbol came from the tired hands of the monks(僧侣) in the Middle Ages. During the Middle Ages when there were no printing presses, every letter of a word had to be copied by hand for each copy of a published book. The monks that performed these long and boring copying duties looked for ways to reduce the number of strokes (笔划) per word for common words.

    Although the word "at" is quite short, it was such a common word in texts and documents that monks in the Middle Ages thought it would be good idea to shorten the word "at" even more. As a result, the monks left out the "t" and created a circle — getting rid of two strokes.

    I was in Walt Disney World with my son, Daniel, who is autistic (患自闭症的), and at that time he was 7 years old. My wife and our three other sons were with us too. He was having one of his melt down screaming tantrums (发怒), only God knows why. So my wife and I decided I would take the bus back to the hotel, and she would stay in the park with the other three children.

After we got on the bus, the screaming continued. My son looks "normal". To the many people on the bus, he appeared to just be a kid screaming — or a spoiled child who did not get his special toy that day. It did not take long — less than a minute — before the screaming brought about stares, then glares from the other passengers.

    To my shame, I found myself losing my temper at my own son. I was embarrassed, angry, and frustrated, and felt cheated by God for not being able to enjoy a normal vacation with my family because of him. I started to wonder what life would be like without having to deal with this cross (痛苦).

    And just as the reactions of the other passengers were becoming most intense, a man seated just in front of me turned around to face me. I cheered myself up for his advice on how to raise a well-behaved child.

    He said calmly, "Is he alright?" I said, "He's autistic." Then the man said, "It's alright." And he smiled. That's all.

    And suddenly, all the anger building up inside me was gone. I almost wept for shame at how I had felt a moment before. It no longer mattered what the other people thought. My son was my gift from God.

    I will never forget that man, nor his small, simple act of kindness and understanding. I truly believe he was my son's guardian angel that day maybe mine too.