I hit him again and again but it didn't last long. A teacher1to the scene and broke us up She started telling us about how to settle problems without 2like most teachers would say. I knew I was3.

    It was very hot when I was coming out of the dining hall. Then I saw Jeff playing with the4 basketball. Our school was short on basketballs to play with5 the quickest person to6and leave was the one who could get the 7 Being a heavy cater, I 8staying a while in the lunch room.

    Every day Jeff would get the ball, which9me. He would always keep it to 10running and shooting. That day I got fed up and11 took the ball away from him, running as fast as my12could go to the other side of the court. I began13as if nothing ever happened. For a while he stood there14me with the ball. As I went up for another lay-up, I saw Jeff charging at me like a bull out of the corner of my eye. He15 to pull the ball back from my hands. This16us to fight over it. After the teacher broke us up and talked to us, we17 We decided to call some of our friends to play a game with the ball18we would all have something to do.

    Both of us learned a19 from this situation. We learned to share instead of being20Surprisingly, none of us got in trouble for the fight.

    There are thousands of people across the United States without any food or shelter(住所). Every Saturday or Sunday night, my family and I go out and 1the homeless people in the city.

    There is one2thing I like to mention here. Before we begin our3, my family and I do not eat. We do this4we know how it feels to be hungry. We all get together in the kitchen and5the food. We then bag the food for 30 or 6 people. I like to write a special7on the bags like “God loves you”. A lot of people8homeless people. Not all homeless people are bad people. Some are really9. Many people hate them10no good reason. In the beginning, when my family and I went out on the street, we had to11their trust. Later, as they12us every week, they started to trust us. We13know some of their names. We all have to keep in mind that they also have14. Some of them shake our hands for giving them food, and15 us. Some of them do really funny dances because they are16.

    We have become17close to a man named Tony and his wife. After meeting with them several times, he has told us a lot about his18. He graduated from college and has a PHD. He used to teach French and Spanish.

    After we get done feeding the homeless, it makes me19what I have at home. Sometimes it makes me sad, and makes my mom cry. I love feeding the homeless, and 20in someone's life.

A Game of Light and Shade

    It was a sunny day. I had gone up and down the tower when, outside the door at the foot, a blind man came toward me. In a moment, he disappeared up the stairs. I looked at the sign that said "To the Tower", and decided to1him.

    I caught up with him in the ticket office. There I was2to see the attendant (工作人员) selling him a ticket as if he were any other visitor. Then, with the ticket in one hand and3the wall with the fingers of the other, the blind man reached the stairs4to the hallway.

    "That man is blind. What would a blind man climb up the tower for?" I said to the attendant, expecting him to show some5, but he didn't answer.

"Not the6certainly," I said. "Perhaps he wants to7."

    I bought a ticket and8up the stairs. The man hadn't gone as far as I9. A third of the way up the tower, I heard his10. I slowed down and followed him at a little11. He stopped from time to time. When he got to the balcony (阳台), I was a dozen steps12. As I reached it, I saw him at the corner of the tower.

    At last, after ten minutes, I13him. "Excuse me," I said as politely as I could, "but I am curious to know14you came up."

    He smiled. "Coming up the stairs, you will notice how not just light but sun 15into the tower through the narrow windows here and there, so that you can feel the16—the cool stairs suddenly become quite warm—and how up here behind the wall there is17, but as soon as going opposite a window you can find the sun. There is no18so good as this for feeling the difference between light and shade. It is not the first time I've come up."

    The blind man seemed quite19, just like a child who was enjoying his favorite games. He told me the truth that blind men can also find the beauty in life20 they cannot enjoy the sights of the world.

    The day I received my letter of acceptance to NewYork university, I was extremely excited. It was my dream university. And my1 were pleased for me. But they also hadn't2 me to get into such a competitive school. In fact, the best thing they ever did for me was to 3  me from doing things4 - indeed, when I was in elementary school, they offered to buy me a present5I got a C.

    It 6 when I was in the third grade. An only child in an Asian family, I had just 7 with my family to Los Angeles. Months into the third grade, I developed a strong feeling of8 about getting bad grades. Seeing my anxiety, Dad said, "Kate, tell you what. If you get a C or 9, I'll buy you a present. If you score higher than that, I won't buy you anything, because you won't10 it."

    Clearly dad wasn't the 11Asian tiger parent, pressuring me to work tirelessly for the best12, and neither was my mom. They didn't want to push me. They wanted me to be13 and healthy. Dad's 14  of a "failing grade" gift amazingly15 my worries and reassure. What's more, I16getting A's and B's throughout high school, but without the added stress and fear of failing. I think it was my parents' lack of stress on grades that gave me 17 to encourage my own desire for achievements. I now realize I was 18 when I thought I didn't receive a present from my dad that day. He gave me two invaluable19 : the space to develop my own desire for excellence, and the healthy mind to 20it.

    My father was a self-taught mandolin（曼陀林琴）player. He could not read, but if he heard a tune several times, he could play it. Occasionally, he 1 play for the local radio station.

    Dad loved playing the mandolin for his family. He knew we enjoyed his playing. If he could give 2 to others, he would, especially for his family. He was always 3 his time and efforts to making sure his family had enough in their life.

    Later, I matured into a man and had my own children. Whenever coming home, I would ask Dad to play the mandolin, for nobody played the mandolin like him. He could 4 your soul with tunes coming out of that old mandolin. He seemed to 5 when playing, taking pride in his ability to play so well.

    Unfortunately, in 1977. Dad was 6 in an accident, leaving his third finger of his left hand wounded seriously. 7 he didn't lose enough of the finger where it would stop him picking up anything, it did affect his 8 to play the mandolin. After the accident, he was 9 to play and felt unable to play as well as before. Every time we asked him to play, he would make excuses. 10, we could persuade him and he would say "Okay. But I can't hold down on the strings and play as well as before." For the family it made no 11. When he played the old mandolin, it would carry us back to a cheerful, happier time.

    In August 1993, Dad was 12 with serious disease. He chose not to receive any chemotherapy(化疗)treatments 13 he could live out his rest life in dignity(尊严). A week before his death, we asked Dad if he would play the mandolin for his family. First he made the usual 14 again but later said "Okay.", 15 it was likely to be the last chance for us to hear him playing. He tuned up the old mandolin and played. 16, I found everyone in the family 17. We saw before us a quiet humble man with an inner 18 that lives with him in his life.

    Dad would never play the mandolin for us again, but we still 19 the most valuable gift we gained from him, 20 he had done all his life, giving.

    Realizing that our family cat, Misty, had disappeared was a1experience for me. We had recently moved into a home in a new suburb and on a far2road with cars coming and going. I had kept Misty locked up in the house for recommended two weeks.3, with everyone busy and excited for a new life, she disappeared not long after. We4for her everywhere. We tried our neighbor,5the railway track running along the back of our property and returned to our old house. We6looked for her whenever we went out, hoping to find a(n)7little cat hiding behind a tree or something.

    It was several weeks8Misty turned up. She must have tried to find her way back to our9home after all and then, when she didn't find us, decided to return.10and untidy, she let us make a big fuss over her.11was slow but eventually she looked plump and healthy once more. Yet Misty still wasn't content. A nervous cat12, she was as unsettled as she had been. But with so many other problems13on my shoulders at the time, I wasn't sure what to do about it.

    One morning we woke up to find that Misty was14again. After a quick search, my son found her body near our house, wrapped in an expensive sports jacket and left15on the side of the road. There was a16pinned to the jacket, expressing how very sorry the driver was that he didn't see her, and how he didn't have a chance to stop as she dashed out in front of him. I cried17because of the unknown driver's kindness, and also because I felt that I had let Misty down.

    We18Misty in our backyard. It helped me a lot to know that she had been19, when so many animals killed on the road aren't. The consideration of the stranger who had20to stop, wrap her up in his own clothing and write that heartfelt note in the early hours of the morning will always be remembered.