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    If you want to help children develop language and speech skills, UCLA researchers say, listening to what they have to say is just as important as talking to them.

    The effect of a conversation between a child and an adult is about six times as great as the effect of adult speech input(输入)alone, the researchers found. “Adults speaking to children helps language develop, but what matters much more is the interaction, ”said the study's lead author, Frederick Zimmerman, an associate professor in the School of Public Health at the University of California, Los Angeles. The researchers also found that TV viewing didn't have much of an effect—positively or negatively—as long as it wasn't displacing conversations between an adult and a child.

    The UCLA study included 275 families with children between 2 months and 48 months old. They represented a variety of incomes and education. The researchers found that, in an average day, children heard about 13, 000 spoken words from adults and participated in about 400 adult-child conversations a day.

    Assessed separately, factors positively associated with language development included each additional 100 conversations a day and each 1, 000 words increase in the number of words spoken by adults and heard by children.  When looked at alone, TV was negatively associated with language development. But, when these three factors were analyzed together, the only one that stood out was conversation between adults and children.

    “The more a child speaks and interacts with an adult, the better idea a parent has about where the child is”, Zimmerman said. “Although it's mostly done unconsciously, parents will provide feedback and correct mistakes.  They'll also tailor their speech to the child.  Parents can give the children words by talking to them about what they're doing, such as, ‘I'm putting on your pajamas now'. But give your child the opportunity to talk, hopefully without the rest of the noise in the environment, ”she added. “If parents can carve out some conversation time—maybe at bath time or at dinner time—that's a wonderful thing. ”

    Have you felt annoyed when a cell phone rings during the class? Something must be done to stop this. Now in New York City, USA, a rule is carried out in schools. Students can't even bring cell phones to school. Is it a good thing or not?

    Anxious parents say that cell phones are an important tool in holding New York City's families together.

    "I worry about it." said Elizabeth Lorris Ritter, a mother of a middle school kid. "It's necessary in our everyday life. We have a washing machine. We have running water, and we have cell phones."

    Many American parents think cell phones connect them to their children on buses, getting out from subways, walking through unknown places.

    "I have her call me when she gets out of school," said Lindsay Walt, a schoolgirl's mother. "No one in New York is going to let their child go to school without a cell phone."

    What about the cell phone owners, the students? Most of the students said cell phones were essential and the cell phone was like an extra hand or foot for them.

    "I feel so empty," said May Chom, 14. There is also no way to listen to music on the way to school without my phone. It will be a really, really boring trip."

    The third week of SEAL training means Hell Week. It is on Wednesday of Hell Week that you paddle down to the mud flats（泥滩） and spend the next 15 hours trying to survive the freezing-cold mud, the howling wind and the increasing pressure from the instructors to quit. As the sun began to set that Wednesday evening, my training class, having broken the rules, was ordered into the mud. The mud consumed each man till there was nothing visible but our heads. The instructors told us we could leave the mud if only five men would quit—just five men and we could get out of the extreme cold.

    Looking around the mud flat, it was apparent that some students were about to give up. It was still over eight hours till the sun came up--eight more hours of freezing cold. The chattering teeth and shivering moans (呻吟）of the trainees were so loud that it was hard to hear anything. And then, one voice began to echo (回荡）through the night--one voice raised in song. The song was terribly out of tune, but sung with great enthusiasm. One voice became two, and two became three, and before long everyone in the class was singing. We knew that if one man could rise above the great suffering then others could as well. The instructors threatened us with more time in the mud if we kept up the singing—but the singing went on. And somehow, the mud seemed a little warmer, the wind a little less bitter and the dawn not so far away.

    If I have learned anything in my time traveling the world it is the power of hope. The power of one person, Washington, Lincoln, King, Mandela and even a young girl from Pakistan, Malala, can change the world by giving people hope.

    So, if you want to change the world, start singing when you're up to your neck in mud.

    Twenty years ago, most experts believed that differences in how boys and girls behaved were mainly due to differences in how they were treated by their parents, teachers, and friends. It's hard to cling to that belief today. Recent research has shown that there are biological differences between boys and girls. Understanding these differences is important in raising and educating children.

    For example, girls are born with more sensitive hearing than boys, and the difference increases as kids grow up. So when a grown man speaks to a girl in what he thinks is a normal voice, she may hear it as yelling. Conversely (反过来), boys who appear to be inattentive in class may just be sitting too far away too hear the teacher.

    Likewise, girls are better in their expression of feelings. Studies reveal that negative emotions are seated in an area of the brain called the amygdala. Girls develop all early connection between this area and the cerebral cortex (大脑皮层), enabling them to talk about their feelings. In boys these links develop later. So if you ask a troubled adolescent boy to tell you what his feelings are, he often cannot say much.

    Dr. Sax, an advocate of single-sex education, points out that keeping boys and girls separate in the classroom has yielded striking educational, social, and interpersonal benefits. Therefore, parents and teachers should try to recognize, understand, and make use of the biological differences that make a girl a girl, and a boy a boy.

    Kakano means "seed" in Māori. For Jade Temepara, a Māori woman who was crowned New Zealand's Gardener of the Year in 2012, though, it means a lot more. Temepara owns Kākano, a Māori restaurant and cooking school in Christchurch, on New Zealand's South Island.

    Even a first-time tourist to New Zealand will notice the presence of the Māori culture and language everywhere. Now, so many non-Māori young people learn the language — a trend that picked up after the passage of the Māori Language Act in 1987 — that it's not unusual to hear teens and twenty somethings of European descent in Auckland asking their friends if they want to hang out and get some kai (food) later. That's a striking contrast from several generations ago, when New Zealand law banned Māori in schools, either in written or spoken form.

    While Temepara was happy to see the Māori language make a comeback, there were still parts of her native culture that were less present in New Zealand's daily life. She felt that too few Māoris of her generation were trained in their culture's traditional cooking methods and native ingredients (原料). That's when Temepara came up with the idea of launching a cooking education program that would go into Māori schools and other community gathering places to teach classes in traditional Māori cooking and food preparation.

    The idea was so successful that it eventually led to a brick-and-mortar cafe and shop in central Christchurch. There, Temepara trades in traditional kai — look for cold smoked mussels, karengo (a native seaweed), Manuka honey and a native variety of sweet potato called kumara.

    Although many of the ingredients grow wild in New Zealand, that doesn't mean just anybody can harvest them.

    "The Māori subtribe Katti Menguai are the only ones that are allowed to have some, if they come from a lineage of chiefs. It is by bloodline only. You can't even be invited. If you're not blood, that's it, you can't go. My family is of that lineage. And so, traditionally we would harvest the birds." This is both a tribal (部落的) practice and an accepted national law.

    I was in the middle of the Amazon (亚马逊) with my wife, who was there as a medical researcher. We flew on a small plane to a faraway village. We did not speak the local language, did not know the customs, and more often than not, did not entirely recognize the food. We could not have felt more foreign.

    We were raised on books and computers, highways and cell phones, but now we were living in a village without running water or electricity It was easy for us to go to sleep at the end of the day feeling a little misunderstood.

    Then one perfect Amazonian evening, with monkeys calling from beyond the village green, we played soccer. I am not good at soccer, but that evening it was wonderful. Everyone knew the rules. We all spoke the same language of passes and shots. We understood one another perfectly. As darkness came over the field and the match ended, the goal keeper, Juan, walked over to me and said in a matter-of-fact way, "In your home, do you have a moon too?" I was surprised.

    After I explained to Juan that yes, we did have a moon and yes, it was very similar to his, I felt a sort of awe (敬畏) at the possibilities that existed in his world. In Juan's world, each village could have its own moon. In Juan's world. the unknown and undiscovered was vast and marvelous. Anything was possible.

    In our society, we know that Earth has only one moon. We have looked at our planet from every angle and found all of the wildest things left to find. I can, from my computer at home, pull up satellite images of Juan's village. There are no more continents and no more moons to search for, little left to discover. At least it seems that way.

    Yet, as I thought about Juan's question, I was not sure how much more we could really rule out. I am, in part, an ant biologist, so my thoughts turned to what we know about insect life and I knew that much in the world of insects remains unknown. How much, though? How ignorant (无知的) are we? The question of what we know and do not know constantly bothered me.

    I began collecting newspaper articles about new species, new monkey, new spider…, and on and on they appear. My drawer quickly filled. I began a second drawer for more general discoveries: new cave system discovered with dozens of nameless species, four hundred species of bacteria found in the human stomach. The second drawer began to fill and as it did I wondered whether there were bigger discoveries out there, not just species, but life that depends on things thought to be useless, life even without DNA. I started a third drawer for these big discoveries. It fills more slowly, but all the same, it fills.

    In looking into the stories of biological discovery, I also began to find something else, a collection of scientists, usually brilliant occasionally half-mad, who made the discoveries. Those scientists very often see the same things that other scientists see, but they pay more attention to them, and they focus on them to the point of exhaustion (穷尽), and at the risk of the ridicule of their peers. In looking for the stories of discovery, I found the stories of these people and how their lives changed our view of the world.

    We are repeatedly willing to imagine we have found most of what is left to discover. We used to think that insects were the smallest organisms (生物), and that nothing lived deeper than six hundred meters. Yet, when something new turns up, more often than not, we do not even know its name.