Reggie couldn't hear a thing. He was a1boy, but he had been born deaf.  He was well-known to everyone in town, and they were all2him. Unfortunately, though, he3seemed to end up being treated differently from everyone else. Children worried they would4him, and that maybe because he wouldn't hear the ball being hit in his5. Adults acted like he was unable to6them, as though he was some kind of baby.

    His friend Michael didn't like this. He decided that things had to be7. Michael's father was the town's mayor(市长)  and Michael8to convince him that this year, in honor of Reggie, they should offer one day as a 9to deaf people. During that whole day everyone would have to wear earplugs(耳塞).

    People liked the10. The day became known as The Day of Silence, and when it arrived, everyone stuck plugs in their11, in a spirit of great fun. That morning was filled with12and laughter. But, as the hours passed, people became more and more aware of how13life was when they couldn't hear anything.

    On that day nobody was thinking of Reggie as just a14person. This meant he could be15just like any other boy, and people saw a whole new side of16. Not only that, but Reggie had a bright and sharp mind. On that day, using his usual17, Reggie was the one who could communicate best with everyone. This meant that people paid more attention to what he was saying, and they were18by his intelligence and his ability to find solutions to almost any problem.  They19that he had always been like that, and that in normal life all Reggie needed was a little more time than others to20. That was the only difference.

    I learned about life from an ant farm. When I was seven years old, my family tried to 1 an ant farm at home. First, we put clean sand in a thin glass box, and then we brought some ants from the backyard and placed them into the 2 home.

    Shortly after the new 3 were dropped into the glass structure, they got to work making tunnels. I was amazed that each one knew 4 what to do. After hours of staring, I realized that the ants had particular given jobs. With my mom's help, I kept a journal of what happened each day and 5 the ants. My favorite was the biggest, Cinderella. I drew a picture of her in my journal, which I still have.

    On day five a disaster 6 the ant farm. While I was 7 the ants, I had put my face so close to the structure that I accidentally tipped it over, 8 in all the tunnels. Although the ants 9 their earthquake, one by one they began to die. I was 10 as I watched them give up their tunnel-building to carry the bodies to a corner of the farm. My mother reported that the ants were dying of "frustration"—feeling annoyed and impatient as they couldn't control the situation. They simply could not 11 the reality that their tunnels had been destroyed. Cinderella was the last to die; she did so while carrying a dead ant on her back.

    Although much time has passed, I still think of that ant farm. Mom had hoped it would teach me about the natural world, 12it taught me much more. 13 the years, I came to realize the ants were a study in the benefits of 14. Working together, they were able to create a(n) 15 world for themselves. I also learned that they should be 16 for their hard work. Day in and day out, each labored at their task. The ant farm demonstrated that teamwork and perseverance are indeed two key 17 to success. But there was an even larger lesson that I did not 18 until recently: Disaster is a natural part of life, and must be 19. Unlike the ants, humans cannot give up when they face 20. Unlike the ants, we have to realize that if a tunnel caves in, we just have to build another.

    "Sticks and stones may break my bones, but words can never hurt me."

    A long time ago, my friend Joan believed it. At least, she 1 to. When she was young and fat, she was2 being laughed at.

    Then things changed. Joan grew up. Her friends politely say she's  "3 ", Her doctor calls her "morbidly obese (病态地肥胖)The rest of the 4 calls her fat.

    Some people say it out loud to her face. Some people 5 the word. And there are some people who say things even worse.

    Don't think she hasn't heard the words. She has. 6  they hurt her deeply. But Joan has learned how to avoid the cutting (刻薄的)7: She simply stays home.

    One day, her husband 8  her to have an eating out. The restaurant was Perfect. 9 , the servers weren't.

    Joan 10 not to hear the unkind words. But she couldn't overlook the young girl at the table across from them. When the girl 11toward their table  Joan felt uncomfortable. 12 had taught her that kids could be especially 13.

    The wide-eyed little girl stopped next to Joan. Reaching out a single finger, she14Joan's blouse.

    "You're so 15in that blouse?" The little girl smiled and walked back to her seat

    Simple praise. That was all. But it was enough to change her life and her 16.

    "Now," Joan says, "when people speak in a low voice behind my17, I can bear a young angel's 18reminding me that I'm pretty. And I'm equally sure the words everyone whispers are19.

    "That's all I hear now," Joan says: "Only praises. Words that can never20 me."

    It's been a long time since I wrote a creative essay. Recently, with lots of time and lack of inspiration, I accepted a 1 to teach creative nonfiction. 2 I couldn't get myself to write my own stories. I could require that my students tell theirs.

    "You're going to be 3 a journal in this class." I said. "And I want you to tell your stories like they matter."

    "Why do they matter?" a boy named Michael asked. "I mean, who 4 about our stories?"

    No one said a wont. Perhaps they were just tired from their 5 lives. Many worked full-time while in school full-time. Most might not have the faintest 6 that their stories did matter. They didn't even know that their stories were stories — as beautiful and hard — as their own lives.

    7, I looked at Michael. "They matter because they do." I said. "Because you're here and you can tell them. Stories allow us to make 8 of what we're 9. When you 10 your experience into a story, it becomes yours and not just something that 11 to you."

    Michael didn't look 12 , but he didn't challenge me either.

    Later, Michael wrote about how he grew up in one of the worst neighborhoods in Boston and how his high school teacher, who saw his 13, helped him fill out a college application.

    I 14 Michael to read his essay out loud. After he finished, the class went so 15 that we could hear the sound of each other's breath. I looked at Michael and saw a softening and 16 in his eyes.

    After a moment, I said, "That's 17 you tell your stories." That night, I picked up my journal from where it 18, dusty and 19. For the first time in months. I had 20 to write.

For nearly two decades, a thin, sun-burnt postal worker could frequently be seen carrying packages along a dangcrous mountain trail in the Taihang Mountains.

The 10-kilometer-long route, which is between 20 centimeters and 1 meter wide, is known as the "cat road" by locals, meaning that it is so dangerous that only cats could walk on it. Whereas, Zhao Yuefang, a postal worker in Ewu township in Huguan county, Shanxi province, had to walk the route every day to deliver mail.

Every day at the crack of dawn, he would start his journey along the "cat road". From picking up the day's post to delivering it to villagers and returning along the same route, it took Zhao four days. During rainy and snowy seasons, the mountain road, part of which hugs the cliffs, would become slippery and dangerous. One day in the winter of 2003, the "cat road" was covered in thick snow and he slipped off the trail. Fortunately, he was able to stop his sharp descent by grabbing a tree branch and slowly managed to climb to safety.

By 2012, Zhao had walked more than 300,000 km and delivered over 800,000 pieces of mail. Born and raised in the deep mountains, Zhao truly understands the significance of mail deliveries to villagers. "They depend on the mail to keep in touch with the outside world," he said. "Their sheer joy written on their face while receiving any post struck me," he added.

In 2012, a 67-km-long tourist highway was built and gone were those days when Zhao risked his life to walk on the "cat road". But Zhao was even busier than before. "The number of packages I handle daily now exceeds the number I used to deal with in the past," said Zhao, adding that villagers are turning to online shopping and ordering more and more goods by post.

Two men were sitting together in a plane. They were on a long journey. One of the men was a businessman. The other was a farmer. They sat without talking for a while, then the farmer said, "Let's do something to pass the time."

"What do you want to do?" the businessman asked. "We can ask each other riddles(谜语）." The farmer said, "You start." "Let's make the rules first," the businessman said. "That's not fair. You are a businessman with much knowledge. You know more things than I do. I am just a farmer."

"That's true." The businessman said. "What do you want we should do?" "If you don't know the answer to a riddle, you pay me $100. And if I don't know the answer, I'll pay you $50." The farmer said. The businessman thought about this, then he said, "OK. That's fair. Who will go first?"

"I will," The farmer said. "Here is my riddle. What has three legs when it walks, but only two legs when it flies?" The business man repeated the riddle, "What has three legs when it walks, but only two legs when it flies? Mm, that's a good one. I'm afraid I don't know the answer." He gave the farmer $100, then said, "Tell me the answer. What has three legs when it walks, but only two legs when it flies?" "I don't know." The farmer said and gave him $50.