I was at a loss for how to handle the fights among my kick- Many activities had been tried, but they didn't work. After reading What I Know for Sure written by Oprah Winfrey, a thought occurred to me one day.

    “Starting with Dora, I want everyone to find the chance to say 'thank you' .” I declared.

    “What?” Ashley asked. “What's going on?''

    “Just do it.”

    Naturally, the kid^ all thought I had lost my mind. I wasn't sure if they were wrong, but I pressed on.

    “Now, we're going to keep going around and everyone tells what they're thankful for.”

    Clearly doubtful and frustrated, the kids launched in, and I kept them going.

    “I'm thankful for our house.”

    “I'm thankful for my clothes.”

    “I'm thankful for my whole life and everyone in the world.”

    “What? What am I supposed to say?”

    "Keep going."

    “I'm grateful for my underwear!” Instant laughter erupted, music to my ears!

    “Great, lei it out!” I encouraged. “What else?”

And that was all we needed. The gratitude--great and small, serious and funny—came rolling out.

    “My backpack.”

    “My teachers.”

    On and on it went until every face was lit with a new kind of joy and laughter. I could sense a new feeling of peace and comfort in the air a reminder of not only our blessings, but the love we really did have for each other.

    “I'm grateful for being grateful!” Dora declared.

    “Me, too!” was the unanimous response.

    I don't remember the activities that took place the rest of the day. But it was a day when our family was transformed by two simple words: thank you. Since then, it's become a family motto.

    Should we allow modern buildings to be built next to older buildings in a historic area of a city? In order to answer this question, we must first examine whether people really want to preserve the historic feel of an area. Not all historical buildings are attractive. However, there may be other reasons—for example, economic (经济的) reasons—why they should be preserved. So, let us assume that historical buildings are both attractive and important to the majority of people. What should we do then if a new building is needed?

    In my view, new architectural styles can exist perfectly well alongside an older style. Indeed, there are many examples in my own home town of Tours where modern designs have been placed very successfully next to old buildings. As long as the building in question is pleasing and does not dominate (影响) its surroundings too much, it often improves the attractiveness of the area.

    It is true that there are examples of new buildings which have spoilt (破坏) the area they are in, but the same can be said of some old buildings too. Yet people still speak against new buildings in historic areas. I think this is simply because people are naturally conservative(保守的)and do not like change.

    Although we have to respect people's feelings as fellow users of the buildings, I believe that it is the duty of the architect and planner to move things forward. If we always reproduced what was there before, we would all still be living in caves. Thus, I would argue against copying previous architectural styles and choose something fresh and different, even though that might be the more risky choice.

    (NEW YORK) A French tourist highly praised for rescuing a two-year-old girl in Manhattan said he didn't think twice before jumping into the cold East River.

    Tuesday's Daily News said 29-year-old Duret from France is the man who left the spot(现场) quickly after the rescue last Saturday.

    He lifted the little girl out of the water after she fell off the bank at the South Street Scaport museum. He handed the girl to her father, David Anderson, who had jumped into the water after him.

    “I didn't think at all,” Duret told the Daily News. “It happened very fast. I reacted very fast.”

    Duret, an engineer on holiday, was walking with his girlfriend along the pier ( 码头 ) when he saw something falling into the water. He thought it was a doll, but realized it was a child when he approached the river. He jumped into the water at once.

    When he reached the girl, she appeared lifeless, he said. Fortunately, when she was out of the water, she opened her eyes.

    Anderson said his daughter slipped off the bank when he was adjusting his camera. An ambulance came later. Duret caught a train with his girlfriend shortly after.

    Duret said he didn't realize his tale of heroism had greatly moved New York until he was leaving the next morning. “I don't really think I'm a hero,” said Duret. “Anyone would do the same thing.”

    China is fondly remembering one of its most famous radio voices, a man whose vivid storytelling was a comfort to millions of people, from commuters stuck in traffic to restless teens struggling to sleep. Shan Tianfang, was a leading performer of the traditional Chinese art form pingshu, which translates as "storytelling".

    Pingshu dates from the Song Dynasty (AD960-1279) when performers would entertain villagers by telling stories in a particularly emotive style. It remains particularly popular in north-eastern China. Performers wear traditional dress and use very basic props - often a folded fan and a gavel. Pingshu is sometimes performed in tea houses and small theatres, but many Chinese associate the art form with radio. And in a country where sleeping problems are commonplace, pingshu is still popular as a way of helping people to wind down at bedtime.

    Shan Tianfang was born in 1934 in Yingkou, in north-eastern Liaoning province. His family introduced him to folk arts from a young age and he began learning pingshu when he was 19. He became known in Liaoning for his work on stage and in local teahouses during the 1950s and 1960s, and performed in an art troupe around the region. From 1966-1976, Shan, along with other pingshu performers like Yuan Kuocheng, was forced to stop work. During the 1980s.Shan made the transition (转型) to state-run radio, and his captivating storytelling became comfort listening for people across the country. By the 1990s, Shan had become a well-known face on state TV, even performing in the annual Spring Festival Gala show. He has died aged 84 following a long illness.

    Shan performed over 12,000 stories on TV and radio. His stories attracted people of all ages. One of his most acclaimed performances is of the Heroes in the Sui and Tang Dynasties. He gave countless performances of the “Four Classic Novels” (Romance of the Three Kingdoms, Journey to the West, Dream of the Red Chamber and Water Margin) and also helped to bring lesser-known classical Chinese literature to new audiences.

    He was able to use the medium to entrance his audience and in the process he helped to popularise classical Chinese literature. As film director Zhang Jizhong told the Global Times newspaper: “He could describe a scene and a character extremely vividly. He once had a long talk with me about adapting the heroic stories he told into films or television shows to help promote Chinese classics and traditional culture.”

    But in his later years, the growth of online and digital media exposed the challenges of keeping his art form alive. Shan turned his efforts towards writing books and opening performance schools to teach pingshu to young people. They included the Shan Tianfang Culture and Media Academy in Beijing, a Shan Tianfang teahouse and “storytelling base” in Anshan in Liaoning province. Meanwhile, modern productions of pingshu reference (引用，参照) contemporary  (现代的) culture to draw in new performers and audiences. Performers like Guo Heming have emerged, putting a modern spin on pingshu by adapting popular works, including the Harry Potter stories.

    Although he wasn't particularly active on social media, he amassed more than one million fans on the Sina Weibo platform.

A memorial was held for him on 15 September but millions of Chinese will miss his voice.

    Everybody, at some point in their lives, has experienced failure. It could be something as simple as not getting the job you wanted, or getting fewer marks even after hard work. But what makes you is not your failure, but how you get back up after being hit.

    Once, a young school boy was caught in a fire accident in his school and was assumed that he would not live. His mother was told that he was sure to die, for the terrible fire had destroyed the lower half of his body. Even if he were to survive, he would be lame throughout his life.

    But the brave boy did not want to die nor did he want to be lame.  Much to the amazement of the doctor, he did survive. But unfortunately from his waist down, he had no motor ability. His thin legs just hung there, lifeless. Eventually he left the hospital. But his determination to walk was unshakable. At home, when he was not in bed, he had to stay in a wheelchair. One day, he threw himself from the chair and pulled himself across the grass, dragging his legs behind him. He reached the fence, raised himself up and then began dragging himself along the fence, firmly determined. He did this every day, with faith in himself that he would be able to walk unaided. With his iron determination, he did develop the ability to stand up, then to walk on and off, then to walk by himself and then to run.

    He began to walk to school, and then run to school, to run for the joy of running. Later in college he was on the track team.

    In February 1934, in New York City's Madison Square Garden, this young man who was not expected to survive, who would surely never walk, who could never hope to run-this determined young man, Dr. Glenn Cunningham, ran the world's fastest mile.

    A good example of the power of positive thinking and faith in one's self, Glenn Cunningham continues to be an inspiration for many, and his story, a brilliant evidence to how one can bounce back even when all difficulties are piled against one, to the degree that death seemed the preferable option.

    "Mom, what is that?" asked my son. "The Bride of Chucky?"

    The old doll I was holding was pretty scary. Her glass eyes were especially horrible, closing when she stood upright and flying open when she lay flat. Once she had been loved, but she had been stored in an attic (阁楼) for decades, where the extremes of heat and cold can be hard on a girl's looks. Throw her in the waste bin? Maybe. But first, let's check eBay.

    I clicked, supplied the required information about condition, including defects (i.e., "Only a miracle could save this doll"), and uploaded its photos. I sold it for $5.

    The buyer was happy: "As described!" he wrote on my feedback page. "Super seller!" The doll found a home and, I hope, a new life. Maybe she was used to repair other dolls. Perhaps those strange eyes got fixed and once again can inspire a child's love. It's a win-win, if you ask me.

    I also sold lots of other stuff. None of them brought in a lot of money, though I have been surprised at the occasional bidding war, like, for example, the one over an old swimsuit that would have made Brigitte Bardot look bad. And some customers, let's face it, are strange. Recently I had a hard time convincing an Australian would-be buyer of an Irish souvenir bell that I don't shop internationally; it's just too much trouble. He could have flown to Ireland and bought his own bell for the price he was willing to pay. Another time, a buyer complained that the electric wire on an old radio was dirty. Really? Dirty? The wire was black. But I aim to please, so I offered a refund.

    So why bother with the dealing and small profits? Because I don't like abandoning the past. All these treasures once had stories. They meant something. But the people who gave them that meaning are gone, and I simply cannot rescue everything. I can't even sew. So I find it satisfying that a new owner, discovered via eBay, will continue the story in his or her own way.