People say one man's trash(垃圾) is another man's treasure. That1 comes to me as I2 the house purchased in 1962 by my parents. My mother passed away in 1996. My father left the house3 my sister and me when he died a few months ago.

    After Dad was4 , we looked around the5 house where we grew up and that Dad loved so much. At first we felt so6 all the stuff left. Like so many of their generation, my parents7 everything. And like many in my generation, we faced anxious 8 about what to abandon and what to keep.

    As we started throwing out old phone books and every medical bill from every9 my parents ever saw, I also10 many hidden treasures. Mom's pocketbook was in their bedroom closet, which had everything in it, 11 her hairbrush with hair, as if she were still here. And Dad, who was a World War II veteran(退伍兵) and a world traveler,12 everything—from little spoons from all over the world to every letter he wrote to his parents while in the13. The letters he wrote during the war14 his thoughts as a young man. Later, in the basement, I15 our old kitchen table, which brought back 16 of my parents and sister and me having breakfast together .

    I'm realizing all these things17 my parents' life journey. Each time I go to18, I find something that reminded me of my childhood or teaches me something about my parents I19 knew. 20, from the shabby furniture to all the hidden treasures, means more to me than all the money in the world.

    “Daily Star, sir,” called Jason, carrying some newspapers under his arm. The little boy had been running up and down the street, but there were still twenty1left. His voice was almost gone and his heart was2. The shops would soon close, and all the people would go home. He would have to go home too, carrying the papers3money. He had hoped to sell more papers tonight to make more money to buy a4for his mother and some seeds for his bird. That was why he had bought the papers with all his money. He almost5as he thought of his failure to sell all his papers.

    “You don't know the6of selling papers. You must shout, “Hot news! Bomb bursting(炸弹爆炸)!” another newsboy Chad told Jason. “7 such news is not in the paper at all,” replied Jason. “Don't be so honest. Just run away quickly8they have time to see, and you'll9out the paper and get your money,” Chad said.

    It was a new10to Jason. He thought of his bird with no11and the cake he wanted to buy for his mother, but was12that he would not tell a lie. Though he was13a poor newsboy, he had been14some good qualities.

    The next afternoon Jason went to the office for his papers15. Several boys were crowding around Chad, who declared with a16smile that he had sold six dozen papers the day before. He added that Jason17money because he would not tell a lie. The boys18at Jason. “You wouldn't tell a lie yesterday, my boy?” A gentleman at the office came up and patted(轻拍) Jason's shoulder19, “You're just the boy I am looking for.” A week later Jason started his new20. He lost the sale of twenty papers because he would not tell a lie, but got a well-paid job because he told the truth.

I was required to read one of Bernie Siegel's books in college and was hooked on his positivity from that moment on. The stories of his unconventional1and the exceptional patients he wrote about were so2to me and had such a big3on how I saw life from then on. Who knew that so many years later I would look to Dr. Bernie and his CDs again to4my own Cancer experience ？

I'm an ambitious5, and when I started going through chemo( 化疗 )，even though I'm a very6person, I lost my drive to write. I was just too tired and not in the7One day, while waiting to go in for8, I had one of Dr. Bernie's books in hand. Another patient9what I was reading and struck up a conversation with me10he had one of his books with me as well. It11that among other things, he was an eighty-year-old writer. He was12a published author, and he was currently13on a new book.

We would see each other at various times and14friends. Sometimes he wore a duck hat, and I would tell myself, he was definitely a ( n )15of Dr. Berline. He really put a16on my face. He unfortunately17last year due to his cancer,18he left a deep impression on me and gave me the19to pick up my pen again. I20to myself, “If he can do it, then so can I. ”

    I believe different people have experienced different adolescence, I must admit I was still an angry1in my first year of college. My 2 was that my parents didn't please me at all.

    Our finances were 3so I chose to go to a (n)4college and take a bus to classes every day. One day I had a(n)5fight with my father, We both explode into shouts,6 out of the house and missed my bus to school.

    I rushed all the way to school. As I7across the campus toward my class, I suddenly I realized didn't have the 8 that was due: a thought card. My professor asked us to 9 an index card with our names and the dales every Tuesday.10 what was to be on the rest of the card, we could write a thought, a question or something else.

    Now, outside the door, ten minutes later. I took an index card.11 to write something on it, I could only think about the 12 I'd just had with my dad. I wrote “I am the son of an idiot!” then13 into the room, and handed it to our professor.

    Next day, our professor 14 the thought cards and I 15 that he wrote, “What does the 'son of an idiot' do with the nest of his life?” The professor's innocent-seeming question16me to the issue: whose problem is it?17, my thinking began to shift, I realized that I had created a life18 I was not a central figure!

    The 19 of growth wasn't easy or fast. Years later, from a 20student, I became a successful student and then a successful teacher.

    One morning, the door to the classroom opened and a new teacher, Mrs Cosby, walked in. She looked too 1 to handle us. And we sure gave her a 2 time，but she never lost her temper. And then came the last day of the first month. She 3 a bunch of papers”. We4the worst—a test. But oh no, it was something that totally 5 us.

    Mrs Cosby asked us to come to the front of the class, and gave each of us a piece of 6, on which she had written what the student had been 7 at during the last month. You see, no one had ever 8 us. No one had ever liked us. We were constantly told what good - for - nothing Students we were. And here,9 ， was someone who had been 10 us closely for a month. We made things as difficult for her as we could. And yet she could find something 11 to say about each of us.

    Mrs Cosby did this every12 from then on. Each month we got a piece of paper that emphasized our 13 She commented on my courage, how punctual I was, how good to 14 arguements if I wanted. Her positive attitude transformed our class. We did not want to 15 her feelings anymore. We actually started to 16.

    And then came the day of our graduation. Mrs Cosby hugged us and told us with tears in her eyes how 17 she was of us. Then she 18each one of us a book. All the encouraging words through the years were there, in hard covers.

    She said, “I want you each to keep this book and if ever during your life you feel unworthy, 19this and read how good you are. You can be anything you want to be 20 you believe in yourself. Promise me you'll remember that!”

    Years ago a professor gave a group of graduate students this assignment: Go to the slums (贫民窟). Take 200 boys between the ages of 12 and 16, investigate their 1 and environment and then 2 their chances for the future. The students，after 3 social statistics, talking to the boys and compiling (汇编) much data, 4 that 90 percent of the boys would spend some time in 5.

    Twenty five years later another group of graduate students were given the job of 6 the previous prediction. They went back to the 7 area. Some of the boys—now 8 —were still there, a few had died and some has moved away. But they managed to 9 180 of the original 200.They found that only four of the boys had ever been sent to prison.

    Why was it that these men, who had lived in a breeding place of 10, had such surprisingly 11 record? The researchers were 12 told. "Well, there was a 13."

    They investigated 14 and found that in 78 percent of the 15 it was the same woman. The researchers went to the teacher, now living in a home for 16 teacher. How had she had this remarkable 17 on that group of children? Could she give them any reason why these boys 18 her? "No," she said, "I really couldn't." And then, 19 over the years, she said musingly (沉思地), more to herself than to her questioners, "I 20 these boys." The researchers finally realized that it was the teacher's care that made a difference.