Recently, my family and I visited Kaikoura, a coastal town in New Zealand. The first evening it seemed a1 place, but the next day I remembered what I'd 2about it in a magazine. It was often 3 to see dolphins (海豚) and whales there!

    My family and I 4  on a grey, windy morning on a small boat. 5, the sky turned blue ten minutes later. Soon we  6 the place where we were supposed to go swimming. To my 7, this was more than 40 km from land. I was quite 8by this time, and wondered why we came all the way out there, when 9someone shouted “Dolphins!”

    All I could 10were fins (鱼鳍) everywhere — there were about one hundred dolphins, all 11towards our boat! Many of them were jumping around in the water12they were asking us to come and play. I 13my snorkel (潜水通气管) and jumped into the sea. Then I tried to make 14in the water to attract them. What made me 15was that they heard me and came to swim around me. Amazingly, a dolphin kept following me, but then changed his 16and swam in another direction. It really made me realize how 17these animals are.

    About an hour later, it was time for us to get back onto the 18. I really enjoyed myself, but I was a little cold and 19 to leave the water. I noticed that everyone on board was smiling and I realized what a very20moment we'd had.

    For years, I followed the materialistic standards around me. I thought that without the purses, shoes, and all the other “1” things, I would not be as pretty, smart, or important as others of my age.

    As a freshman (新生) of my high school, I thought top social status could be gained by doing everything to 2. So I became a(n)3 and bought fake (伪造的) designer purses. I felt popular and important, and I4 it.

    But, my parents couldn't understand my strong 5to be someone just to 6 others. They tried endlessly to convince me that I was hurting myself,7 I wouldn't listen. I felt 8 with this way of my life until one day I looked at myself in the mirror and saw someone with makeup and the product-filled hair wasn't me. That person was 9.

    So I quit cheerleading and 10 swimming again, something I had loved for eight years before high school. I also attended my school's top vocal (声乐) performance group, and 11 myself whole-heartedly to community service.

    I wrote articles in my school newspaper that questioned the materialistic 12 of many students at my school. I started 13 my limits academically, which I14 considered less important than improving my social status.

    I found a new group of friends who15 me, unlike my old friends. I found I no longer needed to impress others materialistically. Starting over was 16. My classmates looked at me as if they didn't know me.

    I am to 17 the materialistic culture. I am confident, talented, and optimistic. I know who I am. I'm motivated to explore even more of my 18 as a student and a member of my community.

    I took one of the worst 19 in my life but I turned it around and 20 something beautiful——a life that fits me, with meaning and happiness.

    As my husband, Doug, stood on the busy New York city street to stop a taxi, I tried to protect my daughter from the cold December wind and rain. I put my head down to kiss her tiny face.

    1 and wet, my husband gave up his attempt to nag down a taxi. I knew the 2.Just after her first birthday, we were told our daughter Katie has a 3brain illness. Since that moment, Doung and I felt like runners in a marathon race where the finish line kept4 . We knew Katie was runn.ng out of 5. It had taken months before we finally had a name for the 6 ， but we were told only a few specialists in the world knew how to7 it. Now, as we finally found a brilliant doctor to 8 our girl, we were in a strange9 in the cold rain.

    Just at the moment, a middle-aged woman pulled over and said, “Pardon me? May I offer you a(n)10?”

    Before we could say anything, she continued, “It's really no11for me. Just get in.”

    It was then that I noticed her thick Irish accent, which 12me up like hot soup. We simply said, “Thanks! Roosevelt Hospital, please,” as we got in her car for the ride.

    “Are you going13the baby?” she asked us.

    I nodded my head, holding back my 14.

    At the hospital, we 15her a dozen times for the ride. As the woman hugged me, I16her face was wet with tears. She promised to17for us before she left.

    After three more visits to New York and two more 18surgeries (手术)，Katie is cured. But the 19 of the Irish Angel still rang as a constant reminder of a tiny ray of light that appeared in our20 days.

    Whenever my kids have a party at school, I am the mom who always signs up to bring the juice boxes. It's not because I'm 1 or that I don't care if my kids have a good party. I am just not good at making homemade bread into holiday-themed shapes like other mothers. 2, I'm happy to try, even though it'll 3 me a long time to do it.

    People say that housewives should have the 4 to make delicious meals, keep their houses clean, and 5 every minute of their child's life. Their words used to 6 me a lot. I felt that I should also be able to do those things as a housewife. So 7 I couldn't make the turkey-shaped cookies, I 8 feeling like a failure as a mom.

    After many 9 attempts at baking, and many afternoons spent crying over my inabilities as a mother, I finally accepted the 10 that my lot (命运) in life is to be the juice box mom. I worked hard to be the 11 one in the elementary school. And after one of my daughter's class parties, it 12. Her teacher stopped me as I was leaving and said, “Thank you so much for always bringing 13 drinks. Sometimes parents forget that other children will also 14 class parties, and they end up being left out because we don't have enough 15 for everyone.”

    I just accepted her appreciation（感激）, rather than telling her that I brought extra drinks because I could 16 remember how many kids were in the class. But her 17 taught me an important lesson: I'm not a failure as a mom.

    Not everyone is cut out to be a(n) 18 mom. I believe it's okay to be the juice box mom. I may not bake cookies and decorate them beautifully, but I 19 something to drink. And I think that's just as 20.

    Did The Earth Move For You?

    Eleven-year-old Angela suffered from a disease involving her nervous system. She was unable to1and her movement was restricted in other ways as well. The doctors did not hold out much2of her ever recovering from this illness. They 3she'd spend the rest of her life in a wheelchair. They said that4, if any, were able to come back to normal after catching this disease. But the little girl was brave and confident. There, lying in her hospital bed, she would5to anyone who'd listen that she was definitely going to be walking again someday.

    She was then sent to a specialized rehabilitation hospital in the San Francisco Bay area. Whatever therapies(治疗方法) could be6to her case were used. Things didn't work as the therapists expected. Still they were charmed by her7spirit. They taught her about8— about seeing herself walking. If it would do nothing else, it would9give her hope and something 10to do in the long waking hours in her bed. Angela would work as hard as possible in physical therapy, in whirlpools and in exercise sessions. And she worked just as hard lying there11doing her imaging, visualizing herself moving, moving, moving!

    One day, as she was twisting with all her12to imagine her legs moving again, it seemed as though a13thing happened: The bed moved! It began to move around the room! She14out, “Look what I'm doing! Look! Look! I 15it! I moved!”

    Of course, at this very moment everyone else in the hospital was screaming, too, and running for 16. People were screaming, equipment was17and glass was breaking. You see, it was the recent San Francisco earthquake. But don't tell that to Angela. She's18that she did it. And now only a few years later, she's back in school.

    19her own two legs. No crutches(拐杖), no wheelchair. You see, anyone who can shake the earth between San Francisco and Oakland can conquer a little disease. You never know what's around the corner until you take a20step.

    I met my art teacher Ms. J in the seventh grade and she changed me.

In her first class, she encouraged us to1what art meant. During discussion on facial structure and paintings, she2the “golden ratio (黄金比例)”, a beauty standard and explained how Davinci applied it to his works to ensure they were visually3.

    I couldn't help but think if my4had been measured against the "golden ratio," my score would have been5

    I was born with a facial disfigurement( 缺陷)and my face looked6. After regular appointments with7, my face was changed many times with little improvement. I8seeing myself in the mirror.

    People's strange tones, curious expressions kept telling me that I was9. Worse still, my photo appeared in a magazine with big letter "Face similar to work of Picasso" right below. I felt10

    I told Ms. J about my11and how my face was compared to Picasso's painting.

    "Art isn't about what you see but about what you12." She comforted me and told me that our13appearances were our signatures that we left in the world, which set us14and made us beautiful. And then she showed me a picture of an old man with long white hair. "You see, Davinci doesn't look too pretty, but his works15beauty on us." she added.

    I was struck by her words, and I wondered16I had never thought this way.

     "Being compared to Picasso may seem like a shame, but it's a(n)17.You are unique and you are a masterpiece."

    Today, when I look18the mirror, I will remember the words of my teacher, "beauty is subjective" and I get to know my appearance is my19.

    It takes me years to20that beauty is more than a cold calculation.