When I was in the middle school, I got into an argument with a boy in my class. The teacher {#blank#}1{#/blank#}(decide) to teach us a very important lesson.

    She brought us up to the front of the {#blank#}2{#/blank#} ['kla:sru:m]and placed him on one side of her desk and{#blank#}3{#/blank#}on the other. In the middle of her desk was a large, round object. I could {#blank#}4{#/blank#}(hard)see that it was black. She asked the boy what color the object was. "White," he{#blank#}5{#/blank#}[' a:nsa(r)d]

    I couldn't{#blank#}6{#/blank#}[bɪ'liːv] he said the object was white, when it was clearly black! Another argument started between my classmate and me, this time about the{#blank#}7{#/blank#}of the object.

    The teacher told me to stand where the boy was standing and told him to come stand where I had been. We changed{#blank#}8{#/blank#}(place), and now she asked me what the color of the object was. I had to answer, "White."

    It was an object with two differently colored sides, and from his viewpoint (视角) it was{#blank#}9{#/blank#}. Only from my side it was black.

    I have always remembered the lesson I learned that day. Sometimes we need to look at the problem from the other {#blank#}10{#/blank#}(person) viewpoint in order to truly understand his/her view.