There is a workman in America who earns as much as a company director. He is Max Quarterman, a thirty-year-old plasterer (泥瓦匠).

    Max lives in an upper middle-class housing estate. His 1 are mostly bank managers, business executives, airline pilots and the 2, but Max's seven-bedroom house — 3 $ 80,000 — is the largest in the area. 4 outside the house are Max's $ 7000 sports car and his wife's Morris Mini. Indoors is a 150 colour TV set and the family's 5 — a circular bath with gold-plated taps. There are also many labour－saving 6 and luxury furniture.

    How can a plasterer 7 all this? The answer, says Max, is hard work. In 8 with another plasterer, Max 9 contract plastering jobs for a firm. The owner of the firm 10 them as human machines, the best and quickest in the 11, who can do as much in two days as 12 two-man team can in two weeks.

    How do they manage it? Not by working overtime. They work a(n) 13 eight-hour day, five days a week. The secret 14 in Max's hod (桶) in which he carries the plaster to the site of the job. Max's is a superhod — it contains double the usual 15 of plaster, and Max, a strong fellow, runs when he carries it. More time is thus 16 to get on with the plastering. Besides, 17 man wastes time smoking, and they 18 their lunch break to a 19 of an hour a day. Now Max earns over $ 800 a week which is four times the average weekly pay in Britain today, and if he gets as 20 as $ 15, it's a disaster.

    Hitting heavily on the keys in frustration, I turned away from the piano, trying to fight the tears that were already welling up in my eyes. After an hour of 1 I still couldn't get the rhythm quite right on a Mozart piece that I had to 2 to my piano teacher the following day. It was frustrating to have spent such a( n)3 time on a piano song and still be unable to play the piece correctly. To me, the piece had at first seemed easy. But, no matter how4 I tried, I just couldn't seem to play it the way that it was 5 to be played.

    I decided to take a 6.For the most part, after a little bit of work, I could 7 learn the song rather quickly. However, it was always that one song, which might have appeared simple but was8 that always annoyed me. These types of songs always made me 9myself whether I could be a pianist.

    After having dinner, I decided to come back to the piano. Placing my10on the keys, I chose to play the piece slowly and carefully, paying attention to hitting the correct notes11 trying to play the piece quickly. Using this new method of practicing, I12 a great deal of patience, something that I often had13 with. Instead of thinking how hard the rhythm was, I thought about how I could 14myself, little by little. Finally, I could slowly see myself getting better.

    15 I didn't even get the rhythm right until a week later. I also16 an important lesson—sometimes, baby steps are the best way to 17a goal. I'm an impatient person who likes to think that I can get18 by leaps and bounds. But, in the case of piano, I couldn't move forward and improve19 I slowed down, believed in myself, and took it one step 20.

    As a high school coach, I did all I could to help my boys win their game. I cheered as hard for 1 as they did. A dramatic 2 however, following a game in which I was a referee(裁判), changed my 3 on victories and defeats.

    It was a league championship basketball game between New Rochelle and Yonkers High. New Rochelle was 4 by Dan O'Brien, Yonkers by Les Beck. The gym was5, and the noise made it impossible to hear. The game was well played and 6 competed. Yonkers was 7 by one point as I 8 at the clock and discovered there were but 10 seconds left to play. New Rochelle, the home team, took 9 of the ball, passed off and shot. The ball 10 around the rim(篮筐边沿) and off. The fans11. New Rochelle recovered the ball, and tapped it in for what looked like victory. The noise was 12.

    I looked at the clock and saw that the game was over. I hadn't heard the final buzzer(终场哨) because of the noise. I 13 with the other official, but he could not help me. So, I 14 the timekeeper, a young man of 17 or so. He said, “Sir, the buzzer 15 before the final tap-in was made. ” Yonkers won!

    I had to tell O'Brien the sad news. His face 16. The young timekeeper came up and said, “I'm sorry, Dad. The 17 ran out before the final basket. ”18, like the sun coming out from a cloud, O'Brien's face lit up. He said, “that's okay, Joe. You did what you had to. I'm 19 of you.” The two of them then walked off the 20 together, the coach's arm around his son's shoulder.

    The park bench was deserted as I sat down beneath an old tree. I was feeling 1  for the world was trying to drag me down. And if that weren't enough to ruin my day, a young boy out of breath 2me, all tired from play. He stood right before me and said with great 3, “Look what I found!”

    In his hand was a flower, and what a4sight, with its petals(花瓣) all worn. 5him to take his dead flower and go off to play, I forced a6smile and then turned away. But instead of leaving, he sat next to my side and placed the flower to his 7and declared with overacted(夸张的) surprise, “ It sure smells pretty and it's 8 , too. That's why I picked it; here, it's for you.”

    The flower before me was dying or dead. But I knew I9take it, or he might never leave. So I10for the flower, and replied, “Just what I need.” But11 placing the flower in my hand, he held it mid-air without reason or plan. It was then that I 12for the very first time that the boy could not 13.

    At that moment I heard my voice14; tears shone in the sun 15I thanked him for picking a very best one. “You're welcome,” he smiled, and then ran off to play, unaware of the16he'd had on my day.

    I sat there and wondered 17he managed to see a self-pitying woman beneath an old tree. Perhaps he'd been blessed with true 18from his heart. Through the eyes of a blind child, I19 could see the problem was not with the world; it was me. And for all of those times I myself had been blind, I20 to see the beauty in life and appreciate every second that's mine.

    My eight-year-old son's soccer team in Washington DC was put together several years ago. The team has won 1 one game in the last three seasons. Yet, despite the endless 2, soccer is my son's favorite activity. He plays soccer at every 3, even at break time and at the aftercare (病后护理), and although he doesn't play as well as the best players in his school, this hasn't 4 him in the least.

    This has been repeated often, but I 5 it first-hand: soccer is about friendship as much as it is about learning to control the ball and make successful 6. Watching the children, I see that winning is a distant 7 goal for them. What they enjoy is each other's presence and the fact that they're in this game 8.

    Actually, I went through a phase of giving my son suggestions such as: Why aren't you more 9 once you have the ball? He 10 my sudden torrent (滔滔不绝) of guidance. "Mom, I play midfield or defense, not forward. And 11, soccer isn't about being aggressive. It's about 12." After hearing that, I paused and 13. How strange it is that I, who never played any sport for a single day of my life, wanted my son to be a(n) 14 footballer!

    Isn't it extraordinary that kids don't necessarily 15 their attempts to have impressive results? They love the activity for itself. Becoming an adult means a gradual 16 of that spirit. To stand out or 17, people develop a spirit of competition. How often have I become 18 —professionally and personally—when things haven't gone the way I wanted? I've 19 there's much to learn from soccer-loving eight-year-olds: do your best, be passionate, enjoy yourself, and then, regardless of the 20, move on.

    As she waited at the edge of the ice for her music to start, Peggy took a quick look at her father standing nearby with a group of parents and teachers. He smiled at her. Then she 1 out at the audience, 2 to see her mother. These two, Alvert and Doris Flemint, had 3 all the way from California more than 2,000 miles away, to see their 4 compete in this sports meet in Cleveland, Ohio.

    The music 5 and Peggy moved onto the ice, letting the music 6 her along into her turns, and she began skating with much 7 in herself. The cold fear she always had in the 8 seconds before skating onto the ice was 9. She was feeling the movement of the 10 and letting it carry her. She skated easily, 11 did some jumps, a final turn and her performance was 12.

    The crowd loved it and cheered 13 she skated off the ice. "Nice job," said one of the other 14. It was the remark that 15 came after a free-skating performance. But what should the 16 say? Standing beside her father, Peggy 17 for the scoring to be finished. On all sides were other young skaters, some waiting 18 alone, others with a parent. Shortly before 10 o'clock the results were 19. The new United States Women's Figure Skating Champion was Peggy Fleming of Passdena, 20.