When I was young I wanted to be a model,so when a national contest was staged,I convinced my parents to have a try.I was selected and told that I was talented and that for only $900 I could attend a weekend event which dozens of the most famous modeling agencies from around the world would attend.At 13,my hopes of fame and fortune clouded all judgment and I begged my parents to let me go.We have never been rich,but they saw my enthusiasm and agreed.

    I imagined being signed by some famous model companies.For months,any boredom or disappointment I faced was pushed aside because I knew I would soon have the chance to be a real model.I thought I would grace the covers of famous magazines!

    Of course,I wasn't signed,but what hurt the most was being told that if I grew to about 1.75metres I could be a success.I prayed for a growth spurt（冲刺）because I could not imagine giving up my dream.I made an appointment with a local modeling agency and the agent demanded $500 for classes,$500 for a photo shoot,and $300 for other expenses.My parents only agreed after hours and hours of my begging.

    The agency sent me out on a few auditions,but with every clay I didn't receive a call,I grew more depressed.The final straw came in July after I had decided to focus on commercial modeling.There was an open call in New York City.We spent hours driving and another few hours waiting,only to be told that I was too short.I was depressed.

    Years later,I realized that the trip to New York was good as it made me notice I didn't actually love modeling, just the idea of it.I wanted to be special and I was innocently determined to reach an impossible goal.The experience has made me stronger and that will help me in the future.

    Sandra Cisneros was born in Chicago in 1954 to a Mexican American family. As the only girl in a family of seven children, she often felt like she had "seven fathers ", because her six brothers, as well as her father, tried to control her. Feeling shy and unimportant, she hid herself into books. Despite her love of reading, she did not do well in elementary school because she was too shy to participate.

    In high school, with the encouragement of one particular teacher, Cisneros improved her grades and worked for the school literary magazine. Her father encouraged her to go to college because he thought it would be a good way for her to find a husband. Cisneros did attend college, but instead of searching for a husband, she found a teacher who helped her join the famous graduate writing program at the University of Iowa. At the University's Writers' Workshop, however, she felt lonely—a Mexican American from a poor neighborhood among students from wealthy families. The feeling of being so different helped Cisneros find her "creative voice".

    "It was not until this moment when I considered myself truly different that my writing acquired a voice. I knew I was a Mexican woman, but I didn't think it had anything to do with why I felt so much imbalanced in my life, but it had everything to do with it! That's when I decided I would write about something my classmates couldn't write about."

    Cisneros published her first work, The House on Mango Street , when she was twenty-nine. The book tells about a young Mexican American girl growing up in a Spanish-speaking area in Chicago, much like the neighborhoods in which Cisneros lived as a child. The book won an award in 1985 and has been used in classes from high school through graduate school level. Since then, Cisneros has published several books of poetry, a children's book, and a shortstory collection.

    A man was going to open a shop selling hats. He wanted a good sign to put over his shop. He wrote:

    JOHN BROWN HATTER

    Makes and Sells Hats for Ready Money

    The first friend gave him the advice that the word "hatter" wasn't needed. So John crossed out the hatter. Then he came to another friend for advice. This friend said that it was not polite to say "for ready money". So he crossed out "for ready money'.

    The sign now said:

    JOHN BROWN

    Makes and Sells Hats

    One day a friend was passing his shop. He saw this sign and said that when a man bought a hat, he didn't ask who made it. So John crossed out "makes".

    But when another friend saw "John Brown sells hats", he said "Of course you sell hats. No one thinks you give them away."

    So, at last the sign read:

    JOHN BROWN

Bayfield Shopping Coupons (赠券)

    Last night, when I went to see my grandmother, she was sitting alone at the nurse station with her word search book. My grandmother was sitting at the desk with her book but no pencil just staring at the letters as if she was trying to find the word. I came to her and said hello.

    Usually, she at least knows I am connected to her somehow but this time, she looked at me with doubt. I introduced myself and told her that I was her granddaughter. "I don't know who you are," she said." Do you want to go outside?" I asked. "okay," she said.

    We got her things and I wrapped it all in a blanket we would use as a tablecloth. I asked her if she could hold it while I pushed her wheelchair and held her cup of tea.

    She held her hands out and I placed the cloth bundle (捆) on her lap. I put the cloth on the table and she helped smooth it down-then I put the rest of the items on the cloth.

    Now she was just staring at me as if confused, as if trying to figure me out. "Do you know who I am?" I asked. She said, "I don't really know." "I am your granddaughter," I said. "I am not sure what that is. I don't know, I don't know you," she said.

    I think of my friend whose mother has not known him for years, has no recollection (记忆), and doesn't speak any more. It is a painful sight for all those living who remember. I am grateful that my grandmother is still so present. I have a sinking feeling that our days are numbered.

    For now, she is still here, still says thank you, and still loves me from a deep and secret place. Tomorrow, I will see her and she may or may not know me-and that will be okay. I still know her.