A few years after Mom died, Dad handed me a plastic bag. That evening, I 1 the bag to find dozens of shells, each one2 in white tissue paper（纸巾）and having Mom's handwriting.

    The shells were pretty 3, but to Mom, they were evidence of her endlessly magical life and 4 me of the seashore trip with her. She was 61 when she 5 these shells, and already showing 6 of the lung disease. We knew something was 7 and Mom needed an adventure. She suggested a dinner and a movie. But two friends and I had bigger 8.

    Mom had been to the ocean only twice, but she 9 the seashore. Her kitchen was decorated（装饰） with souvenirs from those two trips. I told Mom that we would 10 for Jersey Shore. Mom was so 11 that she screamed and Amber, her dog was 12 to jump onto the floor.

    One of my favorite 13 on the road was a discussion about movies. Mom often got the titles wrong. “Ohhhh,” she said, “what was that movie about a teacher at the boys' school?” Before anyone could 14, she shouted, “The Dead Man's Poet!” I looked back and saw a back seat full of 15. “Mom,” I said. “You mean Dead poets Society?” “That's it!” Mom yelled. 16 filled the car.

    Once we got to Stone Harbor, she began to 17 the trip, greeting strangers and spending hours gathering shells. The morning we left, I found her photographing every inch of her bedroom. “I don't ever want to 18 this,” she said.

    For a long time, Mom's shells stayed 19 in a drawer. Last month, I 20 them again while searching for something else. I put them in a visible place as a reminder from a mother who never lost her sense of wonder.

    “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 sat in my seat as my new grade six classmates found theirs. At the front of the class our new math teacher stood1 us. The bell rang.

     “Welcome to a new school year. I'm Mr. Stevens and I'm sure I'll learn all your names in no time.” He walked around the class 2 math books. When he was done, he 3 to the front of the class and looked at us. “What are you waiting for? Get started?” he said. We looked at him,4 Wasn't he going to teach us? “Is there something wrong with your 5? You're not all deaf, are you?” A6 boy at the back of the class asked what we all wanted to know. “Mr. Stevens, aren't you going to teach us?” Mr. Stevens 7 “You're smart kids. Open your books and get down to it. If you have any8or any questions, raise your hand, and I'll help you.” We opened our books. Mr. Stevens helped anyone 9had questions. He would stop to teach all the students10when we all had the same question. It was a 11 method of teaching, but it was very useful.

    It was a 12 point in my life. Mr. Stevens made me13 I was good at math and also able to reach the14of any class I attended. I studied with his help until I graduated from middle school.

    Monty Python's Flying Circus was a popular television show back then. The actors 15 the best British humor (幽默) into our Canadian lives. Mr. Stevens would often act out one of their funny scenes (场景) in front of the class. Some thought he was strange, and I guess he was,16he knew how to make a math lesson interesting.

    I've carried his 17with me all my life. Whenever I am faced with a new 18 I think of my first day in grade six math.19 sitting and staring at the challenge, I just get 20 Before I know it, the challenge has been settled.

    Everyone has something that he or she cherishes a lot.

    Dad had a green comb. He bought it when he married Mum. Every night, he would hand me his 1 and say, "Good girl, help Daddy clean it, OK?"

    I was 2 to do it. At age five, this dull task brought me such 3. I would excitedly turn the tap 4 and brush the comb carefully. Satisfied that I'd done a good job, I would happily return the comb to Dad. He would 5 affectionately at me and place the comb on his wallet.

    Two years later, Dad started his own 6, which wasn't doing so well. That was when things started to 7. Dad didn't come home as early and as much as he used to. Mum and I became 8with him for placing our family in trouble. With 9 , an uncomfortable silence grew between us.

    After my graduation, Dad's business was getting back on track. On my 28th birthday, Dad came home 10. As usual, I helped him carry his bags into his study. When I turned to leave, he said, "Hey, would you help me 11 my comb?" I looked at him a while, then 12 the comb and headed to the sink.

    It hit me then: why, as a child, 13 Dad clean his comb was such a pleasure. That routine meant Dad was home early to 14 the evening with Mum and me. It 15 a happy and loving family.

    I passed the clean comb back to Dad. He smiled at me and 16 placed his comb on his wallet. But this time, I noticed something 17. Dad had aged. He had wrinkles (皱纹) next to his eyes when he smiled, 18 his smile was still as 19 as before, the smile of a father who just wanted a good 20 for his family.

    Growing up in Kenya was amazing because I learned so much, though the poverty and lack of resources were sometimes frustrating. I knew I didn't have much, but I was 1.

    There was only one thing I wasn't happy with: 2. I wanted to go to high school and university. I had the drive, the will and the grades, 3 I didn't have the resources. Even 4 things like food, water and shelter weren't readily available. Young people in poverty have little or no 5 to high schools and universities. Where I lived, it was challenging 6 someone helped. When I left primary school, I was in the same 7 as many other poor disadvantaged youth. 8, during that year, a charitable high school for girls, Starehe Girls Centre, was 9 and I received a scholarship. Today, I am 10 record as being the first student to be enrolled in this school.

    In 2006, my school 11 The Global Give Back Circle, a not-for-profit organization for 12 disadvantaged girls to complete their education and gain 13 skills. After graduating from high school, I was given access to a nine-month IT course. 14, its give-back attitude had taught us to not only care about ourselves but other people. With this in mind, 10 of us created a website called "Hey Sister, Get Clued-Up". Through this educational website, aimed at networking 10,000 African 15 worldwide, all Sisters commit to sending information to their villages. This can be to 16 financial freedom, advance information17 to health issues and provide knowledge about social networking behavior.

    "Hey Sister  Get Clued-Up" is only 18 to those girls who can access the Internet, which highlights the huge challenge in 19 the divide between the haves and have-nots. But our plan is that these girls will 20 what they learn to other girls through "the power of their voice".

    When you are five years old, your mother is your everything. She is your1, friend, nurse; the only person you rely on2with your hopes, dreams, and wishes. But for me, this was not the case.

    My mother suffered from 3problems that would keep her in bed for days, leaving me to care for her and look after myself. This situation4me to grow up much faster. While I knew my mother was sick, I felt deep down that we could5it and everything would be okay. 6, in 1997 everything went terribly wrong, and my life changed forever.

    Adoption is a7word to a five-year-old, but when I realized that my own mother had signed me over to8, I felt it was the worst betrayal. I suffered from shock, anger, and confusion as I attempted to adjust to my new family. No longer could I trust anyone since the person I had loved more than all else had9me. Hearing people tell me that she did it in my best interest, I felt it even more10. I could not forgive her and always11 how she could reject me like an old sofa.

    However, the more I got older, the more I began to understand how12 our situation had been. We had been13 on boxes of noodles, and at one point we14 lived in our car. I was once passed from drug-addicted cousins to mentally unstable neighbors as my mother15 to try and save me from what our lives were becoming16 each day passed.

      17 recently have I begun to understand why my mother gave me to strangers.    18, she really did save me. She loved me more than anything, so she wanted me to have a chance in life, 19 she could no longer offer me. I now know my life has been a special 20only because she was selfless enough to give me up.