What makes a gift special? Is it the price you see on the gift receipt? Or is it the look on the recipient's face when they receive it that determines the true value? What gift is worth the most?

    This Christmas I was debating what to give my father. My dad is a hard person to buy for because he never wants anything. I pulled out my phone to read a text message from my mom saying that we were leaving for Christmas shopping for him when I came across a message on my phone that I had locked. The message was from my father. My eyes fell on a photo of a flower taken in Wyoming. and underneath a poem by William Blake. The flower, a lone dandelion standing against the bright blue sky, inspired me. My dad had been reciting those words to me since I was a kid. That may even be the reason why I love writing. I decided that those words would be my gift to my father.

    I called back. I told my mom to go without me and that I already created my gift. I sent the photo of the cream-colored flower to my computer and typed the poem on top of it. As I was arranging the details another poem came to mind. The poem was written by Edgar Allan Poe; my dad recited it as much as he did the other. I typed that out as well and searched online for a background to the words of it. The poem was focused around dreaming, and after searching I found the perfect picture. The image was painted with blues and greens and purples, twisting together to create the theme and wonder of a dream. As I watched both poems passing through the printer, the white paper coloring with words that shaped my childhood. I felt that this was a gift that my father would truly appreciate.

    Christmas soon arrived. The minute I saw the look on my dad's face as he unwrapped those swirling black letters carefully placed in a cheap frame, I knew I had given the perfect gift.

    The horse I'm riding is named Candy, which is appropriate, taking account of her love for eating. As we go our way down the mountain of Big Bend National Park, Texas, I'm sweating—half due to the hot weather, half due to an effort to stay on the horse. Candy, however, is relaxed and stops to eat cactuses (仙人掌) as she passes. She is used to the dusty trails through hills and canyons(大峡谷) and ignores my attempts to guide her away from her delicious food. Our ride becomes a battle of will, which Candy wins easily. I comfort myself by admiring the views across Big Bend's wide open spaces.

    Texas only national park, Big Bend, extends across 800,000 acres of the Chihuahuan Desert, in the deep southwest of the state right along the border with Mexico. It is named after the U-turn that the Rio Grande River makes here. It has seen a lot of fights. The Spanish, Anglo-American settles, Mexicans, and Apache and Comanche American Indians all fought to rule this place.

    Our group member, Mike, knows every corner of the park and describes it as “sort of a secret place”. Even some Texans don't know about Big Bend, he says. Other local people describe it as a forgotten national park. Compared with the almost five million travellers that descend on the Grand Canyon every year, only 30000 make it here.

    There are six of us in the riding group, all fairly inexperienced, led by tour guides, Linda and Janelle, who keep both us and the horses in line. We trek along the top of an 800-foot mountain, with wide-winged eagles flying beside us. The air is noiseless.

    The park is fantastic for hikes and has a variety of marked walking paths. The walk is a five-mile round trip. While the final stretch is rather steep, the views over giant canyons and plains are worth the effort.

    The young boy saw me, or rather, he saw the car and quickly ran up to me, eager to sell his bunches (串) of bananas and bags of peanuts. Though he appeared to be about twelve, he seemed to have already known the bitterness of life. "Banana 300 naira. Peanuts 200 naira"

    He said in a low voice. I bargained him down to 200 total for the fruit and nuts. When he agreed, I handed him a 500 naira bill He didn't have change, so I told him not to worry.

    He said thanks and smiled a row of perfect teeth.

    When, two weeks later, I saw the boy again, I was more aware of my position in a society where it's not that uncommon to see a little boy who should be in school standing on the corner selling fruit in the burning sun. My parents had raised me to be aware of the advantage we had been afforded and the responsibility it brought to us.

    I pulled over and rolled down my window. He had a bunch of bananas and a bag of peanuts ready. I waved them away. "What's up?" I asked him. "I… I don't have money to buy books for school." I reached into my pocket and handed him two fresh 500 naira bills.

    "Will this help?" I asked. He looked around nervously before taking the money. One thousand naira was a lot of money to someone whose family probably made about 5,000 naira or less each year. "Thank you, sir," he said. 'Thank you very much."

    When driving home, I wondered if my little friend actually used the money for school-books. What if he's a cheat? And then I wondered why I did it. Did I do it to make myself feel better? Was I using him? Later, I realized that I didn't know his name or the least bit about him, nor did I think to ask.

    Over the next six months, I was busy working in a news agency in northern Nigeria. Sometime after I returned, I went out for a drive. When I was about to pull over, the boy suddenly appeared by my window with a big smile ready on his face

    "Oh, gosh! Long time."

    "Are you in school now?" I asked.

    He nodded.

    "That's good," I said. A silence fell as we looked at each other, and then I realized what he wanted. "Here," I held out a 500 naira bill. "Take this." He shook his head and stepped back as if hurt. "What's wrong?" I asked. "It's a gift"

    He shook his head again and brought his hand from behind his back. His face shone with sweat (汗水). He dropped a bunch of bananas and a bag of peanuts in the front seat before he said, "I've been waiting to give these to you."

    The English language has a lot of words which can be used in many different ways and in many different expressions.

    One such example is the word matter. In fact, matter can mean just about anything. It could be one of the most useful words in the English language.

    Let's get to the heart of the matter—a matter of principle (原则).

    If someone says that you owe (欠) him $50, but you don't, a friend might say, "Well, you could pay him the $50. It's not that much money. Then you won't have to hear him say it anymore." But if you do not owe him the money, do not pay him the money. It's a matter of principle.

    There is another way to use the word matter. But be careful with your choice of words.

    If you ask someone, "What's the matter?" it shows you are worried about the other person. But saying, "What's the matter with you?" has a completely different meaning. And it usually sounds rude (粗鲁的). In fact, when you say, "What's the matter with you?" you are suggesting that the person did something wrong or stupid.

    Another expression that could sound rude is to say, "It doesn't matter to me." Here, it depends on the context, and how you say it.

    Let's say you tell someone that a friend just got a big raise at work. That person answers with, "It doesn't matter to me." Here, it means he or she does not care. And it sounds rude.

    But saying, "Oh, you pick where we eat dinner. It doesn't matter to me." does not sound rude. In this situation, "it doesn't matter" shows you are easy-going (随和的).

    No matter how you look at it and what you say, matter is a very useful word. And it's only a matter of time before you will become an expert on the use of matter.

    Although toys packaging says it's educational, it doesn't make it so. That's the finding from a new study in JAMA Pediatrics that found some toys being marketed as language promoters got in the way of learning.

    Research shows that for kids to understand, speak and eventually read or write a language, they need to hear it - lots of it. And it's never too early for parents and to caregivers to get talking. That explains the booming industry in talking electronic toys that claim to help kids learn language.

    Professor Anna Sosa, of Northern Arizona University, led the study and says she gave families three different kinds of toys to play with: books, traditional toys like humble blocks and a shape sorter, and electronic toys. Sosa says she picked those toys because they are advertised in their packaging as language-promoters for babies between the ages of 10 and 16 months.

    "We had a talking on farm-animal names and things," Sosa says of the electronic toys. "We had a baby cell phone. And we had a baby laptop. So you open the cover and start pushing buttons, and it tells you things. The parent-child couples were asked to play separately with each type of toy over the course of three days."

    "When there's something else that's doing some talking, the parents seem to be sitting on the sidelines and letting the toy talk for them and respond for them," Sosa says. "That's bad because the best way a toy can promote language in infants and toddlers is by stimulating interaction between parent and child. There's simply no evidence that a young child can learn language directly from a toy. It isn't responsive enough. It isn't social."

    As for the other toys, traditional blocks and puzzles stimulated more conversation than the electronic toys, and books outscored them all. But don't underestimate the humble block. While traditional toys fell short of books in interaction quantity, Sosa notes, they kept pace in terms of quality.

By now you've probably heard about the "you're not special" speech, when English teacher David McCullough told graduating seniors at Wellesley High School: "Do not get the idea you're anything special, because you're not." Mothers and fathers present at the ceremony — and a whole lot of other parents across the Internet — took issue with McCullough's ego-puncturing words. But lost in the uproar was something we really should be taking to heart: our young people actually have no idea whether they're particularly talented or accomplished or not. In our eagerness to elevate their self-esteem, we forgot to teach them how to realistically assess their own abilities, a crucial requirement for getting better at anything from math to music to sports. In fact, it's not just privileged high-school students: we all tend to view ourselves as above average.

Such inflated self-judgments have been found in study after study, and it's often exactly when we're least competent at a given task that we rate our performance most generously. In a 2006 study published in the journal Medical Education, for example, medical students who scored the lowest on an essay test were the most charitable in their self-evaluations, while high-scoring students judged themselves much more strictly. Poor students, the authors note, "lack insight" into their own inadequacy. Why should this be? Another study, led by Cornell University psychologist David Dunning, offers an enlightening explanation. People who are incompetent, he writes with coauthor Justin Kruger, suffer from a "dual burden": they're not good at what they do, and their very incapability prevents them from recognizing how bad they are.

In Dunning and Kruger's study, subjects scoring at the bottom of the heap on tests of logic, grammar and humor "extremely overestimated" their talents. What these individuals lacked (in addition to clear logic, proper grammar and a sense of humor) was "metacognitive skill": the capacity to monitor how well they're performing. In the absence of that capacity, the subjects arrived at an overly hopeful view of their own abilities. There's a paradox here, the authors note: "The skills that lead to competence in a particular domain are often the very same skills necessary to evaluate competence in that domain." In other words, to get better at judging how well we're doing at an activity, we have to get better at the activity itself.

There are a couple of ways out of this double bind. First, we can learn to make honest comparisons with others. Train yourself to recognize excellence, even when you yourself don't possess it, and compare what you can do against what truly excellent individuals are able to accomplish. Second, seek out feedback that is frequent, accurate and specific. Find a critic who will tell you not only how poorly you're doing, but just what it is that you're doing wrong. As Dunning and Kruger note, success indicates to us that everything went right, but failure is more ambiguous: any number of things could have gone wrong. Use this external feedback to figure out exactly where and when you screwed up.

If we adopt these strategies — and most importantly, teach them to our children — they won't need parents, or a commencement (毕业典礼) speaker, to tell them that they're special. They'll already know that they are, or have a plan to get that way.