Have you ever had the following experience? You have been given the task of organizing a conference, which includes a must-do list about a mile long. There is the conference site, the guest list, the materials, the technology and even the food and drink to think about and plan. If you are beginning to feel the stress, slow down and take a breath. {#blank#}1{#/blank#}.

    Write down your goals. You will need to clearly define what you hope to accomplish with this conference because this will shape the rest of your decisions.  {#blank#}2{#/blank#}.

    Develop your budget.  {#blank#}3{#/blank#}. Then break that budget into different parts such as conference site, materials and speakers' fees. Stick to your budget, and make sure your assistants are keeping their monetary limits as well.

     {#blank#}4{#/blank#}. When searching for locations, keep in mind the number of participants, the convenience of the location, parking and closeness to public transportation, airports and hotels. Your goal in finding a place to hold the conference should be making it as easy as possible for participants to attend.

    Seek help from the staff of the conference site. If you have chosen a site that is known for holding conferences, you can seek help from the staff there as organizing meeting is what they do every day.  {#blank#}5{#/blank#}. They should be able to answer any questions or concern and provide advice when needed.

    Of course, full preparations also include a walk-through. Go to the site and meet with the staff the day before to be certain that everything is in place and to take care of any small details.

  A. Decide on a schedule for the meeting

  B. Choose your conference site

  C. Read the following skills to figure out how to organize a conference

  D. Knowing what you want to achieve eases the stress of moving forward

  E. Make full use of this important resource

  F. You can do nothing without knowing how much money you have to spend

  G. Seek help from your colleagues to support every aspect of the meeting

    It's 10:00 on a beautiful Sunday morning in California. To my left is some of the most beautiful coastline. I'm walking along a road ordinarily packed with cars on days like this, but today, thanks in part to my $135 entry fee, it is closed to traffic.

    There's only one problem: I should be running, not walking. Over the past year, I've spent hundreds of dollars on running gear(设备) and race entry fees. I've jogged than 1,600 miles training for this event.

    Dozens of runners pass me on either side, each of them experiencing varying degrees of sadness similar to my own. Most of them, like me, have traveled hundreds of thousands of miles to get here, spending $500, $1,000 or more to participate in this event.

    Actually I'm by no means a competitive athlete. My best finish ever was fourth place, in a 5-kftometer race with only 74 participants, many of whom were walking the entire course.

    Last year, over 500,000 runners completed a marathon in the U.S. alone. Nearly all of these runners had absolutely no chance of victory. The PR-personal record-is everyone's definition of a “good race,” whether he finishes in first or 301st.

    I should buy a new watch that not only tracks my location by GPS, but also by counting steps. This can more accurate and much more expensive. Finally, I have reached the finish line. I know that the official race photographers will be taking photos as I cross the line, so I raise my arms in “victory” I finish, in a time of 3:37:55, good for 354th place.

    A few days after the race, the race organizers email me a link to a site where I can preview my official photos 一 and download them, for a fee, of course.

    I wish I could say the feeling was unique; it's probably not Indeed probably a feeling most runners get in most marathons. Running a lot of marathons 9 in fact, may not even be good for your health.

    In America, marathoning is a rich person's sport.

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    Most teens can't wait to learn to drive. Not so with me. Driving made me nervous. I didn't get a license until I turned 24 years old. As a result, when I first married, we only had one car and car pooled to work. My husband's hours were different from mine by one hour. I worked earlier. So he dropped me off and went to the diner to drink coffee until work time.

    Then, in the afternoons, I leisurely walked the three miles to his work place where I waited in his car, reading a book.

    One day while waiting for him, I noticed the most beautiful Cadillac pull in the lot. It was powder blue and sleek looking. The kind of car you dream about. I was busily admiring the car, when I noticed the driver. Honestly, she was probably the prettiest woman I had ever seen off the movie screen.

    She pulled into the spot beside our car and it was all I could do not to stare. There was a striking resemblance to Liz Taylor. Jet black hair and alabaster skin. Our eyes made contact and she smiled at me. Her eyes were as blue as the sea, and teeth like an even row of pearls. She was wearing a light blue shirt that just matched her car. Peeking through her long, softly curled hair I could see gold hoop earrings. They had to be gold to shine like that. A couple of minutes later, a nice looking man came out of the building, entered her car, leaned over and kissed her and she drove away.

    Sitting there in my jeans, shirt and hair in a pony tail, I wanted to cry. How could some people have it all?

    Maybe I would have forgotten about her, but the following week, I saw her again. Then it became almost routine to see her about once a week. She seemed friendly and always waved, flashing a big smile. My envy lingered long after she drove away.

    Many nights when sleep evaded me, I would think about the beautiful lady. I wondered if she and her husband ate out, and where they dined, and what she was wearing. I wanted her to get out of the car and let me see her full length. Did she wear really high heeled shoes and pants, or a skirt.

    I would get my answers in a couple of weeks.

    Sitting in our usual parking lot, I was holding my book, watching her over the top of it. She was waiting and when her husband came to the car, she called to him. They spoke a few words and he opened the car door for her to step out. He took her arm and helped her out of the car. I could see very well as she moved to get out. She was wearing a skirt.

    She haltingly walked around to the passenger side very slowly, leaning on a walking cane. Sitting sideways in the car, she lifted one leg with her hands and then the other one. The beautiful lady had a prosthesis on the left leg and a brace on the right leg. I couldn't watch them drive away as the tears were blinding me. For weeks I had envied this woman and her way of life, while I had been able to walk three miles to our car!

    When my husband arrived and found me crying, he immediately asked what was wrong. Through my tears, I told him about the beautiful lady. He said he knew her husband and also knew the story. The beautiful lady and her parents were in a car that either stalled or got caught on the railroad tracks and was hit by a train. Both parents were killed and she was severely injured. She was only 12 years old. The railroad made a large settlement with her because the crossing had no signals. He explained her car was specially built for her needs as well as the home.

    I prayed for forgiveness all the way home. The lady I thought had everything I didn't. I realized how lucky I was to have my parents, the ability to walk, run or dance through life and many wonderful things money can't buy. I would not have traded places with the beautiful lady for anything.

    When you meet a person who seems to be much better off than you, don't be fooled.

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STANFORD UNIVERSITY

Five years ago, when I taught art at a school in Seattle, I used Tinkertoys as a test at the beginning of a term to find out something about my students. I put a small set of Tinkertoys in front of each student, and said: "Make something out of the Tinkertoys. You have 45 minutes today-and 45 minutes each day for the rest of the week."

    A few students hesitated to start. They waited to see what the rest of the class would do. Several others checked the instructions and made something according to one of the model plans provided. Another group built something out of their own imaginations.

    Once I had a boy who worked experimentally with Tinkertoys in his free time. His constructions filled a shelf in the art classroom and a good part of his bedroom at home. I was delighted at the presence of such a student. Here was an exceptionally creative mind at work. His presence meant that I had an unexpected teaching assistant in class whose creativity would infect other students.

Encouraging this kind of thinking has a downside. I ran the risk of losing those students who had a different style of thinking. Without fail one would declare, "But I'm just not creative."

"Do you dream at night when you're asleep?"

"Oh, sure."

"So tell me one of your most interesting dreams." The student would tell something wildly imaginative. Flying in the sky or in a time machine or growing three heads. "That's pretty creative. Who does that for you?"

"Nobody. I do it."

"Really — at night, when you're asleep?"

"Sure."

"Try doing it in the daytime, in class, okay?"

    Our summer vacation begins on July 15th and lasts nearly two months. Considering that my brain needs rest after a period of hard work, I, together with my family, went to our countryside, a very small farmhouse in which my grandparents used to live, to spend the summer. Obviously, life in the country is very different from that in the city.

    Early in the morning I took a walk along the field side. The air was fresh and pure. With a dog following, sometimes I ran a race in the meadows covered with tall grass. Sometimes I climbed up the hill to see the sun slowly yet steadily rise from the eastern horizon. The birds also sang restlessly among the bushes. In order to appreciate the quietness of the country, I gave myself entirely to nature, with a light heart and a happy mind.

    Sometimes in the afternoon I, together with my cousins, took a rod and went to the river to fish. It made the family happy when they saw me returning with a basketful of large fresh fish. When night came, I would sit at the door and tell the most wonderful and interesting stories to my cousins, who listened to the tale of wonder with open eyes and mouth.

    I wish I could enjoy such calm, pure and beautiful rural life forever.