In choosing a friend, one should be very careful. A good friend can help you study. You can have fun together and make each other happy. Sometimes you will meet fair­weather friends. They will be with you as long as you have money or luck，but when you are down, they will run away. How do I know when I have found a good friend? I look for certain qualities of character，especially understanding, honesty and reliability(信任)．

    Above all else, I look for understanding in a friend. A good friend tries to understand how another person is feeling. He is not quick to judge. Instead, he tries to learn from others. He puts himself in the other person's place, and he tries to think of ways to be helpful. He is also a good listener.

    At the same time, however, a good friend is honest. He does not look for faults in others. He notices their good points. In short, a friend will try to understand me and accept me.

    Another quality of a friend is reliability. I can always depend on a good friend. If he tells me he will meet me somewhere at a certain time, I can be sure that he will be there. If I need a favor，he will do his best to help me. If I am in trouble, he will not run away from me.

    There is a fourth quality that makes a friend special. A special friend is someone with whom we can have fun. We should enjoy our lives, and we would enjoy our friendship. That is why I especially like friends who are fun to be with. A good friend likes the same things I like. We share experience and learn from each other. A good friend has a good sense of humor too. He likes to laugh with me. That is how we share in the joy of being friends. And I know that he is looking for the same quality in me.

    When I meet someone who is reliable, honest, and understanding，I know I've found a friend!

    Adding math talk to story time at home is a winning factor for children's math achievement, according to a new research from a university. The study from psychologists Sian Beilock and Susan Levine shows a marked increase in math achievement among children whose families used Bedtime Math, an iPad app that delivers engaging math story problems for parents and children to solve together.

    Even children who used the app with their parents as little as once a week saw gains in math achievement by the end of the school year. The app's effect was especially strong for children whose parents tend to be anxious or uncomfortable with math.

    Previous research from this group has demonstrated the importance of adults' attitudes about math for children's math success. For example, a recent study found that math-anxious parents who help their children with math homework actually weaken their children's math achievement.

    The new findings demonstrate that structured, positive interactions around math at home can cut the link between parents' uneasiness about math and children's low math achievement.

     “Many people experience high levels of anxiety when they have to solve a math problem, with a majority of adults feeling at least some worries about math,” said Beilock, professor in Psychology and author of Choke, a book about stress and performance. “These math-anxious parents are probably less likely to talk about math at home, which affects how competent their children are in math. Bedtime Math encourages a dialogue between parents and kids about math, and offers a way to engage in high-quality math interactions in a low-effort, high-impact way.”

    Study participants included 587 first-grade students and their parents. Families were given an iPad installed with a version of the Bedtime Math app, with which parents and their children read stories and answer questions involving math, including topics like counting, shapes and problem-solving. A control group received a reading app that had similar stories without the math content and questions related to reading comprehension instead. Children's math achievement was assessed at the beginning and end of the school year. Parents completed a questionnaire about their nervousness with math.

    The more times parents and children in the math group used the app, the higher children's achievement on a math assessment at the end of the school year. Indeed, children who frequently used the math app with their parents outperformed similar students in the reading group in math achievement at year's end.

    In Europe many people died during the Second World War. As a result, at the end of the war there were many orphans (孤儿) there. A man called Hermann Gmeiner wanted to help these children. His idea was simple. He wanted orphans to have a home, and he wanted them to have the care and kindness of parents. Gmeiner asked people to give him some money. With this money he built the first SOS Children's Village at Imst, in Austria. It opened in1949. This is how the SOS stand for “Save Our Souls（灵魂）.” This means, “Please help us!” An SOS Children' village gives help to orphans. Hermann Gmeiner's idea for helping orphans soon spread（传播）all over the world. By 1983 there were 170 SOS Children's Villages in the world. People in many countries give money to help the villages.

    Today the children from the first village have grown up. Now some of them work in other SOS Children's Villages. In SOS Villages orphans live in family groups. There are several houses in each village. The biggest village has 40 or 50 houses! Between seven and ten children live in a house. A woman lives with each group of children and looks after them. She gives the children a lot of love and kindness. She cooks meals for them and makes comfortable, happy home for them.

    Of course, the children don't spend all their time in the village. They go to school; they go out with their friends. But the village gives them a home—sometimes for the first time in their lives.

    When Cherry Watson travelled on a recent flight from New York to Washington and noticed an 'awful tension' in the cabin, she first thought it was caused by typical bad-tempered passengers. But as the flight neared its end, it became obvious that something was very wrong.

    A teenage boy with Down Syndrome (唐氏综合症) who was traveling with his family had become upset and would not return to his seat, regardless of the cabin crew's warnings over the loudspeaker that it was almost time to land. The pilot was forced to circle above the airport, delaying the landing and angering people on the already tense flight.

    'If it was a cartoon,' remembered Watson, 'there would have been smoke coming out of people's ears.'

    The boy's elderly parents and adult brothers and sisters tried to persuade him to get off the floor and back into his seat, but in vain. Watson, who used to be a teacher, stood up and quickly headed to the back of the plane.

    She found the boy in the passage between rows of seats, lying on his belly, and lay down on her stomach to face him. She began chatting calmly with him, asking his name, his favorite book, and his favorite characters. He told her he felt sick and she tried to comfort him.

    Minutes later, he allowed her to hold his hand, and then together they got properly back into airplane seats. Watson asked for sick bags, and held them as the boy threw up several times, including on her. As she helped him clean up, she repeatedly told him everything would be okay and that they'd get through it together.

    After the plane was finally able to land, no one was impatient to step off the flight as one might expect. Instead, calmed passengers—obviously following Watson's amazing example—allowed the boy and his family to depart first, smiling at them as they passed. His parents tearfully thanked Watson for what she had done, and a doctor sitting nearby also let her know he had even taken notes on her expert way of handling the situation.

    I became a magician by accident. When I was nine years old, I learned how to make a coin disappear. I'd read The Lord of the Rings and gone into the adult section of the library to be buried in fantasy literature but young enough to still hold out hope that you might find a book of real, actual magic in the library. The book I found taught basic techniques, and I tried to practice.

    At first the magic wasn't any good. It was just a trick—a bad trick. I spent hours each day running through the secret moves in front of the mirror. I dropped the coin over and over, a thousand times in a day, and after two weeks my mom got a carpet and placed it under the mirror to muffle (消音) the sound of the coin falling again and again.

    One day I made the coin disappear on the playground. We had been playing football and were standing in the field behind the school. A dozen people were watching. I showed the coin to everyone. Then it disappeared. The kids screamed. Everyone went crazy.

    A few years later, I staged an underwater escape in the river that flowed through the middle of the campus of the University of Iowa, where I went to school. I stood on a boat in the middle of the river wearing nothing but biking shorts. The sky was dead and gray, and the water was cold at the surface, and colder in the depths below.

    Technically, I succeeded. I jumped into the water, sank to the bottom, and escaped from the locks and the chains before swimming to the surface. But it didn't feel like a success.

    When school started on that warm August day, I threw myself into everything I did, including playing volleyball. I decided to become beautiful, or at the very least, skinny. I stopped eating completely. Soon I began losing weight, which thrilled me, and I even grew to love the tiredness and lightheadedness that came with my poor diet, for those feelings meant that I was winning.

    As the season progressed, things had become tense between my head volleyball coach, Coach Smith, and me. She felt that something was wrong with my health. She talked with me about my eating and was angry that I wouldn't listen to her when she tried to make me eat. She tried to persuade me in a determined way and so we fought constantly. Then my hunger started to affect my performance. I was so tired that practice and games were becoming a struggle. One afternoon, with hurt in her eyes, Coach Smith asked me what I had eaten and I told her nothing yet, but I was going to. She looked at me, disappointment in her eyes, knowing she couldn't make me stop, and walked away.

    A couple of weeks later I attended a formal dinner for our volleyball team. I stood there as my coach managed to say something nice about me. I realized then that I had ruined my senior year by being disrespectful, and I had probably ruined hers as well. So that evening I wrote her a letter apologizing and thanking her.

    Then one Saturday, as I was reading in the library, I felt someone gently take my arm and say softly, “Lynn Jones, how are you doing?” I looked up and saw the familiar face. “Thanks for the letter,” she said. “It meant a lot.”

    When I think of a coach, I think of someone above me, someone who gives instruction—not a friend. But Coach Smith is different, and, like any other good friend, she dealt with my problem in a determined way even when I hated her for it at that time. I didn't deserve her kindness, but she gave it anyway. I will forever be grateful for her help, and now for her friendship.