A Commitment to Life

    The snow was falling and the roads had become dangerous. The schools were dismissed early, but much to my surprise, my1wasn't canceled. So I went, feeling especially heroic. As far as I could see, I was risking my life to keep my2. Snow or no snow, I would be on time for my scheduled donation at the local 3 center.

    When I got there, I discovered I wasn't4. Four more “hero-types” were already lying back in donor chairs with lines5to their veins, and machines quietly pumping away to6their lifesaving gifts.

    Seeing my fellow donors honoring their own commitments, I realized why I was there. I lay back in my donor chair, ready to make a difference in the life of someone I would never7.

    To be honest, I'd never really thought about why I donate. I just do it. But a few months ago, during one of my8donations I learned that my blood was specifically for a cancer patient and for a newborn baby—both patients needed what I would give in order to live. I've viewed my visits to the blood center9 ever since.

    My wife Karen is a 10  too. And more importantly, she has been on the bone marrow (骨髄) list for fifteen years, ever since she signed up to provide bone marrow to a kindergartner with leukemia (白血病). That little girl died before Karen's bone marrow could help her, 11Karen was called again recently. Her test results were still on file, and it turned out she was a potential 12 for someone else. The caller asked Karen if she would still be willing to become a bone marrow donor. “Yes,” she said and then immediately began answering questions on the pages of paperwork for further testing. It was a race13time.

    I wish I could say that this 14was won. It wasn't. The caller later thanked Karen for her participation and asked a few more questions—including whether or not she'd15 on the donor list. “Of course,” Karen answered.

    Last week Karen gave blood and next week I'll make my usual donation. I'll16an afternoon from my schedule and make an appointment. I don't know whose life my donation may 17 .Most likely it will be a 18  but on any day the person needing a blood product could be you or me or maybe a loved one. It is worthwhile to 19our time to donate.

    I really do feel 20 every time I donate. And I like the feeling.

    My mother and I started our morning by rushing into the local grocery store. I waited in line at the Starbucks counter while she 1 around to pick up a few things.

    As I was 2 there I noticed an elderly woman, wearing layers（层）3 layers of old torn clothing, moving behind me in line.

    She had a few toiletries（化妆品）and seemed to want the Starbucks cashier to 4 since our queue was shorter than the grocery store queues were.

    At some point I became 5 of her moving closer behind me — it was 6 than I was comfortable with! I instinctively（本能地）7 a hand over my purse and drew it closer to me. My fear and imagination raced creating wild 8 about this homeless woman who might try to 9 from me.

    Then it was my 10 to order. As the cashier rang up my total, I discovered I was 37 cents 11. I called to my mother but she was hard of hearing. She asked me to 12 what I said but she still couldn't 13 me out.

    At that point, a long grey arm, with 14 in its sleeves, 15 over from behind me. She laid 37 cents out on the counter, saying, "Here. We all need some 16 sometimes."

    I was 17 ! Here was a woman who clearly had very little to 18 and in great need herself. I had judged her 19 and she had reached out, voluntarily, to help me!

    What an amazing gift and lesson this woman gave me about 20 others. Thank you, God!

    As a teenager, I was pretty lazy when it came to doing things for my family. I worked hard at school, and sometimes looked after my younger sister. Still, I found myself regularly resisting the urge to1out at home with even the simplest things.

    Every Wednesday afternoon, for example, my mother 2 me to another town for a piano lesson. During my two-hour lesson, she'd rush to the nearby store and buy a week's worth of3. Given the fact that my mom had driven me twelve miles there, twelve miles back,4for my lesson, and bought me a candy bar, you'd think I'd be very5 to help her bring the groceries into the house.6 I wasn't. I generally just brought in an armload and left the7 for Mom as I ran to my room, shut the door, and started studying.

    Don't get me wrong: even back in my room, I felt8about not helping my mother more. Deep inside, I wanted to change my9. But I also realized that once I did change, there'd be no going back.10I took on more responsibility, my parents would start11more of me. At age fifteen, I sensed that this one small change would 12 something much bigger: my personal change from a cared-for, spoiled (被宠坏的) child to a more13caring and giving young man.

    I'll never forget the Wednesday when I made a(n)14to jump in and see what happened. Returning home from the15I disappeared into my room, as usual. But once inside, I felt that deep and burning16.Throwing my school books on the bed, I suddenly opened my door and17back to the garage to help my mother. How happy I felt that day!

    Surely, over time, I continued to help out with more housework. The neat thing was, the more I helped out, the18I felt about myself and my place in my family. As Mom and Dad realized they could 19on me more, our trips became far less stressful, too. In short, it was a win-win situation for everyone.

    Sometimes the little things we put off doing the longest20 out to be the simplest things to complete. And feeling happy beats feeling guilty any day.

    Hello, everyone. It's my honor to recommend (推荐) Educator of the year. I'm sure everyone has a(an) 1 teacher that they will be able to 2 for years to come. There is one famous teacher that everyone wants to have in our middle school—Ms. Sullivan, whose 3you must often hear at school. Ms. Sullivan does a lot of things to make herself 4.

    First of all, she has great enthusiasm for her 5. She teaches many different classes—Language Arts Enrichment, Writing for Publication and Reader's Theater, though most teachers in middle school only teach one 6, such as Math, Social Studies, Science, etc. Ms. Sullivan is also responsible for 7 the school play. Every year she devotes her time into 8 an amazing school play. Luckily I have been a part of it and 9 it so much!

    In addition, Ms. Sullivan always shows her students that she 10 us, whether in our study or in life. Some teachers teach us the lessons in a strict way, 11 Ms. Sullivan shows us that she is always 12 like a friend. In writing classes, she makes us have a group discussion first, which I think is a good way to 13 our creative ideas. Then she lets us 14 write our stories at our own speed. She 15 everything we write and gives us a(an) 16 opinion about it. We are getting more 17 writing a composition, and no longer consider it hard work. Most importantly, she also makes each of her classes 18.

    19, I think Ms. Sullivan should be Educator of the Year. Even if she doesn't get the 20, she still deserves our respect and love!

    There was once a boy called Joseph Webb who always loved to show off how many friends he had at school. One day his 1 said to him, “Joseph, I 2 you a big bag of popcorn that you don't have as many friends as you think. I'm sure many of them are nothing more than companions.”

    Joseph 3 the bet at once. However, he wasn't sure how to 4 whether his schoolmates were real friends or not, so he asked his grandfather. The old man answered, “Wait a minute.” Then he left and 5 soon as though carrying something in his hands, but Joseph could see 6 there.

    “Take it. It's a very 7 chair because it's invisible (看不见). It's rather 8 to sit on, but if you take it to school and 9 to sit on it, you'll activate (激活) its 10 and it'll be able to tell who your real friends are.”

    Joseph, brave and determined, set off for 11 with the strange and invisible chair. At break time he asked everyone to form a(n) 12, and he put himself in the middle, with his chair. Having difficulty seeing it, Joseph tried to sit on it but he 13 the seat and fell straight onto his backside. Everyone around him had a pretty good 14.

    Wait! Let me try again, Joseph said. But again, he missed the seat, 15 more surprised looks and a few catcalls (尖叫,喝倒彩). Joseph didn't 16 and kept trying to sit on the magic chair. But he kept falling to the ground…until, suddenly he tried again but didn't 17. Looking around, Joseph saw three of his best friends holding him up. 18, many others he had thought of as friends had done nothing but make fun of him. And there, the show came to an end. Joseph understood that 19 friends were those who care for him, and not just the 20 that happened to be passing by. And someone who took joy in his misfortunes (不幸) was even less of a friend.

On that hot August day in 2023, as ash rained down and flames closed in, Jim Rhodes didn't want to be anywhere but Coulterville. "My kid called from Alabama. We first heard ·about the fire from him," Rhodes recalls. "He said, ‘Evacuate（撤离）!'I said, ‘Evacuate? To where?'"

Coulterville is a tiny town located among dry hills where local people raise cattle and other livestock. It has a main street, a park and a museum. It's got a cafe, a grocery shop and a post. And with summer temperatures routinely topping 100 degrees, it has fires—sometimes big fires.

Eventually, this big fire got a name: the Moc Fire, for the tiny town of Moccasin-where it began as a brush fire.

It burnt for 10 days, consuming almost 3,000 acres.

Rhodes woke to find his truck covered in ashand the news was broadcasting evacuation orders. Ranchers（牧场主） across the region were fighting to protect their animals, loading them into the truck or just setting them loose to find safety. Volunteers were readying fairgrounds nearby to shelter animals. Already they were filling up with dogs, cats, chickens, horses, cattle, goats, sheep and rabbits.

As residents and animals were brought out, firefighters poured in. "With them came the biggest bulldozer（挖土机）I've ever seen," says Rhodes. "And they were sent to cut the firebreak that could save the town. We knew that if it made the cut, we'd all have to get out of here."

The situation was clear. The danger was growing. But slowly Rhodes realized that he hadn't come to Coulterville just to leave when the town needed him. He stayed, joining the handful of residents who gathered around the main street where fire officials posted updates. He knew he could help somebody, somehow.

Around midmorning, a farmer he'd never met came by asking for help with animal evacuation. Rhodes's phone was still ringing, but he knew what to do. "I hung up my phone, got in the truck and headed down to his farm," he says.