I still remember an old lady, a customer on the paper route in my hometown when I was 12 years old. She taught me a lesson in 1 that I shall never forget.

    On a(n)2  afternoon, a friend and I were throwing stones onto the 3  of the old lady's house. The stone that I found was too smooth,4 it slipped from my hand as I let it go and 5  straight not for the covering on top of the house but for a small window on the house's back porch. At the sound of broken glass, we knew we were 6 . We turned and 7.

    I was too 8 about getting caught that first night to be concerned about the old lady with the broken window in the freezing weather. However, a few days later, when I was sure that I hadn't been9 ,I started to feel guilty about her  10 . She still greeted me with a smile each day11  I gave her the paper, but I was no longer able to act comfortably in her 12

    I 13 my mind that I would save my paper delivering money, and in three weeks I had the seven dollars that I calculated would pay for her window. I put the money in an envelope with a note 14  that I was sorry for breaking her window and15 that the seven dollars would cover the cost of repairing it.

    I waited until it was dark, moved 16 to the old lady's house and put the letter I didn't sign through the letter slot in her door. I felt 17  and could have the freedom of once again looking straight into the old lady's kind eyes.

    The next day, I handed the old lady her paper and was able to 18  the warm smile that I was receiving from her. She thanked me for the paper and gave me a bag of cookies she had made herself. I thanked her and proceeded(开始) to eat the cookies as I continued my 19.

    After several cookies, I felt an envelope and pulled it out of the bag. When I opened the envelope, I was 20. Inside were the seven dollars and a short note that said, "I'm proud of you.”

    How can I forget the day? On 14 July 1974 I travelled in an overcrowded bus to an unheard town called Shendurni. The next day, I was to join the faculty of a junior college there.1 about my new job, but anxious and fearful too, I was out of my2zone. Around 7 p.m. it started pouring with rain. Wondering about my new career in an unknown land, I had 3 in my seat. I woke up with a(n)4 to the sound of the conductor announcing the name of my bus stop. I looked out. It was pitch-dark. Ah, a power cut5 unusual during heavy rains. “Conductor Sahab, can I get a6 for myself here? I'm new to the place,” I heard myself ask 7“Arre bhai, get off my bus and let us go. We8 to reach the next station on time. Where will you get a place to stay in this goddamned town?” he shouted back. Amid mounting panic, I felt a9 tap on my shoulder. As I looked back, a warm smile 10me. “I'm Sawant, from the next town. The bus 11 there for the night and returns tomorrow morning. Why don't you buy a ticket for the next stop? You can spend the night at my place, and join work tomorrow.” I thanked him from my heart and accepted his 12 By the time the bus reached the final stop, it was 8:30 p.m. The kind soul led me to his house. He and his wife took great 13 to make my stay comfortable. I was 14 with warm water for a bath, followed by a hot15 and a comfortable bed. All this took place in semi-darkness. No lights yet. I was up early the next morning and my benefactor (恩人) came to 16 me off. I could not see his face clearly, as it was17 dark. I made it 18the college in time and taught there for almost 11 years. All this while I 19 him, even asking my new friends and students to help find the kind soul. But Mr Sawant remained 20 Perhaps I had got his name wrong. My only regret: I could not thank him again.

    I am an American living in France for twenty years. I used to complain about how the French were 1 for friendship. I had a(n)2 time making a living here.

    When I came I felt a need to meet people,3 I went to the cinema night for women's day. I was excited about the way to connect to French women through the 4 we would have after the film, perhaps to make friends and get more chance of 5.

Outside the cinema was a woman with long gray hair who had a slightly 6 smell and was asking for money. I 7 my wallet to give her a Euro and then something made me stop and enter into 8 with her. I said, "Look, people are seeing a film that could 9 your life. I'd rather buy you a ticket than give you money."

    So she came in,10 behind me because she said people 11 the theater didn't like her. She sat next to me in the cinema. Then I noticed some women were looking at me, with expressions of 12.

I encouraged the women to come the following night to an event. I 13 her to an agency that helped women in her 14. Then, a woman came towards me and said, "Did you buy a ticket for the woman?" When I said yes, she said, "Please come to the community center to 15 other employees there."

    This was the 16 of a deep friendship and colleague relationship. The woman I took to the cinema that night wasn't 17. Actually, she was a secretary and spoke English.

    For me, though, she was18 my angel. I made a great friend 19 reaching out to her, also got a great job, and 20 myself of many previous negative judgments about the French.

    William Weaver was one of 14 black students integrating(使融合进入) the all—white West High School. A teacher told him that he “didn't belong.” He had a test and the teacher 1 him and then just took the paper away and said, “ 2 is up.” The first report card he got was 3 F's. So he started to think maybe he didn't belong and that he was 4 .

    One evening he was at home and Edward Hill, his science teacher from the 5 school, came by to visit. Weaver told Mr Hill that the white school were trying to 6 him away. Mr Hill asked Weaver to come to his old school after 7 . So every day waiting for him would be Mr. Hill with other teachers and they 8 him. Once he got past those F's, he stopped 9 himself. But no matter what he did, he was never 10 at that school. Weaver never had a 11 with a counselor(辅导员)about going to college. But, to his 12 , he got a letter telling him he had been awarded a scholarship. Weaver 13 it and went on to 14 Howard University.

    Many years 15 , Weaver came across Mr Hill and told him, “Mr Hill, if I had not gotten that 16 , I don't know what would have happened. And I don't know 17 I got the scholarship because I never even applied for it.” Mr Hill said, “I know, because I filled in the 18 and sent it off for you.” So Mr Hill stepped 19 and changed his life, 20 at that time Weaver didn't realize how much he was being helped.

    If life were a book and you were the author, how would you like the story to go? That is the question that1my life forever.

    One day I went home from the training of snowboarding with what I thought was the flu, and less than 24 hours later, I was in a2on life support with less than twenty percent3of living. It wasn't until days later that the doctors diagnosed me with a4blood infection. Over the5of 2.5 months, I lost the hearing in my left ear and both my legs below the knees. When my parents6me out of the hospital, I7that I had been put together like a patchwork （拼接物）doll and I had to live with8legs. I was absolutely physically and emotionally broken,9streaming down.

    But I knew in order to move forward, I had to let go of the Old Amy and10the New Amy. It was at this moment that I asked myself that significant11. And that is when it12me that I didn't have to be five-foot-five anymore,13I could be as tall as I wanted. And14of all, I can make my feet the size of all the shoes. So there were15here.

    Four months later, I was back upon a16. And this February, I won two Board World Cup gold medals,17me the highest ranked snowboarder in the world.

    So, instead of looking at our18and limitations as something19or bad, we can begin looking at them as a wonderful20that can be used to help us to further than we ever know we could go.

    Each of us fails from time to time. If we are wise, we accept these failures as a 1 part of the learning process. But all too often as parents and teachers we 2 this same right to our children. When I see a child 3 from this kind of pressure, I think of Donnie.

    Donnie was my youngest third-grader. His 4 of failure kept him from classroom games that other children enjoyed. He 5 answered questions — he was afraid he might be wrong. I tried my best to build his 6. But nothing changed until midterm, when Mary Anne, a student teacher, was assigned to our classroom. She was young and pretty, and she loved children. My pupils, Donnie included, all 7 her very much.

    One morning, we were working on math problems at the chalkboard. Donnie had 8 the problems with pains-taking tidiness. Pleased with his progress, I 9 the children with Mary Anne and went for art materials. When I returned, Donnie was in 10. He'd missed the third problem.

    My student teacher looked at me in despair.  Suddenly her face 11. From the desk we shared, she got a container filled with pencils.

    "Look, Donnie," she said, kneeling beside him and gently 12 the tear-stained (弄脏的) face from his arms. "I've got something to 13 you." She removed the pencils, one at a time, and placed them on his desk.

    "See these 14, Donnie," she continued. "They belong to Mrs. Lindstrom and me. See how the erasers are 15? That's because we make mistakes too. But we erase the mistakes and try again. That's what you 16 learn to do, too."

    She kissed him and stood up. "Here," she said, "I'll leave one of these pencils on 17 desk so you'll remember that everybody makes mistakes, 18 teachers." Donnie looked up with love in his eyes and a smile.

    The 19 became Donnie's prized possession. That, together with Mary Anne's frequent encouragement, gradually 20 him that it's all right to make mistakes — as long as you erase them and try again.