C

      Every week in China, millions of people will sit in front of their TVs watching teenagers compete for the title Character Hero, which is a Chinese-style spelling bee(拼写大赛). In this challenge, young competitors must write Chinese characters by hand. To prepare for the competition, the competitors usually spend months studying dictionaries.

        Perhaps the show’s popularity should not be a surprise. Along with gunpowder(火药) and paper, many Chinese people consider the creation of Chinese calligraphy(书法)to be one of their primary contributions to civilization（文明）. Unfortunately, all over the country, Chinese people are forgetting how to write their own language without computerized help. Software on smart phones and computers allows users to type in the basic sound of the word using the Latin alphabet（拉丁字母表）. The correct character is chosen from a list. The result? It’s possible to recognize characters without remembering how to write them.

       But there’s still hope for the paint brush. China’s Education Ministry wants children to spend more time learning how to write.

        In one Beijing primary school we visited, students practice calligraphy every day inside a specially decorated classroom with traditional Chinese paintings hanging on the walls. Soft music plays as a group of six-year-olds dip brush pens into black ink. They look up at the blackboard often to study their teacher’s examples before carefully attempting to reproduce those characters on thin rice paper. “If adults can survive without using handwriting, why bother to teach it now?” we ask the calligraphy teacher, Shen Bin. “The ability to write characters is part of Chinese tradition and culture,” she reasons. “Students must learn now so they don’t forget when they grow up.” says the teacher.

I am a writer. I spend a great deal of my time thinking about the power of language—the way it can evoke(唤起) an emotion, a visual image, a complex idea, or a simple truth．Language is the tool of my trade．And I use them all—all the Englishes I grew up with．

Born into a Chinese family that had recently arrived in California, I’ve been giving more thought to the kind of English my mother speaks．Like others, I have described it to people as “broken” English．But I feel embarrassed to say that．It has always bothered me that I can think of no way to describe it other than “broken”, as if it were damaged and needed to be fixed, as if it lacked a certain wholeness．I’ve heard other terms used, “limited English,” for example．But they seem just as bad, as if everything is limited, including people’s perceptions(认识)of the limited English speaker．

I know this for a fact, because when I was growing up, my mother’s “limited” English limited my perception of her．I was ashamed of her English．I believed that her English reflected the quality of what she had to say．That is, because she expressed them imperfectly her thoughts were imperfect．And I had plenty of evidence to support me: the fact that people in department stores, at banks, and at restaurants did not take her seriously, did not give her good service, pretended not to understand her, or even acted as if they did not hear her．

I started writing fiction in 1985. And for reasons I won’t get into today, I began to write stories using all the Englishes I grew up with: the English she used with me, which for lack of a better term might be described as “broken”, and what I imagine to be her translation of her Chinese, her internal(内在的) language, and for that I sought to preserve the essence, but neither an English nor a Chinese structure. I wanted to catch what language ability tests can never show: her intention, her feelings, the rhythms of her speech and the nature of her thoughts．

A

In the early 1900s, Carol Ryrie Brink lived with her grandmother Caddie on a tiny farm in Idaho. The farm was a great place to live. Besides wonderful tall climbing trees, it had cats and chickens and a horse, which she rode all over the countryside and through the streets of town.

Even so, Carol was sometimes lonely. She would climb to the top of her favorite tree and make up stories to cheer herself up. The favorite part of her day was when Grandmother Caddie would sit with her and tell stories about the adventures (冒险经历) she and her brothers had.

Carol loved the stories so much that when she grew up, she decided to write a book about them. Thousands of children throughout the world have read and loved Caddie Woodlawn. Carol’s book won a special award (奖项) called the Newbery Medal. Each year only one children’s book is chosen to win this award.

Carol said it was her son and daughter who inspired (激励) her to write for children. That wasn’t easy when she was busy taking care of a family. Sometimes an idea would come to her while she was washing the supper dishes. She would make a quick note and come back to write it out more fully after her children were asleep.

Carol wrote 27 books in her life, many of which are about her life in Idaho. Besides the Newbery Medal, she won many more awards. Later when another author Mary Reed wrote a book about Carol Ryrie Brink, she summed up (概括) Carol’s life by saying, “She tried to live in a way that would not harm others, to never waste a day, and to make the most of her life.”

When a first-time father saw his newborn son, he immediately noticed the baby’s ears obviously standing out from his head.

He expressed his concern to the nurse that some children might be made fun of his child, calling him names like “Dumbo”. A doctor examined the baby and reassured the new dad that his son was healthy - the ears presented only a small problem with its appearance.

But the nervous father continued to voice his concerns. He wondered if the child might suffer psychological effects from teasing, or if they should consider plastic surgery(整形手术). The nurse assured him that it was really no problem, and he should just wait to see if the boy grows into his ears. The father finally felt more optimistic about his child, but now he worried about his wife’s reaction to those large ears. She had been delivered by operation, and had not yet seen the child.

“She doesnˈt take things as easily as I do,” he said to the nurse.

By this time, the new mother was settled in the recovery room and ready to meet her new baby. The nurse went along with the dad to lend some support in case this inexperienced mother became upset about her baby’s large ears.

The baby was in a blanket with his head covered for the short trip through the cold air-conditioned corridor(走廊). The baby was placed in his mother’s arms, who eased the blanket back so that she could look at her child for the first time. She took one look at her baby’s face and looked to her husband and said with surprise, “Oh, Honey! Look! He has your ears!”

No problem with Mom. She married those ears…and she loves the man to whom they are attached.

The poet Kahlil Gibran said, “Beauty is not in the face; beauty is a light in the heart.” It’s hard to see the ears when you’re looking into the light.

In this passage adapted from a novel, a Canadian woman recalls for her childhood during the 1960s. Originally from China , the family travelled to Irvine , Ontario , Canada , where the parents opened a restaurant, the Dragon Café.

As a young girl I never really thought about my parents’ lives in Irvine , how small their world must have seemed, never extending beyond the Dragon Café. Every day my parents did the same jobs in the restaurant. I watched the same customers come for meals, for morning coffee, for afternoon soft drinks and French fries. For my parents one day was like the next. They settled into an uneasy and distant relationship with each other. Their love, their tenderness, they gave to me.

But my life was changing. I became taller and bigger, my second teeth grew in white and straight. At school I began to learn about my adopted country. I spoke English like a native, without a trace of an accent. I played, though, and dreamed in the language of our Irvine neighbors. A few years later and I would no longer remember a time when I didn't speak their words and read their books. But my father and Uncle Yat still spoke the same halting English. My mother spoke only a few words. I began to translate conversations they had with the customers, switching between English and Chinese. Whenever I stepped outside the restaurant it seemed I was entering a world unknown to my family: school, church, friends' houses, the town beyond Main Street , I found it hard to imagine a year without winter any more, a home other than Irvine .

 For my mother, though, home would always be China . In Irvine she lived among strangers, unable to speak their language. Whenever she talked about happy times, they were during her childhood in that distant land. A wistful smile would soften her face as she told me about sleeping and playing with her sister in the attic above her parents' bedroom. She once showed me a piece of jade-green silk cloth that was frayed and worn around the edge. In the center was a white lotus floating in varying shades of blue water, the embroidery(刺绣) so fine that when I held it at arm's length the petals looked real. I had been helping her store away my summer clothes in the brown leather suitcase from Hong Kong when I noticed a piece of shiny material spread it on her lap. “My mother embroidered this herself. I was going to have it made into a cushion, but then my life changed and over here there seems to be no place for lovely things. It's all I have that reminds me of her,” she said. “Maybe, Sun-Jen, one day you will do something with it.” I admired the cloth some more, then she carefully folded it and stored it back in her suitcase.

There was little left from her old life. She said it was so long ago that sometimes it felt as if it had never happened. But she described her life with such clarity and vividness that I knew all those memories lived on inside her. There was so little in this new country that gave her pleasure. The good things she found were related in some way to China : an aria from a Chinese opera, a letter from a relative back home or from Aunt Hai-Lan in Toronto , written in Chinese, a familiar-looking script that I couldn't read and that had nothing to do with my life in Canada .

There were times when I felt guilty about my own happiness in Irvine . We had come to Canada because of me, but I was the only one who had found a home.

D

  When your child is supposed to be doing homework，are they chatting with their friends on Facebook or playing games?If you want your child to do a good job with their homework and get good grades then you may want to start teaching them that this isn’t the best idea．Many studies have shown that multitasking(多任务化)doesn’t work，even though your child is probably proudly clainming they can do ten things at once!Many people believe that they can perform two or more tasks meanwhile，but Dr Edward Hallowell says this is a myth．The reality is that shifting tasks results in poor job performance．

  New devices such as smartphones，iPads，games and social networking sites make it very easy to multitask and“attention share”resulting in difficulty focusing on the task at hand，such as listening in the classroom or doing homework．“Unfortunately，the brain actually rewards kids for multitasking even though performance on every task gets worse and worse．Kids don’t know that they are doing worse because they feel better when they multitask，’’says Dr Edward Hallowell．

  Since the appearance of hand—held devices and social networking sites like Facebook， teachers have noticed a difference in acadenfic performance，critical thinking skills and how information is processed．“Multitasking prevents people from gaining a deep understanding of the information they are trying to learn，”says Dr Edward Hallowell．Kids have a difficult time sticking with a“difficult to understand’’topic and are more likely to allow themselves to be distracted(分散精力)，to tune out and switch over to Facebook or using their cell phones rather than working harder at understanding a difficult subject or problem．In the long run，the shifting of attention by multitasking affects grades．One study showed that kids that use the Internet while in class did poorly on tests resulting in lower grades．

E

Think about the different ways that people use the wind.You can use it to fly a kite or to sail a boat.Wind is one of our cleanest and richest power sources（来源），as well as one of the oldest.Evidence shows that windmills（风车）began to be used in ancient Iran back in the seventh century BC.They were first introduced to Europe during the 1100s,when armies returned from the Middle East with knowledge of using wind power.

For many centuries, people used windmills to grind（磨碎）wheat into flour or pump water from deep underground.When electricity was discovered in the late 1800s,people living in remote areas began to use them to produce electricity.This allowed them to have electric lights and radio.However,by the 1940s when electricity was available to people in almost all areas of the United States,windmills were rarely used.

During the 1 970s,people started becoming concerned about the pollution that is created when coal and gas are burned to produce electricity.People also realized that the supply of coal and gas would not last forever.Then,wind was rediscovered,though it means higher costs.Today,there is a global movement to supply more and more of our electricity through the use of wind.

Ellen and Bill County are both teachers. They met in college and became good friends because of their shared love for children. Two years after the couple got married, Ellen saw a huge change in the life of one of her students, a 9-year-old girl. Three years earlier both of the little girl’s parents had died and there was no one to take care of her. She was taken away to live in a government office. But finally she was taken in and adopted(收养) by a family and became their daughter. Ellen said that she noticed the difference in the child’s life after she was placed in permanent home and thought that maybe she and her husband could help a child in the same way.

They decided to become temporary parents and to take a child into their home on the weekends when the real parents could not take care of her or him. The pair planned to have their own children in a few years, but decided that this would be a way to give to the community in the meantime.

The couple quickly grew to love one of the children they looked after, when he became legally available, Bill became the first child they took in permanently. Six months after adopting Billy, Ellen was told by her doctor that she was unable to have children naturally. Ellen says she knew then that adoption was the way she was meant to have a family.

Since adopting Billy, now 17, Ellen and Bill have adopted five more children—Rose, 16; Albert, 11; Joshua 5 and in June 2003, they added biological brother and sister Tyler and Rylee to the County family.

The County family has been recognized for their work on adoption, and has received many awards for their efforts. Last June, the family was even interviewed on the television show, “Adoption Stories”.

Ellen says she would like to encourage other families to adopt children. She adds that the best part of being a mother of six is “Giving Josh a bath, putting a ban-aid on a cut knee or just the everyday Mom things, that makes motherhood such an honor and a privilege.”

(C)

Along with the knowledge my senior year is the most fun of the four years of high school, and it is also the most stressful . This will be an experience that will change my life forever.

Applying for colleges is clearly stressful for students. We have to decide where to go and what to study. College is where I think I’m going to learn a lot about myself. I’ll be on my own.

 An endless flow of questions has been running through my head this year. Having decided to go to college, I have to select a few colleges and universities that are a certain size, a certain distance from home, that require the SAT scores and grades I have. Now that I’ve completed a year-long application process, I have to wait. That’s probably the worst part:  waiting, wondering and hoping. I know from those that accept me the one I choose will be where I’ll spend the next four years of my life. Have I ever figured out what I will do as a career? It frightens me because I only know what I want to study. I have no specific goals in mind.

Senior year brings the fear of leaving family and friends. Keeping in touch with my family will be easy because I won’t be going far but what worries me is that I won’t keep in touch with my friends in college. They won’t be living in the same area. In fact, some are going to schools across the country, and others aren’t going to school, but have jobs around the country.

Along with the fear of college comes excitement and anticipation, knowing that I will be living on my own with people in the same situation as me. Hopefully, we will become good friends.