YOUTH

Youth is not a time of life; it is a state of mind; it is not a matter ofrosy cheeks, red lips and supple knees; it is a matter of the will, aquality of the imagination, a vigor of the emotions; it is the freshness ofthe deep springs of life.
Youth means a tempera-mental predominance of courage over timidity, of theappetite for adventure over the love of ease. This often exists in a man of60 more than a boy of 20.　Nobody grows old merely by a number of years.　Wegrow old by deserting our ideals.
Years may wrinkle the skin, but to give up enthusiasm wrinkles the soul.WYouth is not a time of life; it is a state of mind; it is not a matter ofrosy cheeks, red lips and supple knees; it is a matter of the will, aquality of the imagination, a vigor of the emotions; it is the freshness ofthe deep springs of life.
Youth means a tempera-mental predominance of courage over timidity, of theappetite for adventure over the love of ease. This often exists in a man of60 more than a boy of 20.　Nobody grows old merely by a number of years.　Wegrow old by deserting our ideals.
Years may wrinkle the skin, but to give up enthusiasm wrinkles the soul.Youth is not a time of life; it is a state of mind; it is not a matter ofrosy cheeks, red lips and supple knees; it is a matter of the will, aquality of the imagination, a vigor of the emotions; it is the freshness ofthe deep springs of life.
Youth means a tempera-mental predominance of courage over timidity, of theappetite for adventure over the love of ease. This often exists in a man of60 more than a boy of 20.　Nobody grows old merely by a number of years.　Wegrow old by deserting our ideals.
Years may wrinkle the skin, but to give up enthusiasm wrinkles the soul.Worry, fear, self-distrust bows the heart and turns the spring back to dust.
Whether 60 or 16, there is in every human being’s heart the lure of wonder,the unfailing childlike appetite of what’s next and the joy of the game ofliving.　In the center of your heart and my heart there is a wirelessstation: so long as it receives messages of beauty, hope, cheer, courage andpower from men and from the Infinite, so long are you young.
When the aerials are down, and your spirit is covered with snows of cynicismand the ice of pessimism, then you are grown old, even at 20, but as long asyour aerials are up, to catch waves of optimism, there is hope you may dieyoung at 80.Worry, fear, self-distrust bows the heart and turns the spring back to dust.
Whether 60 or 16, there is in every human being’s heart the lure of wonder,the unfailing childlike appetite of what’s next and the joy of the game ofliving.　In the center of your heart and my heart there is a wirelessstation: so long as it receives messages of beauty, hope, cheer, courage andpower from men and from the Infinite, so long are you young.
When the aerials are down, and your spirit is covered with snows of cynicismand the ice of pessimism, then you are grown old, even at 20, but as long asyour aerials are up, to catch waves of optimism, there is hope you may dieyoung at 80.orry, fear, self-distrust bows the heart and turns the spring back to dust.
Whether 60 or 16, there is in every human being’s heart the lure of wonder,the unfailing childlike appetite of what’s next and the joy of the game ofliving.　In the center of your heart and my heart there is a wirelessstation: so long as it receives messages of beauty, hope, cheer, courage andpower from men and from the Infinite, so long are you young.
When the aerials are down, and your spirit is covered with snows of cynicismand the ice of pessimism, then you are grown old, even at 20, but as long asyour aerials are up, to catch waves of optimism, there is hope you may dieyoung at 80.

Believe in myself

While my friends attended their universities in great delight, I restarted my senior high school life. My spirit sank at the prospect of starting all over again. Surrounded by strange classmates, I felt like I was in a maze and was sorry for myself. There were some complex feelings in my mind. I was frightened, nervous and lonely. 　 To make matters worse, I recalled my failure again and again, which put more pressure on me than I could bear. As a result, I was always feeling down during class.
　My teacher found me spiritless. One day he asked me to come to his office and told me about his attitude towards life: we might suffer from making mistakes, but it's important to model ourselves into the people we will become. All the growing pains and the embarrassing things we may experience are part of the process. We never stop growing up, so learn from it and keep up your spirit! At last, he added if you are optimistic, things you want may happen to you!
　Warm feelings rush through my soul. I suddenly found the sun shining again when I stepped out of his office. 　
　With the teacher's help, I eventually got over my depression. From then on, I no longer bowed my head but began smiling to my classmates. I would put up my hand confidently in class and kid with my new friends in my spare time. Meanwhile, I was gradually embraced by my classmates.
　Now faced with fierce competition, we all study strenuously, and every second counts. However, there is an atmosphere of mutual trust and respect between us. I love my class; I love my classmates!
　To be frank, I still have a thirst for my dream university, but I'm not afraid of the failure because I can profit by it. 　
　With parents and teachers' great expectation, I'm quite certain of my future and I'm sure I can fly high.

Feed Your Mind

　　Since the pre-historic times, man has had an urge to satisfy his needs. Be it hunger, shelter or search for a mate, he has always manipulated the circumstances to the best of his advantages. Probably this might be the reason why we human are the most developed of all living species on the earth, and probably also in the universe. As we climbed the steps of evolution with giant leaps, we somehow left behind common sense and logical thinking — we forgot that we have stopped thinking ahead of times.
　　If you are hungry, what do you do? Grab a piece of your favorite meal and stay quiet after that? Just like your stomach, even your mind is hungry. But it never lets you know, because you keep it busy thinking about your dream lover, favorite star and many such absurd things. So it silently began to heed to your needs and never let itself grow. When mind looses its freedom to grow, creativity gets a full stop. This might be the reason why we all sometimes think "What happens next?", "Why can't I think?", "Why am I always given the difficult problems?" Well this is the aftermath of our own karma of using our brain for thinking of not-so-worthy things.
　　Hunger of the mind can be actually satiated through extensive reading. Now why reading and not watching TV? Because reading has been the most educative tool used by us right from the childhood. Just like that to develop other aspects of our life, we have to take help of reading. You have innumerable number of books in this world which will answer all your “How to?” questions. Once you read a book, you just don't run your eyes through the lines, but even your mind decodes it and explains it to you. The interesting part of the book is stored in your mind as a seed. Now this seed is unknowingly used by you in your future to develop new ideas. The same seed if used many times, can help you link and relate a lot of things, of which you would have never thought of in your wildest dreams! This is nothing but creativity. More the number of books you read, your mind will open up like never before. Also this improves your oratory skills to a large extent and also makes a significant contribution to your vocabulary. Within no time you start speaking English or any language fluently with your friends or other people and you never seem to run out of the right words at the right time.
　　Actually, I had a problem in speaking English fluently, but as I read, I could improve significantly. I am still on the path of improvement to quench my thirst for satisfaction. So guys do join me and give food for your thoughts by reading, reading and more reading. Now what are you waiting for? Go, grab a book, and let me know!

In life two-pole

　　It has been so bitterly cold here in Pennsylvania.
　　I can’t remember a winter being as cold as this, but I’m sure there were colder days.
　　Even though the daylight hours are growing longer minute by minute, it’s easy to find an excuse not to go out unless you absolutely must, but bhen again I often have to push myself to accomplish things.
　　People I speak to have been in all kinds of nasty moods. They say they’re “under the weather,” not feeling good about this time of year.
　　As I stood outside with my two dogs yesterday, it was so cold that my nose and face felt crisp and my cars were stinging.
　　Of course, that doesn’t matter to Ricky and Lucy. They have a routine they must go through to find just the fight spot no matter how cold or hot it is.
　　So I wait.
　　But this time it was different. As cold as it was, I suddenly was invigorated thinking about how wonderful this extreme cold really was.
　　Then the sun broke through the clouds and memories of summer’s scorching hot days flashed through my mind. I could remember standing in the heat of the afternoon, sweat pouring down my brow and the hot, burning sun againse my face. I reminded myself then and there that in the cold of the winter I would wish I had this heat.
　　I was right.
　　Two extremes in my life that most of the time I find uncomfortable, I normally dread them and gripe about it all the way through.
　　But today I was grateful for them. Without the extremes in my life, I would never appreciate the days when things were just right. Without the extremes life would be boring.
　　It’s being pushed to one of the extremes that makes us appreciate the middle more. Health challenges reminds us that we need to pay more attention to how we live. Financial extremes reminds us that when things are in excess it’s time to tuck away for when the times are lean.
　　So bring on the cold so I appreciate the heat more.
　　Make me sweat on a hot summer’s day so I wish I had a handful of snow to rub my face in.
　　I’ve come to the conclusion that all too often I find a reason not to be happy with where I am at that moment.
　　Whether it’s hot or cold, good health or bad, in the money or out of it, I always wanted it to be different.
　　But no more. I want to start finding a reason to be happy right where I am. Even if it’s simply the fact that I’m alive.
　　I’m tired of being “Under the Weather!”

Opens gate of the happiness seven necessary qualities for you

No, happiness isn't a lottery ticket away.
I am fascinated by academic studies of human happiness, because they bring scientific rigor to issues we all grapple with. We think more money will make us happier and yet studies suggest Americans are no more satisfied than they were three decades ago, when the standard of living was much lower.
So if winning the lottery won't do the trick, what will? Here are seven key lessons from happiness research. It is indeed possible to boost our happiness -- but it'll take more than a fat wallet.
1 What matters is what we focus on.
Those with higher incomes aren't necessarily happier. But when asked how satisfied they are with their lives, high earners are more likely to say they're happy.
Why? The question makes them ponder their position in society -- and they realize they're pretty lucky. The implication: If you have a hefty portfolio or hefty paycheck, you can probably bolster your happiness by regularly contemplating your good fortune.
Meanwhile, if you are less well off, avoid situations where you feel deprived -- and seek out those where comparisons are in your favor. Rather than buying the cheapest house in a wealthy neighborhood, settle for a town where people have similar salaries. When you think about your net worth, forget your well-heeled sister and focus on your cash-strapped brother.
2 Don't go it alone.
Studies have found that married folks are happier than those who are single.
'Marriage provides two sources of happiness,' says Andrew Oswald, an economics professor at England's Warwick University. 'One is sex and the other is friendship. Marriage has one of the largest impacts on human well-being.'
Similarly, spending time with friends can boost happiness. Studies indicate that commuting is one of life's least enjoyable activities, that looking after the kids is more of a struggle than we like to admit and that eating is one of life's great pleasures.
But all of these things can be enhanced by adding friends. Commuting with others will make the trip less grim, playing with the kids will be more fun if there's another adult along and eating with others is better than eating alone.
3 We like to feel secure.
Midlife is a period of relative unhappiness. This dissatisfaction may stem from the lack of control felt by those in their 40s, as they juggle raising children and the demands of work.
By contrast, employees in senior positions, retirees and those with good job security often report being happy. One explanation: They have greater control over their daily lives.
'There's a profound link between insecurities of all kinds and human well-being,' Prof. Oswald notes. 'Supervisors are happier than those who are supervised. Job loss is an enormous negative and job security is an enormous plus to mental health.'
4 We enjoy making progress.
Studies suggest we prefer leisure to work. But that doesn't mean work is always a source of unhappiness. We like the feeling of performing a job competently and being in the flow of work.
'There are definitely better and worse jobs,' says David Schkade, a management professor at the University of California at San Diego. 'If you're in the flow more often, that's going to be a better job.'
But Prof. Schkade says work's real pleasure may come from the sense of accomplishment we feel afterward. 'We know progress makes people feel good,' he says. 'You should design a life where you have that feeling of progress.'
Work also has the benefit of making leisure seem sweeter, Prof. Schkade adds. This may be the reason seniors who set out solely to relax and have fun are often disappointed by their retirement.
5 We adapt to improvements.
In pursuit of progress, we strive for faster cars, fatter paychecks and winning lottery tickets.
Yet, when we get what we hanker after, we quickly become dissatisfied and soon we're lusting after something else. Academics refer to this as the 'hedonic treadmill' or 'hedonic adaptation.'
We may, however, be able to slow the process of adaptation. If we go out and celebrate our recent promotion, we will hang onto the good feelings for a little longer. If we bought a house last year, we may recover some of the initial thrill by pausing to admire our new home.
We should also think about how we spend our money. It seems we get more lasting happiness from experiences than goods.
If we buy a new car, it will eventually go from being our pride and joy to being a scruffy set of wheels with an irritating rattle. But if we spend our money on meals with friends or vacations with family, we will be left with fond memories that may grow even fonder with time.
6 We also adapt to setbacks.
While adaptation can work against us when good things happen, it saves us from misery when bad times strike. If a close friend dies, we imagine we will never laugh again. But adaptation rides to the rescue.
Oddly enough, it seems we adjust more quickly if a setback is large or irreversible. If we become disabled, we will likely adapt with surprising speed. If our spouse is a slob, we may never get used to it.
One reason: We figure there's still a chance our spouse will change his or her slovenly ways.
7 We enjoy behaving virtuously.
If we volunteer, give to charity or behave politely, we usually feel pretty good.
Pure altruism? It may, instead, be our ancient instincts kicking in. Good behavior paid big dividends in ancient societies, notes Boston money manager Terry Burnham, co-author of 'Mean Genes.'
'Virtue is built into us because virtue was rewarded,' he argues. 'In small-scale societies, where you are well known, there are rewards for being a good citizen and severe punishments for being a rule breaker.'
Still, whatever our true motivation, behaving virtuously is almost always a good thing -- and it will likely make us happier.

The Midnight Visitor

Ausable did not fit the description of any secret agent. Fowler had ever read about. Following him down the corridor of the old French hotel where Ausable had a room， Fowler felt disappointed. It was a small room， on the sixth and top floor and hardly a setting for a romantic figure.
　　 Ausable was， for one thing， fat. Very fat. Very fat. And then there was his accent. Though he spoke French and German fairly well， he had never altogether lost the New England accent he had brought to Pairs from Boston twenty years ago.
　　 “You are disappointed，” Ausable said over his shoulder. “You were told that I was a secret agent， a spy. You wished to meet me because you are a writer， young and romantic. You expected mysterious figures in the right， the crack of pistols， drugs in the wine.”
　　 “Instead， you have spent a whole evening in a French music hall with a dirtylooking fat man who， instead of having messages slipped into his hand by dark -- eyed beauties， gets only an ordinary telephone call making an appointment in his room. You have been bored!” The fat man laughted quietly as he unlocked the door of his room and stood aside to let his guest enter.
　　 “But take cheer， my young friend，” Ausable told him.
　　 “Soon you will see a paper， a quite important paper for which several men and women have risked their lives， come to me in the nexttolast step of its journey into official hands. Some day that paper may well affect the course of history. In that thought is drama， is there not?” As he spoke， Ausable closed the door behind him. Then he turned on the light.
　　 And as the light came on， Fowler had his first shock of the day. For halfway across the room， a small pistol in his hand， stood a man. Ausable blinked a few times.
　　 “Max，” he said， “you gave me quite a start. I thought you were in Berlin. What are you doing in my room?”
　　 Max was thin， not tall， and with a face that suggested the look of a fox. Except for the gun， he did not look very dangerous.
　　 “The report，” he said in a quiet voice. “The report that is being brought to you tonight about some new missiles. I thought I would take it from you. It will be safer in my hands than in yours.”
　　 Ausable moved to an armchair and sat down heavily. “I’m going to raise the devil with the management this time; I am angry，” he said firmly. “This is the second time in a month that somebody has gotten into my room from that balcony!” Fowler’s eyes went to the single window of the room. It was an ordinary window， with the black night outside.
　　 “Balcony?” Max asked. “No， I had a passkey. I did not know about the balcony. It could have saved me some trouble had I known about it.”
　　 “It’s not my balcony，” explained Ausable angrily. “It belongs to the next apartment. You see， this room used to be part of a large unit， and the next room had the balcony， which extends under my window now. You can get onto it from the empty room next door， and somebody did， last month. The management promised to block it off. But they haven’t.”
　　 Fowler was standing stiffly near Ausable. “Please sit down，” said Max to Fowler， waving his gun with a commanding gesture. “We have a wait of about half an hour.”
　　 “I wish I knew how you Germans learned about the report， Max，” said Ausable.
　　 The little spy smiled. “And we wish we knew how people got the report. But， no harm has been done. I will get it back tonight. What is that? Who is at the door?”
　　 Fowler jumped at the sudden knocking at the door.
　　 usable just smiled. “That will be the police，” he said， “I thought that such an important paper as the one we were waiting for should have a little extra protection. I told them to check on me to make sure everything was all right.”
　　 Max bit his lip.The knocking was repeated.
　　 “What will you do now， Max?” Ausable asked. “If I do not answer the door， they will enter anyway. The door is unlocked. And they will not hesitate to shoot.”
　　 Max’s face was black with anger as he backed swiftly toward the window; with his hand behind him， he opened the window and put his leg out into the night. “I will wait on the balcony. Send them away or I’ll shoot and take my chances!”
　　 The knocking at the door became louder and a voice was raised. “Mr. Ausable! Mr. Ausable!”
　　 Keeping his body twisted so that his gun still covered the fat man and his guest， the man at the window seized the frame with his free hand to support himself as he rested his weight on one thigh. Then he swung his other leg up and over the window sill.
　　 The doorknob turned. Swiftly Max pushed with his left hand to free himself， and dropped to the balcony. And then as he dropped， he screamed once shrilly.
　　 The door opened and a waiter stood there with a tray， a bottle and two glasses. “Here is the drink you ordered， sir.” He set the tray on the table and left the room.
　　 White faced and shaking， Fowler stared after him. “But... but... what about... the police?” he stammered.
　　 “There never were any police，” Ausable said. “Only Henry， whom I was expecting.”
　　 “But what about the man on the balcony...?” Fowler began.

Home Truth

It was the smell of rain that I missed the most and the sound of a lawnmower and the waft of cut grass. It was being out in the open and standing bare foot! Blue skies part and parcel of it all; the thunder that would blast over and leave—the coming of a tropical sundown, an evening of barbecues, of warm pools, beer splattering on concrete. The bed awaiting, a vest, a body glistening from perspiration and a sleep of pillows constantly changing sides, a mosquito in the ear. Sleepless nights that were all you knew. And then, one day I left it behind. I moved to a city, to grim faced pallid movements, and there I became with them a ghost on the sidewalks. Dimly, ambling along with my face down, watching my steps and hurrying towards my quotidian activities.
Winters I spent indoor in solace. My flat mates—the friends I had—worked day and night. They were accustomed to leaving the soul behind, the need for money was so official. I would spend nights in the strange house, with creaks of a wall I did not know, and sit by the phone that our landlord had locked, and think of conversations of the past, of my mother's voice ringing, of my best friend whom I would lose contact with, and I would write letters, letters I would never send, letters that clutched the truth—that only I knew. I would cry, tears staining the ink, a smudged idea of love. I was temping then, doing mindless data entry, tapping words into a computer, and moving on wondering what worth there was, and how to find it. My flat mates would come home just before midnight—Mark and Craig, my two best friends. I would smile inwardly and outwardly and make them tea, a sandwich, sit with them and live their lives, hear their stories, flourish in company. Sleep would be eschewed, I yearned for comfort, and company eased the etching of loneliness.
I drank a lot, I had a job and I met people, and I continued my ambling in a city that was not mine. Every Friday my work offered free drinks and I catapulted towards the bar, I sipped 8)ferociously at the wine, the beer, I got horrifically drunk and so the person that I was not, but so yearned to be would come out. She, loud, vivacious, articulate would spend the evening conversing with strangers, laughing and sometimes, flirting! I seemed to step out of myself and watch in amazement. After drinks, I would stumble to the Palladium to meet Mark and Craig—they both worked there as ushers. I would arrive as they were finishing work and we would sit in the bar and I would continue, I would drink.
One night we fell drunk into the house. I lit a cigarette; I sat down and my mind triggered off dull thuds of depression. I went to the bathroom and in a mode of translucent mania I took out a razor blade and in numb motions slowly cut at my wrist, tears streaming down my face, I stopped as soon as I started, my aim was wrong-it was in the name of attention, except I would tell nobody, the attention was all to myself. Quietly, I wrapped my stinging arm with toilet paper, walked to my room and put on a jersey so as to cover the threat, the childish self abuse. I lay and quickly wiped my tears as I heard the friendly footsteps of Mark and Craig. They stood and bantered and eventually I followed them downstairs, and listened to Bob Marley, and Redemption song, my favorite song—"Sold I to the merchant ships…"
And so, I stood on the tube, Dollis Hill to Marylebone and I stared at the scars on my wrist. The scars of stupidity that only I knew of, I was entranced, as though it were not me—it's never me. I swayed to the motion of the train, the city was corrupting me, my soul was slowly bitten, I wanted to yell out my mind, but it all seeped inwards, I was boring myself with my own pleas.
It got better, as it does get better, as you know no better and I sunk into my life, I slowly enjoyed its offerings, I adjusted to the climate, to the people and one day as I walked outside my new flat—not mine of course, but my temporary abode that I rented, as I took out the garbage on a autumn Saturday—in my pyjamas, with the TV and the glow of comfort, I looked at the grey, I sucked it in and I quite enjoyed it—it's romantic quality, it's gloom appealed to me, as it would eventually with my nature. I liked it. I went inside, and shivered—a content chill, I enjoyed the cold and the idea of being able to get warm and I lay on the couch with my toes under a cushion, an inane program keeping me entertained. It all grows on you.
I went home, eventually. I spent five months appreciating the beauty, the climate, the content natures surrounding me. I ate healthy food, I listened to a language I had forgotten about, I roamed on farms that were not mine, went to wine harvests, put on high factors to shield out the sun, spend days lamenting the heat. But, it was not time, I was unable to indulge as the city, London, was still with me, my love and loathing relationship was still continuing, I was still meant to be there, whether unhappy or not. I could not explain it, it's not the city I suppose, it's me-I need to be content. I left, I left what I love so much, no great epiphany, just not at that moment. One day home will come to me, or I will go to home and I await the knowledge in peace.

Forever relational

If somebody tells you, “ I'll love you for ever, ” wIll you belIeve It? 　　、
I don't thInk there's any reason not to. we are ready to belIeve such commItment at the moment, whatever change may happen afterwards. as for the belIef In an everlastIng love, that's another thIng. 　　
then you may be asked whether there Is such a thIng as an everlastIng love. I'd answer I belIeve In It. but an everlastIng love Is not Immutable. 　　
you may unswervIngly love or be loved by a person. but love wIll change Its composItIon wIth the passage of tIme. It wIll not remaIn the same. In the course of your growth and as a result of your Increased experIence, love wIll become somethIng dIfferent to you. 　　
In the begInnIng you belIeved a fervent love for a person could last IndefInItely. by and by, however,“ fervent” gave way to “ prosaIc” . precIsely because of thIs change It became possIble for love to last. then what was meant by an everlastIng love would eventually end up In a sort of Interdependence. 　　
we used to InsIst on the dIfference between love and lIkIng. the former seemed much more beautIful than the latter. one day, however, It turns out there's really no need to make such dIfference. lIkIng Is actually a sort of love.by the same token, the everlastIng Interdependence Is actually an everlastIng love. 　　
I wIsh I could belIeve there was somebody who would love me for ever. that's, as we all know, too romantIc to be true. Instead, It wIll more often than not be a case of lastIng relatIonshIp.

My Miraculous Family

I never considered myself unique, but people are constantly telling me, "you are a miracle." To me, I was just an ordinary "guy" with realistic goals and big dreams. I was a 19-year-old student at the University of Texas and well on my way toward fulfilling my "big dream" of one day becoming an 1)orthopedic surgeon.
On the night of February 17, 1981 I was studying for an 2)Organic Chemistry test at the library with Sharon, my girlfriend of three years. Sharon had asked me to drive her back to her dormitory as it was getting quite late. We got into my car, not realizing that just getting into a car would never quite be the same for me again. I quickly noticed that my gas 3)gauge was registered on empty so I pulled into a nearby convenience store to buy $2.00 worth of gas. "I'll be back in two minutes," I yelled at Sharon as I closed the door. But instead, those two minutes changed my life forever.
Entering the convenience store was like entering the 4)twilight zone. On the outside I was a healthy, athletic, pre-med student, but on the inside I was just another statistic of a violent crime. I thought I was entering an empty store, but suddenly I realized it was not empty at all. Three robbers were in the process of committing a robbery and my entrance into the store caught them by surprise. One of the criminals immediately 5)shoved a .38 6)caliber handgun to my head, ordered me to the cooler, pushed me down on the floor, and pumped a bullet into the back of my head - execution style. He obviously thought I was dead because he did not shoot me again. The 7) trio of thieves finished robbing the store and left calmly.
Meanwhile, Sharon wondered why I had not returned. After seeing the three men leave the store she really began to worry as I was the last person she saw entering the store. She quickly went inside to look for me, but saw no one-only an almost empty cash register containing one check and several pennies. Quickly she ran down each aisle shouting, "Mike, Mike!"
Just then the 8) attendant appeared from the back of the store shouting, "Lady, get down on the floor. I've just been robbed and shot at!"
Sharon quickly dropped to the floor screaming, "Have you seen my boyfriend? He has 9)auburn hair." The man did not reply but went back to the cooler where he found me choking on my vomit. The attendant quickly cleaned my mouth and then called for the police and an ambulance.
Sharon was in shock. She was beginning to understand that I was hurt, but she could not begin to comprehend or imagine the severity of my injury.
When the police arrived they immediately called the 10)homicide division as they did not think I would survive and the 11)paramedic reported that she had never seen a person so severely wounded survive. At 1:30 a.m. my parents who lived in Houston, were awakened by a telephone call from Brackenridge Hospital advising them to come to Austin as soon as possible for they feared I would not make it through the night.
But I did make it through the night and early in the morning the 12)neurosurgeon decided to operate. However, he quickly informed my family and Sharon that my chances of surviving the surgery were only 40/60. If this were not bad enough, the neurosurgeon further shocked my family by telling them what life would be like for me if I 13)beat the odds and survived. He said I probably would never walk, talk, or be able to understand even simple commands.
My family was hoping and praying to hear even the slightest bit of encouragement from that doctor. Instead, his pessimistic words gave my family no reason to believe that I would ever again be a productive member of society. But once again I beat the odds and survived the three and a half hours of surgery.
Granted, I still could not talk, my entire right side was paralyzed and many people thought I could not understand, but at least I was stable. After one week in a private room the doctors felt I had improved enough to be transferred by jet ambulance to Del Oro 14)Rehabilitation Hospital in Houston.
My 15)hallucinations, coupled with my physical problems, made my 16)prognosis still very bleak. However, as time passed my mind began to clear and approximately six weeks later my right leg began to move ever so slightly. Within seven weeks my right arm slowly began to move and at eight weeks I uttered my first few words.
My speech was extremely difficult and slow in the beginning, but at least it was a beginning. I was starting to look forward to each new day to see how far I would progress. But just as I thought my life was finally looking brighter I was tested by the hospital europsychologist. She explained to me that judging from my test results she believed that I should not focus on returning to college but that it would be better to set more "realistic goals."
Upon hearing her evaluation I became furious for I thought, "Who is she to tell me what I can or cannot do. She does not even know me. I am a very determined and stubborn person!" I believe it was at that very moment that I decided I would somehow, someday return to college.
It took me a long time and a lot of hard work but I finally returned to the University of Texas in the fall of 1983 - a year and a half after almost dying. The next few years in Austin were very difficult for me, but I truly believe that in order to see beauty in life you have to experience some unpleasantness. Maybe I have experienced too much unpleasantness, but I believe in living each day to the fullest, and doing the very best I can.
And each new day was very busy and very full, for besides attending classes at the University I underwent therapy three to five days each week at Brackenridge Hospital. If this were not enough I flew to Houston every other weekend to work with Tom Williams, a trainer and executive who had worked for many colleges and professional teams and also had helped many injured athletes, such as Earl Campbell and Eric Dickerson. Through Tom I learned: "Nothing is impossible and never, never give up or quit."
Early, during my therapy, my father kept repeating to me one of his favorite sayings. I have repeated it almost every day since being hurt: "Mile by mile it's a trial; yard by yard it's hard; but inch by inch it's a cinch."
I thought of those words, and I thought of Tom, my family and Sharon who believed so strongly in me as I climbed the steps to receive my diploma from the Dean of Liberal Arts at the University of Texas on that bright sunny afternoon in June of 1986. Excitement and pride filled my heart as I heard the dean announce that I had graduated with "highest honors", been elected to Phi Beta Kappa, and been chosen as one of 12 Dean's Distinguished Graduates out of 1600 in the College of Liberal Arts.
The overwhelming emotions and feelings that I experienced at that very moment, when most of the audience gave me a standing 17)ovation, I felt would never again be matched in my life-not even when I graduated with a masters degree in social work and not even when I became employed full time at the Texas Pain and Stress Center. But I was wrong!
On May 24, 1987, I realized that nothing could ever match the joy I felt as Sharon and I were married. Sharon, my high school sweetheart of nine years, had always stood by me, through good and bad times. To me, Sharon is my miracle, my diamond in a world filled with problems, hurt, and pain. It was Sharon who dropped out of school when I was hurt so that she could constantly be at my side. She never wavered or gave up on me.
It was her faith and love that pulled me through so many dark days. While other nineteen year old girls were going to parties and enjoying life, Sharon devoted her life to my recovery. That, to me, is the true definition of love.
After our beautiful wedding I continued working part time at the Pain Center and completed my work for a masters degree. We were extremely happy, but even happier when we learned Sharon was pregnant.
On July 11, 1990 at 12:15 a.m. Sharon woke me with the news: "We need to go to the hospital… my water just broke." I couldn't help but think how ironic it was that my life almost ended in a convenience store and now on the date "7-11" we were about to bring a new life into this world. This time it was my turn to help Sharon as she had helped me over those past years.
She was in labor for 15 hours. At 3:10 p.m. Sharon and I experienced the birth of our beautiful daughter, Shawn Elyse Segal!
Tears of joy and happiness came to my eyes as our healthy, alert, wonderful daughter entered this world. We anxiously counted her 10 fingers and her 10 toes and watched her wide eyes take in the world about her. It was truly a beautiful picture that was 18)etched in my mind forever as she lie in her mother's waiting arms, just minutes after her birth. At that moment I thanked God for blessing us with the greatest miracle of all-Shawn Elyse Segal.

The Little Match-Girl

It was dreadfully cold, it was snowing fast, and almost dark； the evening----the last evening of the old year was drawing in. But, cold and dark as it was, a poor little girl, with bare head and feet, was still wandering about the streets. When she left her home she had slippers on, but they were much too large for her； indeed, properly, they belonged to her mother, and had dropped off her feet whilst she was running very fast across the road, to get out of the way of two carriages. One of the slippers was not to be found, the other had been snatched up by a little boy, who ran off with it thinking it might serve him as a doll's cradle.
　So the little girl now walked on, her bare feet quite red and blue with the cold. She carried a small bundle of matches in her hand, and a good many more in her tattered apron. No one had bought any of them the live long day； no one had given her a single penny. Trembling with cold and hunger crept she on, the picture of sorrow: poor little child!
　　The snow-flakes fell on her long, fair hair, which curled in such pretty ringlets over her shoulders； but she thought not of her own beauty, or of the cold. Lights were glimmering through every window, and the savor of roast goose reached her from several houses； it was New Year's eve, and it was of this that she thought.
　　In a corner formed by two houses, one of which projected beyond the other. She sat down, drawing her little feet close under her, but in vain, she could not warm them. She dared not go home, she had sold no matches, earned not a single penny, and perhaps her father would beat her， besides her home was almost as cold as the street， it was an attic； and although the larger of the many chinks in the roof were stopped up with straw and rags. the wind and snow often penetrated through. Her hands were nearly dead with cold； one little match from her bundle would warm them. Perhaps, if she dared light it, she drew one out, and struck it against the wall, bravo! it was a bright, warm flame, and she held her hands over it. It was quite an illumination for that poor little girl； nay,1 call it rather a magic taper, for it seemed to her as though she was sitting before a large iron-stove with brass ornaments, so beautifully blazed the fire within! The child stretched out her feet to warm them also； alas, in an instant the flame had died away, the stove vanished, the little girl sat cold and comfortless, with the burnt match in her hand.
　　A second match was struck against the wall； it kindles and blazed, and wherever its light fell the wall became transparent as a veil. The little girl could see into the room within. She saw the table spread with a snow-white damask cloth, whereon were ranged shining china-dishes； the roast goose stuffed with apples and dried plums stood at one end, smoking hot, and which was pleasantest of all to see；the goose, with knife and fork still in her breast, jumped down from the dish, and waddled along the floor right up to the poor child. The match was burnt out, and only the thick, hard wall was beside her.

I hoped that I lose once again

Where there is great love, there are always miracles. Love is like a butterfly. It goes where it pleases and it pleases where it goes.
If I had a single flower for every time I think about you, I could walk forever in my garden.
Within you I lose myself, without you I find myself wanting to be lost again.
At the touch of love everyone becomes a poet.
Look into my eyes - you will see what you mean to me.
Distance makes the hearts grow fonder.
I need him like I need the air to breathe.
If equal affection cannot be, let the more loving be me.
Love is a vine that grows into our hearts.
If I know what love is, it is because of you.
Love is the greatest refreshment in life.
Love never dies.
The darkness is no darkness with thee.
We cease loving ourselves if no one loves us.
There is no remedy for love but to love more.
When love is not madness, it is not love.
A heart that loves is always young.
Love is blind.
Love is like the moon, when it does not increase, it decreases.
The soul cannot live without love.
Brief is life, but love is long.
Who travels for love finds a thousand miles not longer than one.
Love keeps the cold out better than a cloak.
Take away love, and our earth is a tomb.
My heart is with you.
I miss you so much already and I haven't even left yet!
I'll think of you every step of the way.
Wherever you go, whatever you do, I will be right here waiting for you.
Passionate love is a quenchless thirst.
The most precious possession that ever comes to a man in this world is a woman's heart.
One word frees us of all the weight and pain in life.That word is love.
Every day without you is like a book without pages.
Love is hard to get into, but harder to get out of.
Love is a light that never dims.
May your love soar on the wings of a dove in flight.
She who has never loved, has never lived.
Life is the flower for which love is the honey.
No words are necessary between two loving hearts.
Precious things are very few in this world. That is the reason there is just one you.
You make my heart smile.
The road to a lover's house is never long.
Why do the good girls, always want the bad boys?
Being with you is like walking on a very clear morning.
It is never too late to fall in love.
To the world you may be just one person. To the person you may be the world.
Where there is love, there are always wishes.
You don't love a woman because she is beautiful, but she is beautiful because you love her.
Love is something eternal; the aspect may change, but not the essence.
Love is not a matter of counting the days. It's making the days count.
With the wonder of your love, the sun above always shines.
Love is a fabric that nature wove and fantasy embroidered.
First love is unforgettable all one's life.
In the very smallest cot there is room enough for a loving pair.
Love without end hath no end.
Love's tongue is in the eyes.
In love folly is always sweet.
There is no hiding from lover's eyes.
The only present love demands is love.
The heart that once truly loves never forgets.
Love warms more than a thousand fires.
Your smiling at me is my daily dose of magic.
Your kiss still burns on my lips, everyday of mine is so beautiful.
Love understands love; it needs no talk.
Love me little and love me long.
First impression of you is most lasting.
When the words "I love you" were said by you for the first time, my world blossoms.
Tell me you are mine. I'll be yours through all the years, till the end of time.
Love is a fire which burns unseen.
I feel happy at times we have had angry words but these have been kissed away.
You cannot appreciate happiness unless you have known sadness too.
But if the while I think on thee, dear friend, all losses are restored, and sorrows end.

Marie Curie——The Nobel Prize in Physics 1903

Marie Curie——The Nobel Prize in Physics 1903Biography
Marie Curie, née Maria Sklodowska, was born in Warsaw on November 7, 1867, the daughter of a secondary-school teacher. She received a general education in local schools and some scientific training from her father. She became involved in a students' revolutionary organization and found it prudent to leave Warsaw, then in the part of Poland dominated by Russia, for Cracow, which at that time was under Austrian rule. In 1891, she went to Paris to continue her studies at the Sorbonne where she obtained Licenciateships in Physics and the Mathematical Sciences. She met Pierre Curie, Professor in the School of Physics in 1894 and in the following year they were married. She succeeded her husband as Head of the Physics Laboratory at the Sorbonne, gained her Doctor of Science degree in 1903, and following the tragic death of Pierre Curie in 1906, she took his place as Professor of General Physics in the Faculty of Sciences, the first time a woman had held this position. She was also appointed Director of the Curie Laboratory in the Radium Institute of the University of Paris, founded in 1914.Her early researches, together with her husband, were often performed under difficult conditions, laboratory arrangements were poor and both had to undertake much teaching to earn a livelihood. The discovery of radioactivity by Henri Becquerel in 1896 inspired the Curies in their brilliant researches and analyses which led to the isolation of polonium, named after the country of Marie's birth, and radium. Mme. Curie developed methods for the separation of radium from radioactive residues in sufficient quantities to allow for its characterization and the careful study of its properties, therapeutic properties in particular.Mme. Curie throughout her life actively promoted the use of radium to alleviate suffering and during World War I, assisted by her daughter, Irene, she personally devoted herself to this remedial work. She retained her enthusiasm for science throughout her life and did much to establish a radioactivity laboratory in her native city - in 1929 President Hoover of the United States presented her with a gift of $ 50,000, donated by American friends of science, to purchase radium for use in the laboratory in Warsaw.Mme. Curie, quiet, dignified and unassuming, was held in high esteem and admiration by scientists throughout the world. She was a member of the Conseil du Physique Solvay from 1911 until her death and since 1922 she had been a member of the Committee of Intellectual Co-operation of the League of Nations. Her work is recorded in numerous papers in scientific journals and she is the author of Recherches sur les Substances Radioactives (1904), L'Isotopie et les Éléments Isotopes and the classic Traité' de Radioactivité (1910).The importance of Mme. Curie's work is reflected in the numerous awards bestowed on her. She received many honorary science, medicine and law degrees and honorary memberships of learned societies throughout the world. Together with her husband, she was awarded half of the Nobel Prize for Physics in 1903, for their study into the spontaneous radiation discovered by Becquerel, who was awarded the other half of the Prize. In 1911 she received a second Nobel Prize, this time in Chemistry, in recognition of her work in radioactivity. She also received, jointly with her husband, the Davy Medal of the Royal Society in 1903 and, in 1921, President Harding of the United States, on behalf of the women of America, presented her with one gram of radium in recognition of her service to science.
For further details, cf. Biography of Pierre Curie. Mme. Curie died in Savoy, France, after a short illness, on July 4, 1934.
From Nobel Lectures, Physics 1901-1921, Elsevier Publishing Company, Amsterdam, 1967
This autobiography/biography was first published in the book series Les Prix Nobel. It was later edited and republished in Nobel Lectures. To cite this document, always state the source as shown above.

Can You Hear Me Now?

Can You Hear Me Now?
A look at what happens when quiet health problems go undetected in students. by Lory Hough
Joanna Belcher, Ed.M.’08, wasn’t surprised when Diego’s mother came to the elementary school in Compton, Calif., where she was working as a reading and language arts teacher, to talk about her son. For the past two years, the single mother had been meeting with Belcher to discuss work habits and homework for Diego, a fourth-grader, and for her older son, Edgar. At the time, Belcher was driving the two boys on Saturdays to a gifted program while the mother worked. The previous year, she helped them pick a middle school for Edgar.
“I wasn’t surprised when she came to me because I had a great relationship with this mother,” says Belcher, now a student in the School Leadership Program.
What shocked her was what Diego’s mother had to say: At home she was repeating comments to her son and suspected he had a hearing problem. After getting a referral from the nurse’s aide at school, finding a local clinic, and helping the mother, who spoke Spanish, translate her concerns to the specialist, Belcher discovered that the mother was right. Diego had almost no hearing in one ear.
“I’m ashamed to say that I didn’t notice his hearing loss. He was a very bright student who aced almost every assignment and loved to participate in class,” Belcher says. “When she brought the subject to my attention, I thought about small indicators, like him asking me to repeat questions frequently, that I hadn’t associated with possible hearing loss.”
Diego is actually one of the lucky ones: As a fourth grader, he was still doing well academically in spite of his hearing problem. But what would have happened if the problem had gone unnoticed for another year? For five years? Like many kids, his grades might have started to slip or his attention in class may have waned — and no one would likely have connected the dots. Hearing problems like Diego’s are just one of the many undetected “quiet” troubles, as Lecturer Rick Weissbourd, Ed.D.’87, calls them, that some students bring to school every day, particularly students in low-income communities. They come hungry, sleep deprived, and unable to see the blackboard. Some are stressed, depressed, and anxious about their safety.
On their own, these troubles, whether physical or psychological, are just that: troubling. No one wants a child suffering through class with a massive toothache. But what’s even more worrisome is the fact that for some students, these quiet troubles, when left unchecked, can spiral into bigger health and learning problems that can severely impact their ability to do well in school.
An undetected vision problem, for example, makes it hard for a first- or second-grader to read, Weissbourd says. “Reading failure is one of the prime pathways into special education, and once you get into special ed, it’s hard to get out,” he says, noting that an estimated 25 percent of students in urban schools have undetected vision problems. “Deal with the vision problem so that you don’t have to put the kid into special education. I don’t want to overstate this — most kids in special education do not have undetected vision problems — but it is a factor.”
Antonia Orfield writes in Eyes for Learning that schools in only 32 states mandate annual eye exams; even when given, the exams focus primarily on the ability to see far. In most states, parental follow-up is not required. Students miss the vision test because many families, especially in urban areas, move frequently. Kids also lose glasses, and Medicaid can take months to replace them. With 85 percent of school activities being visual, once students fall behind, it can be hard to catch up. One study found that 80 percent of juvenile delinquents doing poorly in school had vision problems.
Nutrition is another quiet trouble. Research shows that weight affects attendance. A study published last August in the journal Obesity found that obese and overweight fourth- to sixth-graders in nine schools missed more days each year than underweight and “normal” students — 12.2 for obese, 10.9 for overweight, 10.1 for normal, and 7.5 for underweight.
Students also miss days when they’re not eating enough, a problem that often impacts concentration. President Harry Truman tried to address this decades ago when he signed the National School Lunch Act in 1946, guaranteeing a free school lunch to children in need. Twenty years later, the breakfast program was added. Unfortunately, “kids are still coming to school hungry,” says Weissbourd. In the United States, an estimated 11 million children live in homes where people have to skip meals or eat less in order to make ends meet. Even when breakfast is provided at school, time constraints often push students through the meal, or if they’re on a late bus, they miss it altogether. When Belcher was working in Washington, D.C., many of her students came to school so hungry that they complained about head- and stomachaches. She started handing out granola bars and other snacks. She would also make bag lunches for students to take home for the weekend.
Why are these quiet troubles going unnoticed or untreated? For starters, as Weissbourd discovered in a study he did with Caroline Watts, Ed.M.’87, Ed.D.’93, and Lecturer Terrence Tivnan, M.A.T.’70, Ed.D.’80, the very nature of quiet issues makes them difficult, if not impossible, for overextended teachers and other educators to detect or measure. Caretaking is an example. Many students supervise siblings and tend to sick parents, which can lead to less sleep and added stress. Other students are being cared for by elderly relatives whose own health situations make it difficult to fully care for children.
Quiet issues also get drowned out by “louder” issues. Aggressive and challenging kids often become the focus of attention in school. These kids, Weissbourd explains in his book, The Vulnerable Child, can “operate like brushfires in a classroom, igniting other children and engulfing the energies of their teachers. They require constant vigilance: they are always in the center of their teachers’ radar screens.”
As a result, quiet kids and their problems get overlooked. Belcher says that her experience with Diego, a star student, made it painfully clear how easily this happens.
“Teachers may not notice quiet problems with students who work very hard and aren’t behavior problems,” she says. “During my first two years of teaching in California, I had 33 students in my class. Although I built wonderful relationships with my students’ families, the ‘squeaky wheel gets the oil’ concept definitely applied much of the time.”
Noticing quiet problems is just one hurdle, says Lesley Ryan, Ed.M.’01, a former teacher at the Lee Academy in Boston (a pilot school that Weissbourd helped start) who now oversees new teachers at four public schools in the city. Better preparing educators to handle quiet troubles is another.
“Without proper training for these issues and without someone to help you deal with them, then as a teacher, you don’t always know what to do,” she says. “If a child isn’t doing well, many times the first thing you do is start a psychiatric evaluation. No one thinks to ask: Does this kid need glasses? It would be a lot easier to get a vision screening and find a donor for glasses than go through a whole psych evaluation.”
Charissa Saenz, Ed.M.’04, an English teacher at a rural high school in El Paso, Texas, says her formal education as a teacher focused more on academics and pedagogical theories. “When these issues were brought up, it was usually in the context of classroom management and student buy-in rather than how to deal with quiet issues in terms of resolution, administration, and school policy,” she says. That puts a lot of pressure on teachers.
“Personally, I am overwhelmed by the frequency and severity of these issues and often feel inadequate as an educator when it comes to dealing with them,” she says. “I speak for myself, but I’m sure that many educators would agree with me when I say that the burden rests on us when it comes to dealing with these quiet issues; any outside help or support is a rare commodity.”
Administrators and district officials, she says, are often more focused on more public troubles. “High-stakes testing and perfect attendance are frequently discussed during faculty meetings or teacher in-services,” she says, “while the quiet issues are rarely, if ever, brought to the surface.”
The problem is that schools can only take on so much alone, says Watts, director of Children’s Hospital Neighborhood Partnerships in Boston.
“It’s not fair to say that schools can take over these services if we don’t give them the resources they need,” she says. Her program, which is funded by grants, private donors, and some partner contributions, is trying to help with one resource that is sorely lacking in most schools: good mental health services. The program sends clinicians and social workers into Boston Public Schools to help children and families at risk before serious mental and emotional disorders emerge. It also trains school staff to identify and respond to signs of distress. Watts says the program started in 2002 when it became clear that schools in the city badly needed help. Research showed that 16 percent of Boston high school students had contemplated suicide, and 12 percent made a suicide attempt. At the time, the wait for outpatient mental health services had increased by about 200 percent.
One of the contributing factors is trauma — a louder issue that often gets expressed quietly. “Kids are living in unsafe neighborhoods or homes,” says Watts. “If they’re living in a home with domestic violence, this is a child who is probably sleep deprived because he or she is hypervigilant. That’s not a quiet problem, that’s a huge problem.”
Belcher remembers one student who was about two years behind in skill level. At the time, her primary caregiver, her grandmother, died, and then her father was shot and killed by police. The school didn’t have a counselor, so Belcher did what she could: she bought the student a journal.
“Her writing contained detailed descriptions of violent acts and her feelings,” she says. “As a teacher, it was so frustrating for me to see a child in so much turmoil and not have any professional resources with which to connect her at school to help her get through this time.”
Getting to know students at that level is one way to discover quiet issues. Getting caregivers involved can also help, says Lecturer Jackie Zeller, a psychologist who also works with the Children’s Hospital Neighborhood Partnership.
“When caregivers feel that they can trust their children’s teachers, they are more likely to reveal familial challenges and more personal information that might be impacting their children’s progress at school,” she says. “Children are embedded in multiple contexts, and undeniably the home is one of the most important of those contexts. If we do not include parents and caregivers in our conversations, we are missing important partners for our students’ successful development.”
Hearing problems...are just one of the many undetected “quiet” troubles, as Lecturer Rick Weissbourd, Ed.D.’87, calls them, that some students bring to school every day, particularly students in low-income communities. They come hungry, sleep deprived, and unable to see the blackboard. Some are stressed, depressed, and anxious about their safety.More often than not, says Liz Aybar, Ed.M.’02, principal of P.S. 1 Charter School in Denver, caregivers want to be involved.
“I get frustrated when I hear the assumption that low-income parents don’t care,” she says. “I do not find that to be true. Most families in our school, across the board, tell us it is critical for their child to be in school and to do well. There can be circumstances where they’re working two or three jobs and they can’t be there, but our parents wholeheartedly advocate for their children’s education and want to be partners with us.”
At Codman Academy, a small charter school that Meg Campbell, C.A.S.’97, started in a neighborhood health center in Boston, the staff gets families involved from day one at the initial “intake” session by asking lots of questions: What were years one through three like for the student? How much TV does the family watch? What time do they go to sleep?
“We try to make everything transparent,” Campbell says, “and engage parents in a meaningful way.”
Sometimes, though, caregivers are also affected by quiet problems, particularly depression. It is estimated that between 10 and 20 percent of all parents suffer from acute or severe depression, says Weissbourd. Another 30 to 60 percent of lowincome parents suffer from milder forms of depression. Studies show that children learn best in language-rich environments where parents are reading and asking questions — something that is harder for depressed parents to muster on a daily basis.
“It’s a huge issue. It takes a lot more effort for a depressed parent to help with homework or read to their children,” he says. “Many do incredibly well despite being depressed, but it’s a whole lot harder.”
Not having health insurance also makes it harder for families to stay on top of quiet troubles. Although some states offer comprehensive insurance programs for the poorest kids, many states are struggling with funding these programs as they face the worst deficits they’ve seen in years.
“When families do not have access to health insurance, they often must wait until health problems become more severe, or they go to overwhelmed clinics where they may not see the same doctor consistently, affecting the doctor’s understanding of their medical history,” says Belcher.
Untreated dental problems are a prime example. For the first time in 40 years, according to the National Center for Health Statistics, the number of cavities in preschool-age children is on the rise. The news is even worse for poor kids. About one-third of all children living below the poverty level did not have a recent dental visit in 2005, compared with less than one-fifth of children with higher incomes. Poor dental care leads to pain and tooth loss, which can lead to high levels of absenteeism, the inability to concentrate, and in some cases, poor speech development. In 2006, the School of Dentistry at the University of Michigan surveyed 4,000 kindergarten and elementary students. A toothache kept 20 percent of them up at night and 3 percent home from school. Nearly 20 percent said discomfort made it hard to pay attention in class.
“Kids come to you holding their mouths. What are you supposed to do?” Ryan says. “Even if you send them home, if a kid doesn’t have insurance, nothing is going to get fixed. It’s another one of those problems that spirals. If you don’t have insurance, you don’t get cleanings, which leads to decay, which leads to pain, and then you can’t focus on your work.”
Although a lack of insurance is usually linked to poverty, Weissbourd stresses that many poor kids do not have problems and “lots of people do well despite the problems” that come from being poor. In addition, many quiet issues, such as sleep deprivation, cut across economic lines. A 1998 survey of more than 3,000 high school students from a variety of schools found that students who reported getting Cs, Ds, and Fs in school went to bed about 40 minutes later than students who reported getting As and Bs. Other factors contributing to sleep deprivation include being anxious and going to bed with the TV on. Early school start times have also been blamed. (Some schools, like Codman Academy, have responded by starting later.)
What more can be done? Prevention, most say, is critical. Schools need to form local partnerships with dental schools and mental health centers. With parents, they need to hold mattress and eyeglass drives. They need to better train teachers. They also need to better observe students.
In Denver, Aybar pairs each of her students with an advisor. They meet every day to see how the student is doing. Parents and guardians also meet with the advisors several times a year and become part of a support team that is pulled together if a problem — quiet or loud — is suspected. At Codman Academy, if a student has his or her head down on the desk, they are sent to the reflection room and asked to fill out a sheet that helps them think about their actions. Staff members meet weekly to review the sheets.
What more can be done? Prevention, most say, is critical. Schools need to form local partnerships with dental schools and mental health centers. With parents, they need to hold mattress and eyeglass drives. They need to better train teachers. They also need to better observe students.“We’ll look at the data and we’ll notice that student X was in reflection three times. One of us will go talk to that student,” Campbell says. “Something is usually going on in their lives. Our assumption is that you want to be here learning, so we have to figure out what’s getting in the way of that.”
Becoming data-driven around quiet issues is a must for schools these days, says Weissbourd. Too often, he says, schools do the minimum when it comes to these issues — a one-time workshop on proper nutrition, for example, that is attended by the same small group of parents. “We should try a different approach. Let’s try to be systematic,” he says. For example, “It’s important for schools to keep track of how many kids are coming to school sleep deprived. If a third of kids are consistently tired, the school should try several strategies and track whether they can bring that percentage down.”
Most schools, however, are not set up to think about students this way, says Watts. Instead, they divvy up the tasks.
“We tend to compartmentalize: grades are the teacher’s responsibility, feelings are the counselor’s,” Watts says. “We need to think about the whole child, the whole classroom, the whole school, and leverage our strengths.”
Schools also have to commit to making quiet issues a priority, says Ryan.
“It takes the school to be rigorous about issues like this,” she says. “They need to say to kids, ‘Hey, you need to wear your glasses,’ and then have parents stay on them. Kids lose glasses all the time. As a teacher, I’ve actually taken away kids’ glasses when they leave school when I know they have a pair at home, that way I know they’ll have them the next morning.”
For Campbell, making the rules clear also helps. This year, the school’s board voted to make dental exams mandatory for students. Those without coverage will be seen at the adjoining health center. Their handbook also says that students who need glasses have to wear them. “We’re not afraid,” Campbell says, “to be grownups.”

The Apple Tree

A long time ago, there was a huge apple tree. A little boy loved to come and lay around it everyday. He climbed to the tree top, ate the apples, took a nap under the shadow... He loved the tree and the tree loved to play with him. Time went by... the little boy had grown up and he no longer played around the tree everyday. One day, the boy came back to the tree and he looked sad. "Come and play with me," the tree asked the boy. "I am no longer a kid, I don't play around trees anymore." The boy replied,"I want toys. I need money to buy them." "Sorry, but I don't have money...but you can pick all my apples and sell them. So, you will have money." The boy was so excited. He grabbed all the apples on the tree and left happily. The boy never came back after he picked the apples. The tree was sad.
One day, the boy returned and the tree was so excited. "Come and play with me" the tree said. "I don't have time to play. I have to work for my family. We need a house for shelter. Can you help me?" "Sorry, but I don't have a house. But you can chop off my branches to build your house." So the boy cut all the branches off the tree and left happily. The tree was glad to see him happy but the boy never came back since then. The tree was again lonely and sad.
One hot summer day, the boy returned and the tree was delighted. "Come and play with me!" the tree said. "I am sad and getting old. I want to go sailing to relax myself. Can you give me a boat?" "Use my trunk to build your boat. You can sail far away and be happy." So the boy cut the tree trunk to make a boat. He went sailing and never showed up for a long time. Finally, the boy returned after he left for so many years. "Sorry, my boy But I don't have anything for you anymore. No more apples for you..." the tree said."I don't have teeth to bite" the boy replied. "No more trunk for you to climb on" "I am too old for that now" the boy said. "I really can't give you anything ... the only thing left is my dying roots" the tree said with tears. "I don't need much now, just a place to rest. I am tired after all these years." The boy replied. "Good! Old tree roots is the best place to lean on and rest. Come, Come sit down with me and rest." The boy sat down and the tree was glad and smiled with tears.......
This is a story of everyone. The tree is our parent. When we were young, we loved to play with Mom and Dad... When we grown up, we left them, and only came to them when we need something or when we are in trouble. No matter what, parents will always be there and give everything they could to make you happy. You may think that the boy is cruel to the tree but that's how all of us are treating our parents.
Be honest with yourself by paying attention to your actions. Actions speak louder than words, and they always tell the truth. What do your actions say about you? If you say you love your job, but your actions say otherwise, which do you think is more true - your words or your actions? On the other hand, if you say you're not good at a certain job, but your actions say otherwise, that's also important. What do you do with this insight? You can use it to make more beneficial choices in your life. By being honest with yourself based on your previous actions, your actions moving forward will be based on truth instead of just what you tell yourself. 　Take time out during the day for quiet time to listen to your inner voice. I call this inner voice the voice of God. This is similar to point number one, but it takes it a step further - beyond the natural mind to the supernatural heart. You may want to use your quiet time to meditate or pray. However you use this time, the key is to shut out all of the noise around you by focusing deep within yourself. Breathing deeply during quiettime will also help you focus. I know it's hard to find quiet time during a particularly busy day, but it's so important - even if it's just 10 minutes a day and you have to sneak away to get it. Quiet time can really make a difference in your life. It enables you to hear God speaking to your heart reminding you of His perfect love for you. 　 Despite what your subconscious may be telling you, you can have love with no limits. The key is to unconditionally love yourself first.

A Happy Excursion

In the northern ocean there is a fish, called the k’un, I do not know how many thousand li in size. This k’un changes into a bird, called the p’eng. Its back is I do not know how many thousand li in breadth. When it is moved, it flies, its wings obscuring the sky like clouds. When on a voyage, this bird prepares to start for the Southern Ocean, the Celestial Lake. And in the Records of Marvels we read that when the p’eng flies southwards, the water is smitten for a space of three thousand li around, while the bird itself mounts upon a great wind to a height of ninety thousand li, for a flight of six months’ duration.
There mounting aloft, the bird saw the moving white mists of spring, the dust-clouds, and the living things blowing their breaths among them. It wondered whether the blue of the sky was its real color, or only the result of distance without end, and saw that the things on earth appeared the same to it.
If there is not sufficient depth, water will not float large ships. Upset a cupful into a hole in the yard, and a mustard-seed will be your boat. Try to float the cup, and it will be grounded, due to the disproportion between water and vessel.
So with air. If there is not sufficient a depth, it cannot support large wings. And for this bird, a depth of ninety thousand li is necessary to bear it up. Then, gliding upon the wind, with nothing save the clear sky above, and no obstacles in the way, it starts upon its journey to the south.
A cicada and a young dove laughed, saying, "Now, when I fly with all my might, ’tis as much as I can do to get from tree to tree. And sometimes I do not reach, but fall to the ground midway. What then can be the use of going up ninety thousand li to start for the south?"
He who goes to the countryside taking three meals with him comes back with his stomach as full as when he started. But he who travels a hundred li must take ground rice enough for an overnight stay. And he who travels a thousand li must supply himself with provisions for three months. Those two little creatures, what should they know?
Small knowledge has not the compass of great knowledge any more than a short year has the length of a long year. How can we tell that this is so? The fungus plant of a morning knows not the alternation of day and night. The cicada knows not the alternation of spring and autumn. Theirs are short years. But in the south of Ch’u there is a mingling (tree) whose spring and autumn are each of five hundred years’ duration. And in former days there was a large tree which had a spring and autumn each of eight thousand years. Yet, P’eng Tsu is known for reaching a great age and is still, alas! an object of envy to all!
It was on this very subject that the Emperor T’ang spoke to Chi, as follows: "At the north of Ch’iungta, there is a Dark Sea, the Celestial Lake. In it there is a fish several thousand li in breadth, and I know not how many in length. It is called the k’un. There is also a bird, called the p’eng, with a back like Mount T’ai, and wings like clouds across the sky. It soars up upon a whirlwind to a height of ninety thousand li, far above the region of the clouds, with only the clear sky above it. And then it directs its flight towards the Southern Ocean.
"And a lake sparrow laughed, and said: Pray, what may that creature be going to do? I rise but a few yards in the air and settle down again, after flying around among the reeds. That is as much as any one would want to fly. Now, wherever can this creature be going to?" Such, indeed, is the difference between small and great.
Take, for instance, a man who creditably fills some small office, or whose influence spreads over a village, or whose character pleases a certain prince. His opinion of himself will be much the same as that lake sparrow’s. The philosopher Yung of Sung would laugh at such a one. If the whole world flattered him, he would not be affected thereby, nor if the whole world blamed him would he be dissuaded from what he was doing. For Yung can distinguish between essence and superficialities, and understand what is true honor and shame. Such men are rare in their generation. But even he has not established himself.
Now Liehtse could ride upon the wind. Sailing happily in the cool breeze, he would go on for fifteen days before his return. Among mortals who attain happiness, such a man is rare. Yet although Liehtse could dispense with walking, he would still have to depend upon something.
As for one who is charioted upon the eternal fitness of Heaven and Earth, driving before him the changing elements as his team to roam through the realms of the Infinite, upon what, then, would such a one have need to depend? Thus it is said, "The perfect man ignores self; the divine man ignores achievement; the true Sage ignores reputation."
The Emperor Yao wished to abdicate in favor of Hsu: Yu, saying, "If, when the sun and moon are shining, the torch is still lighted, would it be not difficult for the latter to shine? If, when the rain has fallen, one should still continue to water the fields, would this not be a waste of labor? Now if you would assume the reins of government, the empire would be well governed, and yet I am filling this office. I am conscious of my own deficiencies, and I beg to offer you the Empire."
"You are ruling the Empire, and the Empire is already well ruled," replied Hsu: Yu. "Why should I take your place? Should I do this for the sake of a name? A name is but the shadow of reality, and should I trouble myself about the shadow? The tit, building its nest in the mighty forest, occupies but a single twig. The beaver slakes its thirst from the river, but drinks enough only to fill its belly. I would rather go back: I have no use for the empire! If the cook is unable to prepare the funeral sacrifices, the representative of the worshipped spirit and the officer of prayer may not step over the wines and meats and do it for him."
Chien Wu said to Lien Shu, "I heard Chieh Yu: talk on high and fine subjects endlessly. I was greatly startled at what he said, for his words seemed interminable as the Milky Way, but they are quite detached from our common human experience."
"What was it?" asked Lien Shu.
"He declared," replied Chien Wu, "that on the Miao-ku-yi mountain there lives a divine one, whose skin is white like ice or snow, whose grace and elegance are like those of a virgin, who eats no grain, but lives on air and dew, and who, riding on clouds with flying dragons for his team, roams beyond the limit’s of the mortal regions. When his spirit gravitates, he can ward off corruption from all things, and bring good crops. That is why I call it nonsense, and do not believe it."
"Well," answered Lien Shu, "you don’t ask a blind man’s opinion of beautiful designs, nor do you invite a deaf man to a concert. And blindness and deafness are not physical only. There is blindness and deafness of the mind. His words are like the unspoiled virgin. The good influence of such a man with such a character fills all creation. Yet because a paltry generation cries for reform, you would have him busy himself about the details of an empire!
"Objective existences cannot harm. In a flood which reached the sky, he would not be drowned. In a drought, though metals ran liquid and mountains were scorched up, he would not be hot. Out of his very dust and siftings you might fashion two such men as Yao and Shun. And you would have him occupy himself with objectives!"
A man of the Sung State carried some ceremonial caps to the Yu:eh tribes for sale. But the men of Yu:eh used to cut off their hair and paint their bodies, so that they had no use for such things.
The Emperor Yao ruled all under heaven and governed the affairs of the entire country. After he paid a visit to the four sages of the Miao-ku-yi Mountain, he felt on his return to his capital at Fenyang that the empire existed for him no more.
Hueitse said to Chuangtse, "The Prince of Wei gave me a seed of a large-sized kind of gourd. I planted it, and it bore a fruit as big as a five bushel measure. Now had I used this for holding liquids, it would have been too heavy to lift; and had I cut it in half for ladles, the ladles would have been too flat for such purpose. Certainly it was a huge thing, but I had no use for it and so broke it up."
"It was rather you did not know how to use large things," replied Chuangtse. "There was a man of Sung who had a recipe for salve for chapped hands, his family having been silk-washers for generations. A stranger who had heard of it came and offered him a hundred ounces of silver for this recipe; whereupon he called together his clansmen and said, ’We have never made much money by silk-washing. Now, we can sell the recipe for a hundred ounces in a single day. Let the stranger have it.’
"The stranger got the recipe, and went and had an interview with the Prince of Wu. The Yu:eh State was in trouble, and the Prince of Wu sent a general to fight a naval battle with Yu:eh at the beginning of winter. The latter was totally defeated, and the stranger was rewarded with a piece of the King’s territory. Thus, while the efficacy of the salve to cure chapped hands was in both cases the same, its applications were different. Here, it secured a title; there, the people remained silk-washers.
"Now as to your five-bushel gourd, why did you not make a float of it, and float about over river and lake? And you complain of its being too flat for holding things! I fear your mind is stuffy inside."
Hueitse said to Chuangtse, "I have a large tree, called the ailanthus. Its trunk is so irregular and knotty that it cannot be measured out for planks; while its branches are so twisted that they cannot be cut out into discs or squares. It stands by the roadside, but no carpenter will look at it. Your words are like that tree -- big and useless, of no concern to the world."
"Have you never seen a wild cat," rejoined Chuangtse, "crouching down in wait for its prey? Right and left and high and low, it springs about, until it gets caught in a trap or dies in a snare. On the other hand, there is the yak with its great huge body. It is big enough in all conscience, but it cannot catch mice. Now if you have a big tree and are at a loss what to do with it, why not plant it in the Village of Nowhere, in the great wilds, where you might loiter idly by its side, and lie down in blissful repose beneath its shade? There it would be safe from the axe and from all other injury. For being of no use to others, what could worry its mind?"