It is natural that young people are often uncomfortable(不自在) when they are with their parents. They say that their parents don’t understand them. They often think that their parents are out of touch with modern ways; that they are too serious and too strict with their children; and that they seldom give their children a free hand.

It is true that parents often find it difficult to win their children’s trust and they tend to forget how they themselves felt when young. They show that they have grown up and they can face any difficult situation. Older people worry more easily. Most of them plan things ahead, at least in the back of their minds, and do not like their plans to be upset(扰乱) by something unexpected.

When you want your parents to let you do something, you will have better success if you ask before you really start doing it.

Young people often make their parents angry with their choices in clothes, in entertainment and in music. But they do not mean to cause any trouble; it is just that they feel cut off from the older people’s world, into which they have not yet been accepted. That’s why young people want to make a new culture(文化) of their own. And if their parents do not like their music or entertainment or clothes or their way of speech, this will make the young people extremely happy.

Sometimes you are so proud of yourself that you do not want your parents to say “yes” to what you do. All you want is to be left alone and do what you like. It is natural enough, after being a child for so many years, when you were completely under your parents’ control.

If you plan to control your life, you’d better win your parents over and try to get them to understand you. If your parents see that you have a high sense of responsibility(责任), they will certainly give you the right to do what you want to do.

The inside story of how a “band of misfits” saved Lego

When executives at toymaker Lego first learned that adults were buying large quantities of their interlocking plastic bricks and getting together to build Lego creations of their own, “they thought it was very strange,” says Paal Smith-Meyer.

【小题1】 “Leadership actually thought ‘adults’ were taking away from the brand.”

Thanks to a handful of employees who worked to change attitudes inside the company, Lego is no longer embarrassed by its adult fans. 【小题2】 The bygone slogans “Just Imagine... ” and “Play On” have been overshadowed by Lego’s newest marketing motto: “Adults Welcome”. Even superstar athletes and entertainers like Ed Sheeran, Dwight Howard, and David Beckham boast openly about their affection for Lego building sets.

Today Lego is the world’s largest and most profitable toymaker. The Lego brick was named “Toy of the Century” in 1999, and in 2014 Time magazine crowned it the “Most Influential Toy of All Time”, ahead of Barbie, G.I. Joe, and the Easy Bake Oven.

The enthusiasm and buying power of Adult Fans of Lego — or AFOLs, as they’re known in the industry — played a major role in the company’s rise to the top. 【小题3】

Lego founder Ole Kirk Kristiansen always knew he wanted to market his products exclusively to kids. As the company grew over its first six decades, few imagined that its products could appeal as much to adults as to children. 【小题4】 Two decades ago, when Lego began making licensed sets inspired by hit movies like Star Wars and Harry Potter, it was adult fans who snatched up most of the merchandise.

Despite the benefits AFOLs brought to the brand, executives at the company’s corporate offices in Billund, Denmark had little interest in catering to adult customers. As fan mail and product ideas poured in from AFOLs around the world, the company posted its off-putting position: “We don’t accept unsolicited ideas.”

“Adult fans were often seen as a source of irritation,” says Jake McKee, a Lego executive from 2000 to 2006 who oversaw the company’s Global Community Development team.

I am a parent of a disabled teenager. My son is in and out of hospital and school. His learning disabilities and behaviour issues are a barrier for him, and he is teased on campus. At home, he swears and punches me.

He is on a waiting list for his disorder which contributes to his anxiety. Meanwhile, there are hospital appointments to manage, at least four consultants on the go, and an imminent transfer to adult services. The bureaucracy of caring keeps me busy.

I used to work in the theatre industry but had to quit when my son kept getting excluded from school. I never expected that my life would turn out like this. But now, amazingly, I am doing a PhD at a Russell Group university，looking at non­white protagonists in historical drama. It is fascinating: under­represented characters!Hidden histories! Diversity!

I am starting to win awards for my research and I feel like a success story. Almost. There's just one problem: I can't get funding. I keep missing out on studentships and scholarships. These awards—which are mainly funded by research councils or universities directly—are worth about ￡14，000－￡16，000 a year and usually include a fee waiver (saving a further ￡5，000). That's a lot of money.

But the funding tends to go to students half my age with straight­A academic results—not to people like me, who have taken an unusual path to academia. When I was turned down for the last studentship I applied for, I asked why. The decision maker—a professor in my department and the head of a research institute—told me “it all comes down to excellent academic results”．

They don't say this on the application forms: it's all about the originality of your project, your research statement, your supervisor's supporting statement, the panel that considers you, the level of competition. But when it comes down to it, this is clearly what they want. Someone with my background is never going to get a studentship if the decisive criteria are undergraduate and master's results.

When I started my PhD and realised that I would need financial help, I went to the student advice office and told them that I am a carer. They asked what that meant and then offered me advice on benefits, but not funding. I went to the student union advice service—they referred me back to student advice. I went to the graduate school. Same response. I spoke to a vice dean and a chaplain. I had to tell them what a carer is. You get the picture. I was invisible. So I gave up, decided to apply annually for the studentships and kept my part­time job.

UCAS announced this year that young carers will now be able to identify themselves in their applications, so that universities will be able to support them. But how is this going to happen if staff at these institutions don't even know what a carer is?

The student welfare vice­president at the union has finally agreed with me that carers are an under­supported and under­represented group on campus. We are going to ask student records to add an option to the equality and diversity monitoring section, so that we can identify as carers and hopefully raise awareness. Wish us luck.