For hundreds of years, women in Myanmar’s Kayah area have worn bronze rings around their necks and other parts of their body. The rings are a traditional symbol of beauty. They also extend the necks of the women, making them very long.

But now, younger Kayan women are turning away from the tradition of their ancestors, Mu Tu is one of the few women who knows how to make the traditional rings and put them on.

83-year-old Maria Khaing has been wearing rings on her neck, wrists and knees since she was eight years old. Maria never removes the rings, even when cooking, eating or working. Wearing neck rings was once expected of all Kayan women. But more and more have started to shun the practice. Maria’s granddaughter, 20-year-old Za Oo, is among those who have not followed the tradition. “They’re heavy and uncomfortable. Also I don’t know much about them. That’s why I don’t wear them,” she said.

The rings make the women’s necks very long. But they also press down on the bones around the shoulders. Wearing the rings can also cause discomfort when swallowing. Even Mu Tu admits that safety is a concern. “If you don’t make the rings correctly, someone can choke (窒息).” she said.

Whether safety or changing fashion, many young Kayah women are turning their backs on the tradition. Experts say there are now fewer than 100 long-necked women in Myanmar, down from about 300 in the 1990s. Some people wonder, however, if tourists will still come to buy goods in Kayah when the long-necked women are gone.

It turned out there were a lot of things I had yet to learn about life,or at least life on the Princeton campus in the early 1980s.After I spent several energizing weeks as a summer student,surrounded by a few dozen other kids who seemed both accessible and familiar to me,the fall semester officially began, opening the floodgates to the student population at large.I moved my belongings into a new dorm room,a one-room triple in Pyne Hall,and then watched through my third-floor window as several thousand mostly white students poured onto campus,carting stereos and duvet sets and lots of clothes.Some kids arrived in limos(豪华轿车)One girl brought two limos to accommodate all her stuff.

Princeton was extremely white and very male.There was no avoiding the facts . Men on campus outnumbered women almost two to one Black students made up less than 9 percent of my freshman class.It during the orientation program we’d begun to feel some ownership of the space,we were now glaring anomaly(异类)－poppy seeds in a bowl of rice.While Whitney Young had been somewhat diverse,I’d never been part of a predominantly white community before.I’d never stood out in a crowd or a classroom because of the color of my skin.It was jarring and uncomfortable,at least at first,like being dropped into a strange new terrarium,a habitat that hadn’t been built for me.

As with anything,though,you learn to adapt.Some of the adjustment was easy-a relief almost.For one thing,nobody seemed much concerned about crime.Students left their rooms unlocked,their bikes casually kickstanded outside buildings,their gold earrings unattended on the sink in the dorm bathrooms.Their trust in the world seemed infinite,their forward progress in it entirely assured.For me,it was something to get used to. I’d spent years quietly guarding my possessions on the bus ride to and from Whitney Young.Walking home to Euclid Avenue in the evenings,I carried my house key placed between two fingers and pointed outward,in case I needed it to defend myself.

At Princeton,it seemed the only thing I needed to be careful about was my studies.Everything otherwise was designed to accommodate our well-being as students.The dining halls served five different kinds of breakfast.There were enormous spreading oak trees to sit under and open lawns where we could throw Frisbees to relieve our stress.The main library was like an old-world cathedral,with high ceilings and glossy hardwood tables where we could lay out our textbooks and study in silence.We were protected,cocooned,catered to.A lot of kids,I was coming to realize,had never in their lifetimes known anything different.

Attached to all of this was a new vocabulary, one needed to master.What was a precept?What was a reading period?Nobody had explained to me the meaning of”extra-long”bedsheets on the school packing list. which meant that I bought myself too-short bedsheets and would thus spend my freshman year sleeping with my feet resting on the exposed plastic of the dorm mattress.There was an especially distinct learning curve when it came to understanding sports.I’d been raised on the bedrock of football,basketball,and baseball,but it turned out that East Coast prep schoolers did more.Lacrosse was a hing.Field hockey was a thing.Squash,even,was a thing.For a kid from the South Side,it could be a little dizzying.”You row crew?”What does that even mean?

When Spencer West was just five years old, he had a serious disease that resulted in the amputation（截肢）of both his legs. However,   the young Canadian has never let his disability get in his way. He has shown that he could do anything a person with two legs could do, including climbing the world’s highest snow­covered mountain—Mt. Kilimanjaro!

Spencer’s great adventure to get to the top of the 19,341­foot­high peak began on June 13th from the small village of Naro Moru in Kenya. The team included his best friends David Johnson and Alex Meers.

For the first few days, Spencer walked 80 percent of the rocky road using his hands. Only when it became impossible would he use the wheel chair. As would be expected, the nights were very terrible—The ground underneath was rocky and the temperatures were lower than they expected.

Hard as it was, Spencer did not surrender the goal even once. However,   as the road started becoming steeper（陡峭的） and rockier, his friends became worried   about him—Even though

Spencer had spent over a year training for this event with his hands, they worried that he would have some serious injuries if he continued. They decided that in the last two days Spencer West would cut back his independent climb to half day and be carried the other half.

Things got more and more difficult as they got closer to the top. As the air got thinner, they suffered from sickness and the shortage of energy so that they stopped any talk—They   needed all their energy to keep going. The only thought in their minds was to get to the top.

But, it was all worth it—Finally, Spencer West climbed Africa’s highest peak!