Every Saturday, Bibi hung out at her grandma’s laundry and dry-cleaning store while her mother went to work. Bibi loved being with her grandma, but she wanted to do more than just draw and read.

“How about I give you a hand with the chores?” Bibi offered.

“But you are too small. Why don’t you draw for a little while?” Grandma suggested, “You’re such a good artist.”

“But I want to help you.” Bibi sighed.

Bibi was too short to reach the tall rod that held the fresh clothes in neat alphabetical order. Grandma didn’t want her handling the hot presser or the iron. She could slide the   stiff cardboard into the starched (浆洗过的) shirts, but that was about it. “Why don’t you draw a picture of more customers coming in?” Grandma joked. “Maybe that would help!”

Bibi went outside. It was a crisp fall day. The last leaves were starting their lazy drift to the ground. She spotted her neighbour, Stephanie, across the street. Stephanie was painting big letters on the window of the hardware store. “Stephanie! You are going to get in trouble.” Stephanie laughed. “The high-school cheer-leading team is painting windows for our homecoming football game next weekend. Some of the shop owners said we could.”

“Does that paint wash off?” Bibi asked. “Yep. It’s just cornflour, soap, and food coloring,” said Stephanie. Bibi saw other kids from the high school painting designs on window up and down the street. GO, TIGERS said the window of the nail salon in huge letter. HEAR US ROAR! said the window of the coffee shop. “I can help you!” Bibi called to Stephanie, her heart pounding. “I can draw!” “Sorry, Bibs,” Stephanie said. “I’m out of paint, and I have to get home. Thank you, though!”

Bibi was so disappointed. She stared at Grandma’s windows. They were bare.

Seven-year-old Maggie was a grade-one pupil. She often spent her free time socializing with the seniors at a local retirement facility. In general, she would talk about puzzles, ice cream bars, and everything under the sun with the seniors. But most particularly, Maggie read to them, which she called her sweet mission. Once or twice a week, the little girl put a few books in her backpack and got ready to visit the elderly at the facility.

This sweet mission began on a snowy day. Maggie’s mom, Tiffany Kuznia, worked at the retirement facility and often brought her daughter with her to work. As little Maggie was packing her bag, Kuznia reminded her to bring her Nintendo Switch so she would not get bored. Maggie quickly replied that she had different plans for the day. “I’m going to bring books and I’m going to read to the residents ,” she declared.

On arrival, the girl knocked on every door of the facility to offer her services. That day, she made a good start. Patti Griggs, a retired elementary school teacher, was astonished by her reading talent. “She’s such a good little reader. I taught first-grade kids how to read. There were very few children who could come in and read like that,” said Griggs.

With time, Maggie became so beloved among the residents that she even had “regulars” she read to every week. She often visited each one for over an hour. Her mom checked on her regularly to make sure she wasn’t overstaying her welcome. Much to Maggie’s delight , the residents were more than happy to have her with them for an extended period of time. They were always ready to help her out when she struggled with new words. Such hiccups (小问题) happened less and less and Maggie grew more confident of reading aloud.

Two months later, Maggie realized that her companions had different hobbies and interests. And their educational levels varied from person to person. It was high time that she should make some changes.

When I was in middle school, I became blind. Suddenly thrown into a world of darkness. I was troubled by frustration and self-pity. Depression consumed me and I was frightened to try anything challenging.

Imagine my surprise when my teacher asked me to enter a speaking contest. I rejected it out of hand. Among so many students, why did she pick me? I was an average student. blind and plain-looking. Anyhow. she insisted that I go for it. Her reply:“Because I believe you can deliver a good speech. You are more capable than you imagine!” Encouraged by her words,1agreed to give it a shot

I decided on a fictional mole (鼹鼠) as my topic. It was a cute creature with poor eyesight mostly living underground, digging holes and helping get rid of pests. Not a brilliant idea, but unique; and undoubtedly a relatable tale.

What did the mole think, as he fought his way in the darkness? Would he get scared? Have second thoughts? Want to quit? It struck a chord immediately. I got exhausted from preparing the speech. I had doubts about my choice. I wanted to escape from reality. But, like the blind mole. I kept it up. I doubled my efforts. I checked out books from the school library. I referred to some great speeches. I turned to my father for guidance.

A week before the competition, I presented my speech to my teacher. She smiled, saying “Good. Now, polish your writing and practice your delivery.” I couldn’t remember how many times I made adjustments to my writing. Nor could I recall how I practiced it over and over again, with mixed feelings. “Could my message get across to the audience?” “How would they react?” Tons of questions crowded into my mind.

The big day finally arrived

I went up to my teacher after the award ceremony.