Last Friday, as I was getting home from school, I heard of the music of a garbage truck in my neighborhood. My mother once reminded me to taking out the garbage when the truck came. Known that the truck would leave soon, I hurried home, picked up the garbage bag, and ran out. Fortunate, I caught the truck but managed to throw the bag into it. To my surprised, however, I threw away my school bag instead. I decided to run after the truck but fail to catch it. Then I had to make the phone call to the Environmental Department. The next day, a man sent to help me to get my bag back. After about two hours, we found them at last.

That I was in the second grade, my mother would frequently send me there to the little neighborhood store. One day I went there with a list, and when the storekeeper's back turned, I couldn't help reach into his candy box on the counter and pocketing one. On the way home, I enjoyed them very much. But over the years, I felt guilt about it so much. Therefore when I   spotted the old storekeeper at the football game during my high school years, I apologized at him. He smiled, holding out his hand, and said, "You owe me ten cent."

It was Monday morning, and the writing class had just begin. Everyone was silent, wait to see who would be call upon to read his or her paragraph aloud. Some of us were confidence and eager take part in the class activity; others were nervous and anxious. I had done myself homework, but I was shy. I was afraid that to speak in front of a large group of people. At that moment, I remembered that my father once said, “The classroom is a place for learning and that include learning from textbooks, and mistake as well.” Immediate, I raised my hand.