Math had never been something I was good at since middle school. Classes became harder in high school, and I was even further from a math teacher’s dream student. So at the start of my freshman year, I really loathed math. It wasn’t that I didn’t want to do well, but simply that I didn’t think I was able to do well. “I can’t” became my state of mind in all things about math.

However, I was soon to learn that “I can’t” was not a choice in Mr. A’s class.

Mr. A always greeted us with open arms as he said, “Welcome! Smile! It’s a great day to be alive!” It was clear that Mr. A had a true passion (热情) not only for math but for teaching. If Mr. A ever experienced bad days in life, he never showed it. Mr. A greeted us with that same smile every day. He encouraged each student, from the top achiever to the “T can’t” student.

I found myself looking forward to math class, although I still hated the subject itself. Being in Mr. A’s presence made me feel good, as if I had the chance to succeed. As the year progressed, I spent increasingly more time on my homework, and I met with Mr. A weekly. My classmates began to do the same, and it became “cool” to have lunch and talk with Mr. A. We didn’t know it at the time, but he was changing our attitudes.

Though my story is not one of overnight successes and I didn’t become a straight-A math student, my hard work did begin to pay off and my grades slowly began to climb. There were hard times, of course. Difficult math questions sometimes succeeded in bringing me down, but Mr. A kept reminding me, “Kate, smile! It’s a-great day to be alive!”

Kyle Cassidy and three other members of the Annenberg (Lunchtime) Running Group were relaxing on the grounds of the University of Pennsylvania, waiting for a few slower ones. The Penn co-workers and other community members meet three days a week for a 30-minute running and sometimes an informal lecture. That’s right — during some runs, one of them gives a talk with topics changing from the brain to Bitcoin. Not your normal exercise chatter.

Last Saturday, it would not be their normal run. Something unusual happened when a man ran quickly past them. “How fast!” Cassidy told the others admiringly. Then he discovered why the runner was running so quickly when another man ran by, shouting, “Help! Catch the thief ! He took my phone and laptop!”

At that time, the group did what running clubs do: They ran, following the man down the streets of Philadelphia until he quickly hid into a construction site (建筑工地). The runners began to go different ways. Cassidy ran around to the far side of the site to cut the man off while the others wandered around the neighborhood, hoping he had thrown away what he had stolen.

No luck. So they decided to ask the locals whether they’d seen the guy. When they knocked on the door of a house, they found the man had already come out from the construction site — and was hiding behind a bush by that very house. As the owner opened the door, the man ran out from behind the bush and right into the arms of a campus policeman, who had joined shortly behind the runners.

Running is usually a useless sport. But sometimes it can be useful, and here was one of those examples.

For years I wanted a flower garden. I’d spend hours thinking of different things I could plant that would look nice together. But then we had Matthew. And Marvin. And the twins, Alisa and Alan. And then Helen. Five children. I was too busy raising them to grow a garden.

Money was tight, as well as time. Often when my children were little, one of them would want something that cost too much, and I’d have to say, “Do you see a money tree outside? Money doesn’t grow on trees, you know.”

Finally, all five got through high school and college and were off on their own. I started thinking again about having a garden.

I wasn’t sure, though. I mean, gardens do cost money, and after all these years I was used to living on a pretty lean tight budget(财政紧张).

Then, one spring morning, on Mother’s Day, I was working in my kitchen. Suddenly, I realized that cars were tooting their horns(按喇叭) as they drove by. I looked out of the window and there was a new tree, planted right in my yard. I thought it must be a weeping willow(垂柳), because I saw things blowing around on all its branches. Then I put my glasses on—and I couldn’t believe what I saw. There was a money tree in my yard!

I went outside to look. It was true! There were dollar bills, one hundred of them, taped all over that tree. Think of all the garden flowers I could buy with one hundred dollars! There was also a note attached: “I owe you eight hours of digging time. Love, Marvin.”

Marvin, my first son, kept his promise. He dug up a nice ten-by-fifteen-foot bed(花坛，花圃) for me. My other children bought me tools, a sunflower stepping stone(踏脚石) and gardening books. We built a garden together.

That was three years ago. My garden’s now very pretty, just like what I wanted. When I go out and weed or tend my flowers, I don’t seem to miss my children as much as I once did. It feels like they’re right there with me. When I think about what my children have done for me, I get tears in my eyes every time. I’m still not sure whether money grows on trees. But I know love does!