Everyone is making the best efforts and sometimes a few kind words of encouragement can aid people realizing that their effort is not useless. It happened when I was in the fifth standard in my school, back when I was a very shy girl.

It happened on the day when there was a drawing competition at my school. The theme is given to us all was the fight of “Kargil”. So we all started brainstorming to get some creative ideas. Everyone started drawing something on their canvas (画布) and I was still busy trying to think of something which can bring out my thought and emotions. While doing this I was kind of lost in another world. When my science teacher called my name, it brought me back to my senses. I responded to her voice which was coming from the back. She came to me and encouraged me by saying that “do not think too much over it, just put whatever comes in your mind on canvas. And do your best, you will do well”. I listened to her words of wisdom and started my painting.

The next day, the names of the winners of the competition were announced in front of the whole school. I heard my name as the 1st runner-up and winning the second prize. It was an astonishment for me as I never even dreamed to even get any prize.

Later, I thanked my science teacher for her words of encouragement and showing her confidence in me. Overall, that day, I became aware of my talent and I tried making more paintings whenever I got free time. Sometimes I think that if not for her words of encouragement I would have never acknowledged the talent I had.

That summer, I went to a small and rather remote village of Manitoba’s as a substitute for a sick teacher. It was a very poor village with a few humble wooden houses. There was nothing but the spruce around me. Could I leave a deep impression on the children in just a month? Is a month really worth the effort? I was really doubtful about these two questions.

Maybe the children had the same ideas, because I had never seen so depressing, sad, and even bitter facial expressions. I had little experience in teaching, and my age was like that of those children.

Most of them had thin eyes, dark skin, and shiny black hair, which indicated they were mixed blood children of French and Indian.

At nine o’ clock, the classroom was already as hot as a stove. I didn’t know where I should start. Then I called from a list of names, expecting the response. They stood up, and gave me the reply. However, when Yolanda was called, there was no response …Still no response …About 15 seconds later, a voice came from the back of the classroom with the buzzing of flies. “She’s dead. She died last night.”

The tone of the child’ s voice was astonishing but plain, and perhaps nothing could be more painful than to narrate in that tone. “Ah!” I cried out, not knowing what to say. The children and I looked at each other for a long time and we were silent. I understood that what I had seen from the children’s eyes and faces, which I had thought was the expression of indifference, turned out to be a great pain.

“Since Yolanda was your classmate, would you like to see her at four o’ clock after school?” There was a smile on the children’s serious little faces. It was a smile, though formal and sad.

After four o'clock, I saw that many children were waiting for me at the school gate. There were more than 20 children in total. Some of them walked in front to guide me. The others held me tightly, which almost made me unable to walk. Five or six younger children took my hand and gently led me forward, just like leading a blind guy. I unconsciously remembered those names, and they are still fresh in my memory, including Yolanda.

Barditch High School decided to have an All-School Reunion. Over 450 people came to the event There were tours of the old school building and a picnic at Confederate Park. Several former teachers were on hand to tell stories about the old days. Ms. Mabel Yates, the English teacher for over fifty years, was wheeled to the Park.

Some eyes rolled and there were a few low groans(叹息声) when Ms. Yates was about to speak. Many started looking at their watches and coming up with excuses to be anywhere instead of preparing to listen to a lecture from an old woman who had few kind words for her students and made them work harder than all the other teachers combined.

Then Ms. Yates started to speak: “I can’t tell you how pleased I am to be here. I haven’t seen many of you since your graduation, but I have followed your careers and enjoyed your victories as well as crying for your tragedies. I have a large collection of newspaper photographs of my students. Although I haven’t appeared in person, I have attended your college graduations, weddings and even the births of your children, in my imagination.”

Ms. Yates paused and started crying a bit. Then she continued: “It was my belief that if I pushed you as hard as I could, some of you would succeed to please me and others would succeed to annoy me. Regardless of our motives, I can see that you have all been successful in your chosen path.”

“There is no greater comfort for an educator than to see the end result of his or her years of work. You have all been a great source of pleasure and pride for me and I want you to know I love you all from the bottom of my heart.”

There was a silence over the crowd for a few seconds and then someone started clapping. The clapping turned into cheering, then into a deafening roar(呼喊). Lawyers, truck drivers, bankers and models were rubbing their eyes or crying openly with no shame all because of the words from a long forgotten English teacher from their hometown.