This is a story which I've told every February ever since I started my teaching in 1999. It was a tale about1and heartbreak.
In the sixth grade, I fell2in love with a tall, cute but naughty boy, who wasn't3me actually. However, to my great surprise, I received one4card from him just on Valentine's Day.
With shaking hands, I5open the envelope and6a sparkly (闪耀的) image of a queen seated on her throne (宝座). So7was I that I almost couldn't8myself. Then, my eyes traveled up to the writing above his signature which read: "To the9girl in our class." I could still remember how embarrassed I was with my eyes full of tears, my nose stinging and my cheek10. It shook what little11I have in myself for a long time. From that day on, Valentine's Day, to me, meant nothing but12and cruelty. Fortunately, I13all those.
Every February, I would also14to my students the reason why we should15a party on this day is that we are expected to express thanks to people around16cruelty. The night before the party, I usually cut the pink paper into hundreds of small squares and handed out construction paper,17they can write whatever they want to18their classmates.
Looking on as they compose each message is always a(n)19. But the real fun comes when they read what people wrote to them. Watching a shy boy20open a card and then break into a big smile is worth all of the trouble.
