When I was in the eighth grade, my class was assigned(指派)to be friends with the second-grade kids. I got this little girl named Shelley. The first time I saw her, she was silent and cold. She was small for her age, and she didn't play with the other kids in her class.
I tried all kinds of things to get her to talk to me. I bought her toys, crayons and candies. But try as I might, nothing worked. One time, I gave her a coloring book and said, "Shelley, now you can color in it any time." Shelley looked at the coloring book and then looked up at me, and finally looked away. By that, I didn't know how I was going to get the little girl to accept me, but I knew I wouldn't give up on her.
One Friday, I decided to tell her a story about my childhood. I told her that 1 felt lonely when I was with my classmates, and how I thought only my teachers liked me. I also told her that every day was a battle(战役) for me and I fought back tears so people wouldn't know how much I was hurting. She sat there just listening, trying to decide whether I was lying or not. Finally, when my story ended, there were tears in her eyes. She said, "Thank you." From then on, Shelley was a different little girl. She started smiling and talking with other kids.
Looking back at this I'm in awe (惊叹), because all I did was to help her realize that she wasn't alone. I didn't ask her to tell her story, because her story is my story.
