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 through to the little girl, 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 l 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. And then she did the unthinkable. 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.
