I didn't cry when I learned I was the parent of a disabled (残疾的）child.
"Go ahead and cry," the doctor a kindly, but I couldn't cry then, nor during the days that followed.
When Jenny was old enough, I sent her to a kindergarten. On the first morning, Jenny spent hours playing by herself. It seemed that she felt very l.
However, to my joy, Jenny's classmates always encouraged, her, ‘you got all your spelling words right today!" In fact her spelling list was the e Late she faced a very painful problem—at the end of the term, there was a game which had something to do with physical education. But Jenny was way behind in it:
My husband and I were anxious (忧虑）about the day. I wanted to keep her home. Why let Jenny fail in a gymnasium filled with parents, students and teachers? But my heart wouldn't let me off that easily. So I pushed a pale, unwilling Jenny onto the school bus.
At the kindergarten, I was quite worried because of her s action. Jenny would probably hold up (阻碍）her team. The game went on well until it was time for the sack (麻袋）race. Surely Jenny would find it difficult. Now each child had to climb into a sack, jump to the finishing line, return and climb out of the sack. I noticed Jenny standing near the end of her line of players
But as it was her turn to join, a c took place in her team. The tallest boy behind Jenny placed his hands on her waist (腰). Two other boys stood ahead of her. The moment the player before Jenny stepped out from the sack, those two boys picked up the sack quickly and held it open while the tall boy lifted Jenny and dropped her into it. A girl in front of Jenny took her hand and supported her until Jenny gained her balance. Then she j forward, smiling and proud.
In the cheers of teachers, schoolmates and parents, I silently thanked Heaven for the warm, understanding people in life who make it p for my disabled daughter to be like her fellow human beings. Then I finally cried.
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