The summer before I went off to college, Mom stood me in her usual spot behind the ironing board (烫衣板)and said, “Pay attention: I'm going to teach you to iron.”
Mom clearly explained her1for this lesson. I was going to be2and needed to learn this vital skill. Also, I would be meeting new people, and properly ironed clothes would help me make a good3 .
“Learn to iron a shirt,” Mom said, “and you can iron anything.”
But ironing shirts was not4work. It didn't make use of long muscles we used to throw a baseball，and it wasn't a5operation like ice-skating. Ironing was like driving a car on a street that has a stop sign every 10 feet, Moreover, an iron produced steam and it carried an element of6.If you touched the wrong part of it, you'd get burnt. If you forgot to turn it off when you 7,you might bum down the house.
As for technique, Mom8me to begin with the flat spaces outward, always pushing the iron forward into wrinkled (有褶皱的）parts. Collars had to be done right. Mom said they were close to your face, where everyone would9them.
Over the years, I've learned to iron shirts skillfully, which gives me a sense of 10Whatever failures I suffer in my life, an ironed shirt tells me I am good at something. 11,through ironing I've learned the method for solving even the most troublesome problems. “12wrinkles one at a time,” as Mom might have said, “and before long everything will get ironed out.”
