pt and be nurtured by this new Mildred； who still maintains the essence of my mother。 My knowledge of my mother is in my very skin； as is her knowledge of me。 Not even Alzheimer’s can take that away。
食袜蚁（1）
埃玛丽·里尼克
“哎哟！哎哟！”我大声地尖叫着，打乱了跳绳的节奏，脚也被松下来的绳子缠住了。
“鞋里有东西在不停地咬我。”我哭叫着说。
等待跳绳的一年级学生和两个摇绳的人马上将我围在了脏兮兮的操场上。我的老师——贝尔小姐听到我的叫声后，与几个正在休息的老师停止了谈话，匆忙地跑了过来。
“它还在咬我。”我叫道。围观的人让开了一条道，以便能让贝尔小姐进来。
“哪只脚？”她问道。
她俯下身来准备给我检查一下，我抬起了右脚。正当这个时候，我又感到一次新的叮咬，痛得我又一次叫了起来。
“好了，让我们把你的鞋子脱下来。” 贝尔小姐说着，便蹲下身子来脱我的鞋子。
这让我想起了袜子上的破洞。福利袜子穿不了多长时间。大萧条过后的几年里，带有破洞的袜子对我们家而言再普通不过了。每周六，我们都会把干净的纸塞到鞋子里，以此来盖住鞋底的破洞，然而袜子有破洞只好将就着。将袜子往下拉一拉，把破洞口盖住，就不会有人发现了。但是，一旦袜子上有了破洞，脚很快就会起泡。妈妈在每个星期洗衣服时都会说：“虽然我们很穷，衣服破旧不堪，但是我们依然能够穿得干净整洁。”
脚部疼痛难忍，我哭了起来，然而我还是不让贝尔小姐脱掉我的鞋子。我实在不想让她和其他人看到我褪了色的红袜子上的破洞。
“那么，走吧，我们到办公室去。”
一群一年级的孩子跟在我们身后，然而贝尔小姐让他们留在操场上。
我竭尽全力不让泪水流出来，然而每次鞋里的东西叮我的时候，我都会疼得“嗷嗷”叫。眼泪在我痛得扭曲的脸上无声无息地落下。
校长司徒亚特先生也冲进了办公室。
“发生了什么事情？”他问道。
“有东西正在咬她的右脚，然而她又不肯让我把她的鞋子脱下来看一看。”贝尔老师答道。
司徒亚特校长一把把我抱到他的桌子上。“让我看看。”正当他要把我的鞋子脱掉时，我看到了那个破洞。我一把抢过鞋子，迅速穿好，抱住它再也不撒手了。我抱得越紧，那个东西就咬得越厉害。
“为什么你不肯让我们给你脱鞋呢？”校长满脸疑惑地看看我，又转到贝尔小姐身上，最后又看了看我。
正在这时，五年级的老师瓦门菠小姐进来了。“我能帮上什么忙吗？我认识她，她就住在我家的隔壁。”
“我觉得有蚂蚁在她的鞋子里狠咬她，可是她就是不肯让我们把她的鞋子脱掉。”贝尔小姐说。
瓦门菠小姐是一个非常棒的邻居。她有时甚至还和我们一块玩游戏。她双手放在我发抖的肩上，满怀关切地望着我紧张而发红的眼睛。
“噢，是的。”她仿佛记起了什么似的，“我就曾经被那些蚂蚁咬过。你知不知道它们就是‘食袜蚁’呀？在我脱下袜子时，它们已经把袜子的底部几乎全咬光了。”她看着旁边两个大人，不住地点头。“一定是‘食袜蚁’。”她说。
两个大人也点着头，就像他们也曾被“食袜蚁”咬过似的。
“让我来看一看。”说着，她松开了我的鞋。“果然不出我所料，蚂蚁已经把她的一部分袜子吃掉了。”
贝尔小姐打开药品柜，从里面取出一个棉球，蘸了些酒精。瓦门菠小姐把我的鞋和袜子脱掉，放到垃圾桶上抖了起来。两只红色的蚂蚁掉进了垃圾桶，还有一只则掉在了地上，向墙边跑去，然而司徒亚特校长一脚踩住了它。
我的脚已经变肿了，不停地颤抖。这时，胃和头也疼了起来。
瓦门菠小姐一边用棉球擦拭着被蚂蚁咬得红肿的伤口，一边微笑地看着我，“我想，她现在已经没事了。”她边说边望了望身旁的两个大人。
此时，铃声响了，休息时间也宣告结束。“上课时间到了。”话音刚落，校长和贝尔小姐便朝各自的工作岗位奔去。
食袜蚁（2）
伤口处的酒精凉飕飕的。
“让蚂蚁咬了那么长时间，你可真是个勇敢的姑娘。我觉得你还是过一会儿再穿袜子和鞋吧。”老师把我从桌子上扶下来。“放学后，等我一起回家吧。”
自尊就是如此美好而可怕的一件事。我知道瓦门菠小姐为了挽救我的自尊，才编造了那个“食袜蚁”的故事。她明白，我宁可被蚂蚁咬死，也不愿别人知道我的贫困。这位心地善良、有着深刻见解的老师让我懂得要有一颗同情之心。我也尝试着将这颗同情之心带到自己37年的教学生涯中，并将它很好地传递了下去。
有人说“教师是灵魂的工程师”，其实不仅如此，教师有着一颗同情之心，是我们的依靠，正如本文的教师一样，巧妙地化解了学生的尴尬。让我们将这颗同情之心世代相传吧！
Ant Bites
Emmarie Lehnick
“Ow！Ow！” I shouted as I broke my jump rope rhythm and tangled my feet in the slack1 rope．“Something in my shoe is biting me。” I wailed。
The first graders waiting to jump and the two rope turners circled around me on the dirt playground。 My teacher； Miss Bell； heard me and hurried over； leaving the other recess teacher in mid…conversation。
“It’s still stinging me。” I cried as the circle of children opened for Miss Bell。
“Which foot is it？” she asked。
I stuck up my right foot as she stooped over to inspect2 it。 Just then； feeling a new sting； I yelped in pain。
“Here。 Let’s take off your shoe。” instructed Miss Bell； squatting down to get the shoe。
Then； I remembered the holes in my socks。 Welfare socks didn’t last long。 Holes in socks were a mon thing for our family in the years following the Great Depression。 Shoes got fresh paper inserted every Saturday to cover the holes in their soles。 But socks with holes were just accepted。 Socks with holes in the heels got pulled down so the hole wouldn’t show。 Where there was a hole； there would soon be a blister。 Every week as she washed our clothes； Mama would say；“Even if we’re poor and our clothes are worn out。 we can still be clean。 ”
I began to cry from the pain in my foot； but I refused to let Miss Bell take off my shoe。 I could not bear for her and the others to see the hole in my faded red sock。 “e on； then。 Let’s go inside to the office。”
A trail of first graders followed after us until Miss Bell told them to stay on the playground。 I did my best to curb my tears。 Yet； each time the thing in my shoe stung me； I would let out a loud； “Oh； oh； oh！” Tears raced down my contorted3 face。
Mr。 Stewart； the principal； rushed into his office。
“What’s wrong？” he asked。
“Something is stinging her right foot； but she will not let me take off her shoe。 ”said Miss Bell。
Mr。 Stewart lifted me onto his desk。 “Let me take a look。” He just about had the shoe off when I saw the hole。 I grabbed the shoe and pulled it on and held it。 The stinging worsened the tighter I clasped4 the shoe。
“Why won’t you let us take off your shoe？” Mr。 Stewart asked as he looked from me to Miss BelI and back at me in puzzlement。 。。
食袜蚁（3）
Miss Womble； the fifth—grade teacher； came into the office。 “Can I help？ I know her；she lives next door to me。 ”
“I suspect ants are in her shoes and stinging the living daylights out of her； but she won’t let us take off her shoes。” related Miss Bell。
Miss Womble was a great neighbor。 She had even played Annie—over with us on occasion。 She put both hands on my shaking shoulders and looked into my distressed； red eyes。
“Oh； yes；” she said； as if remembering a fact。“I had a bite from one of those ants。 Did you know they are sock eaters？ By the time I got my shoe off； that ant had eaten almost the entire bottom off my sock。” She nodded her head up and down as she looked at the other two adults。 “Must be sock…eater ants。”
They returned the nod； as if they； too； had been bitten by sock…eating ants。
“Let me see here。” She freed my heel from the shoe。 “Just what I thought。 Those sock ants have eaten part of her sock。”
Miss Bell opened the medicine cabinet； got a cotton ball； and saturated it with alcohol。 Miss Womble slipped off my shoe and sock and shook both of them over the gray trash bucket。 Two red ants fell into the waiting container。 A stray one ran for the wall； but Mr。 Stewart’s shoe stopped him。
My swollen foot throbbed5。 My stomach hurt。 My head ached。
Stroking the alcohol ball across the angry bites； Miss Womble lifted her head and smiled at me。 “I think she’s going to be okay now；” she said； as she glanced toward the two adults。
The bell rang； ending the recess period。 “It’s class time。” Mr。 Stewart remarked； as he and Miss Belt hurried to their duties。
The alcohol felt cool on the savage welts。
“You were a pretty brave girl to take that many bites。 I think you should leave this shoe and sock off for a while。” She helped me off the desk。“Wait for me after school； and we’ll walk home together。”
Pride can be a wonderful； terrible thing。 I knew that Miss Womble had saved my pride with her sock…eating ant story。 She had seen that I would rather be stung to death than to let others see my poverty。 This kind； insightful teacher had taught me a lesson of passion that I have tried to apply in my thirty…seven years of teaching。
无声的爱
佚名
他们相爱在明媚的春日。她曾将苦涩洁白的樱花撒满樱树枝头，一片凄美的花瓣飘落，不经意间，装进了爱意浓浓的信封，对此他一无所知。长长的路途没有尽头，花瓣已经渐渐退色，只留下一股春天的芬芳。笑容溢满他的脸庞，像一个人陷入温柔的回忆里。他不知她曾经来过。
第二年夏天，因为浓浓的思念，她更靠近他了，他没有察觉。她把自己深藏在一只贝壳里．只将爱的召唤传递给他。在那只贝壳滚落到他的脚下之前，已被她握在手中好久，上面还有她的温度。犹豫的脚步在沙滩上留下忧郁的足迹，他在含着珍珠的贝壳前驻足。它是那样明亮，那样与众不同。于是，他笑了。他将它拣起，抛向大海，之后，久久地凝望，像是有过一段温柔的思绪。他不知她曾经来过。
他把她赶走后，忧郁的秋日随之而来。她躲在一棵树后，亲吻着一片飘落在自己发间的树叶，偷偷地望着他，而他没有察觉。她轻轻地将叶子放在如镜的湖面，让它接受九月秋风的抚摸。风吹向他，携带着那片叶子，上面满是她心中的温暖。他对停在脚下的叶子扬起微笑，却不明白为什么觉得应该拣起那片疲惫的树叶，放入怀中再给它温暖。他不知她曾经来过。
那个晚冬，她的生命走到了尽头，而他却毫不知情。一片丝绸和银片般柔软纯洁的雪花，飘落在他的睫毛上，他微笑地看着彩虹般的七彩水滴滑落，不知道为什么，甚至包括这微笑，他都想要落泪。他永远也不会知道，她曾经来过。
这是一个有些凄美的故事。爱，隐在深处，默默地付出，从来不考虑回报，为的只是让对方幸福、快乐。这就是爱，真爱，是一种奉献、一种实际行动。爱虽无声，却深深入心。
The Silent Love
Anonymous
That bright springtime； when they loved each other； she had scattered without him knowing it the branch full of bitter white of a cherry tree in bloom and a delicate petal had slipped； like randomly； in the envelope with the love letter。 The petal had faded away before reaching the end of the long way； leaving behind it only a little spring perfume that made him smile like one does to a mild memory。 And he didn’t know that she had been。
Next summer； when； for missing him too much； she had gotcloser without him knowing it。 She was hiding only to