Even after many years, she still has not forgotten the last day her whole class got together to say goodbye to their dearest schooldays. Those   36  memories always become vivid every time nostalgia (怀旧) drives her feet towards the old   37 , only to find a big old tree with all of their names carved deep into the   38  and the new school houses.
Time has changed each fate beyond any 39  .The jolly "dwarf"(快乐的矮子) of the class has now turned into a    40   businessman. The shy, skinny "bookworm" is now a talented Ph. D. That naughty girl has   41  the well-known athlete and the class beauty a movie star. But she, a   42   addict, was driven by an inner force to put her pen aside and becomes a  43  instead.
Now, she is a teacher, yet she has to   44  learning numerous difficult lessons of life. The more she   45 , the better she understands the value of her teacher's  46  lesson. She has given her students the whole-hearted   47  and tenderness that she once received from her teacher who passed  48  years ago.
Now and then, she catches   49  of a warm look in the eyes of her students, which encourages her to   50  . She hopes to find herself again in her students: always listening carefully and appreciating each   51  . To her, that will be the noblest award she could  52  receive in her teaching years.
She tells herself to try her best to understand and take life at its deepest.   53  she hasn't enough teaching experience she will give her students the   54  that are not written in the lesson plans, as her teacher used to do. Her teacher's   55    "The giving of love is an education in itself" will be always in her mind.

The other day, I received a most unexpected message in response to one of my essays: I am so proud of you and all you have accomplished. I shared your opinion …
It was signed Margaret Leibfried, who was my English teacher — a teacher who appeared at a vital (关键) point in my life and helped me believe that I could become a writer.
Thirty years ago, I entered high school as an introvert (性格内向的人) made all the more shy because I was the school’s only nonwhite student. I always felt in danger of being swept away by a sea of tall white athletes. I spent a lot of time alone, reading and writing stories, hoping to escape being teased.
Ms. Leibfried taught American literature and composition grammar, which involved the usual memorizing vocabulary, but also, thrillingly, reading novels.
Thrilling to me, that is. Many of my classmates expressed dislike for novels because they were “not real.” For once, I didn’t care what they thought. Ms. Leibfried seemed to notice my interest in both reading and writing, and she took the time to make me feel less shy; she even offered me reading suggestions, like one of her favorite novels, “The Bell Jar.”
That year’s big project was a book report, to be read aloud to the class. However, Ms. Leibfried suggested I do something “a little different.” Instead of a report, I chose a passage from “The Bell Jar” that I considered as the best to recite.
The morning of the presentations, I remember my hands sweating so badly as I walked to the front of the class that I kept my hands crossed, so I wouldn’t wipe them on my blouse.
When I finished, to my surprise, the class applauded. “Marie has picked out a particularly sensitive piece of writing and delivered it beautifully,” Ms. Leibfried said, smiling. I felt, maybe for the first time, confident.
【小题1】What was the author’s high school life like before she met Ms. Leibfried?

I was a newcomer of Miss Burn’s seventh grade. Past“newcomer”experiences had been difficult, so I was
very anxious to fit in.
Lunchtime was a pleasant surprise when the girls all crowded around my table. Their chat was friendly, so
I began to relax. My new classmates filled me in on the school, the teachers and the other kids. it wasn’t long
before the class herd(书呆子)was pointed out to me: Mary Lou. Actually she called herself Mary Louise. A
formal, overmodest young girl with old-fashioned clothes, she wasn’t ugly—not even funny looking. Practical
shoes, long wool skirt and a blouse completed the image of a complete herd. The girls’ whispers got louder and
louder. Mary Lou didn’t notice this. After school, the girls invited me to join them in front of the school.
Arms wrapped around her backpack, Mary Lou came down the school steps. The taunting began—rude,
biting comments and disrespectful words from the girls. I paused, then joined right in. My force began to pick
up as I approached her, mean(卑劣)remarks falling from my lips. I even pulled the belt of her backpack and then
pushed her. The belt broke, Mary Lou fell. Everyone was laughing and patting me. I fit in. But I was not proud.
Something inside me hurt.
Mary Lou got up, gathered her books and—without a tear shed—off, she went. She held her head high as a
small trickle of blood ran down from her injured knee.
I turned to leave with my laughing friends and noticed a man standing beside his car. His skin, dark hair
and handsome features told me this was her father. Respectful of Mary Lou’s proud spirit, he remained still and
watched the lonely girl walk toward him. Only his eyes—shining with both grief and pride—followed. As I
passed, he looked at me in silence with burning tears that spoke to my shame and scolded my heart. He didn’t
speak a word.
No scolding from a teacher or a parent could linger(逗留)as much as that hurt in my heart from the day a
father’s eyes taught me kindness and strength and dignity. I never again joined the cruel herds. I never
again hurt someone for my own gain.
【小题1】 The writer felt she fit in when      .