"No, not really." I explained patiently. "When I came home for the holidays my sophomore year of college, I thought I knew everything. I was on this big female independence kick. One evening, my mom and I were wrapping presents, and I told her that when I got married, my husband was going to help clean, do laundry, cook, the whole bit. Then I asked her if she ever got tired of doing the laundry and dishes. She calmly told me it did not bother her. This was difficult for me to believe. I began to give her a lecture about this being the 90s, and equality between the sexes.
"Mom listened patiently. Then after setting the ribbon aside, she looked me square in the eyes. ' Someday, dear, you will understand. '
"This only irritated me more. I didn' t understand one bit. And so I demanded more of an explanation. Mom smiled, and began to explain:
" 'In a marriage, there are some things you like to do and some things you don' t. So, together, you figure out what little things you are willing to do for each other. You share the responsibilities. I really don' t mind doing the laundry. Sure, it takes some time, but it is something I do for your dad. On the other hand, I do not like to pump gas. The smell of the fumes bothers me. And I don' t like to stand out in the freezing cold. So, your dad always puts gas in my car. Your dad grocery shops, and I cook. Your dad mows the grass, and I clean. I could go on and on. '
" 'You see,' my mother continued, ' in marriage, there is no scorecard. You do little things for each other to make the other' s life easier. If you think of it as helping the person you love, you don' t become annoyed with doing the laundry or cooking, or any task, because you' re doing it out of love. '
"Over the years, I have often reflected on what my mom said. She has a great perspective on marriage. I like how my mom and dad take care of each other. And you know what? One day, when I' m married, I don' t want to have a scorecard either."
Todd was unusually quiet the rest of the way home. After he shut off the engine, he turned to me and took my hands in his with a warm smile and a twinkle in his eye.
"Anytime you want, "he said in a soft voice, "I' ll pump gas for you."
我们在电影演完后，开始闲聊起来。温暖的炉火，圣诞的彩灯，家人的笑声，这一切使我满意地笑了。这时，母亲说：“想去”母亲的话还没说完，整个屋子就没人了，比输了足球赛的看台空得还快。
房间里只剩下我和我的男友托德。他满脸困惑，问我是怎么回事。我看看笑着的母亲，对他说：“让我们准备去给母亲的汽车加油吧。”
他马上回答说：“外边冰天雪地，而且，现在已经是夜里十一点半了。”我笑了笑说：“那你最好穿上大衣，戴上手套。”
我们迅速地擦掉挡风玻璃上的霜，一起进入车内。在去加油站的途中，托德让我解释为什么要在这样的天气、这么晚的夜里给妈妈的车加油。我咯咯地笑着说：“每次我们兄弟姐妹回来过节，都要帮爸爸为妈妈的车加油。我们把它看成一项游戏，我们能猜到妈妈什么时候让我们去，最后留在房间里的人要为她的车去加油。”
“你一定是在和我开玩笑。”托德说。
“我没有和你开玩笑。”我说。
在加油站的人给车加油的时候，我搓着手，蹦跳着让自己感觉暖和一点儿。“我还是不明白，你妈妈为什么不自己来做？”托德问。
我微笑着说：“我知道这听起来有点儿荒唐，我给你解释一下吧。我妈妈二十多年没有自己加过油，总是由我爸爸代劳。”托德很困惑地问：“你爸爸是否厌烦过？”我摇着头，简单地回答说：“不，他从未抱怨过。”
“真是难以想象。”托德立即回答道。
“不，真的不会。”我耐心地解释，“大学二年级我回家度假的时候，认为什么事情都懂了，尤其认为女人应该独立自主。一天晚上，母亲和我包装礼品时，我对她说，等我结婚了，一定要让我的丈夫帮我打扫房间、洗衣服、做饭，什么家务活他都得干。我还问她，整天洗洗涮涮烦不烦。令我不能相信的是，她说她很乐意做这些事情。我就告诉她这是九十年代了，要男女平等。
“妈妈平静地听我说完，在一件礼物上系完一条丝带后，看着我的眼睛，坚定地说：‘亲爱的，总会有你明白的那天的。’
“她的话使我更生气，更疑惑，于是我要求她解释明白。母亲笑了，开始给我解释：
“‘在婚姻生活当中，有些事是你想干的，有些事是你不愿意干的。你们可以挑出愿意为对方干的事，从而共同承担生活的责任。我挺喜欢洗衣服的，虽然会花很多时间，我还是愿意为你爸爸做这些事情。但是，我不喜欢去给车加油，汽油的味道让我恶心，尤其是在冬天，天气寒冷，我更不喜欢出去，所以你爸爸总是替我干这件事情。还有，你爸爸去杂货店买东西，我做饭；你爸爸割草，我清理。当然，这样的分工还很多。’
“‘你知道吗？’妈妈继续说，‘婚姻当中没有记分卡，你为对方做一些事情，会使他生活得轻松。你不会厌倦为自己心爱的人洗衣服、做饭或干其他的事情，因为你爱他，你做的一切都出自对他的爱。’
“这些年来我一直考虑妈妈的话，她对婚姻有很深的理解。我羡慕爸爸妈妈相亲相爱，而且，我结婚了，也不要记分卡。”
托德在回家的路上，罕见的安静。到家后，他关掉发动机，转向我，带着温暖地微笑着，目光闪烁，捧起我的手，非常温柔地对我说：“我随时准备为你的车去加油。”
淘气的天使
Why I Teach
惠特尼·L. 葛德 / Whitney L. Grady
I know my students. Masses of awkward seventh graders swarm the halls of my rural middle school each day, hauling backpacks over one shoulder, talking and shuffling along the tile hallway floor from class to class. I watch them like a general from my post（my classroom door） and smile at the fact that I can call each one by name.
I know their secrets, their stories. Dora slouches and is shy, and I know it is because she spends all her time at home trying not to get noticed, so she won' t feel the brunt of her stepfather' s angry hand. Jay can pitch like a tenth grader, and all the girls swoon when he and his blond hair strut by, but I know he doesn' t really even like baseball that much （he plays because his dad wants him to） and he is too scared to ask out the girl he likes. The kids think Keith is just the class clown, but I know of his dreams to become an astronaut（and I' ve recommended him for space camp）. I know my students because I am their writing teacher. They trust me with their stories and so I am given the privilege of having a secret bond with each and every one of them.
I teach my students about the power of words, and I try to let them find release and expression through writing. We learn to trust each other in writing class because we learn how hard it is to write openly and honestly, and we learn that sharing your words takes courage. I see courage every day in my classroom, and I am always amazed at the words that come from my students' hearts.
One such example of courage took place during author' s chair, a sharing session at the end of our writer' s workshop in which students volunteer to share what they have written. We had a new student to the school, Al. Al was small and, with his dimpled cheeks and baby face, he looked younger than his classmates.
In fact, when Al was first introduced to the class two weeks earlier, one student said,＂You' re not in the seventh grade. You' re a baby. "
To that, Al quickly responded, "I' m Al Billslington, and I am in the seventh grade. "