A lesson learned in the hard way
A lesson learned in the hard way People learn things in different ways. Some learn from books, some learn from the interaction with other people, and some learn from past experiences. For me, I always feel learning from personal experiences is the most effective way. I still remember one bitter story of myself when I was young and the lessons learned from it has never been forgotten. It happened when I was 8 years old studying at a local elementary school. Like most of the pupils in China, I spent most of my time studying, reading books and writing home works. I had good curricular performance but I was really bad at communicating with other people. I was shy, lonely and timid. I tended to trust everyone around me and was never brave enough to reject the requests from others, even the requests with bad intents.
I still remember it was noon of a sunny Saturday and I was doing my homework at my room. My room was so quite except the regular ticking of the wall-clock. Suddenly, an insistent knocks on the door break the quietness. Usually, I would dismiss that: in most cases, it was just someone knocking at the wrong door. However, the sound didn’t go off after quite a while. In the bedroom beside mine, my parents were taking snap and they appeared to be falling deep sleep. They worked very hard at working hours and weekends are the only time they could rest themselves. So, I stood up and walked to the doorway reluctantly.
When I stood behind the door, I heard weak voice coming from the other side, “Please, please help me. I’m a poor beggar. I’m starving. I just need a little food or money.” Instantaneously, my feeling of sympathy popped up and a sound came out from my inner-self,
“Hey, this guy is so poor. I need to do something. I should bring him some water, some food, maybe cracks.”
“Wait! Let me see what he looks like.” My cautiousness stopped me from opening the door, and I climbed up a bench and moved closing to the peephole (Unfortunately, the
I still remember it was noon of a sunny Saturday and I was doing my homework at my room. My room was so quite except the regular ticking of the wall-clock. Suddenly, an insistent knocks on the door break the quietness. Usually, I would dismiss that: in most cases, it was just someone knocking at the wrong door. However, the sound didn’t go off after quite a while. In the bedroom beside mine, my parents were taking snap and they appeared to be falling deep sleep. They worked very hard at working hours and weekends are the only time they could rest themselves. So, I stood up and walked to the doorway reluctantly.
When I stood behind the door, I heard weak voice coming from the other side, “Please, please help me. I’m a poor beggar. I’m starving. I just need a little food or money.” Instantaneously, my feeling of sympathy popped up and a sound came out from my inner-self,
“Hey, this guy is so poor. I need to do something. I should bring him some water, some food, maybe cracks.”
“Wait! Let me see what he looks like.” My cautiousness stopped me from opening the door, and I climbed up a bench and moved closing to the peephole (Unfortunately, the