新老师
The New Teacher
George comes from school on the first of September.
George, how did you like your new teacher? asked his mother.
I didn't like her, Mother, because she said that three and three were six and then she said that two and four were six too.....
新老师
9月1日， 乔治放学回到家里。
“乔治，你喜欢你们的新老师吗？” 妈妈问。
“妈妈，我不喜欢，因为她说3加3得6, 可后来又说2加4也得6。”

急需！英文故事，5分钟！拜托啦！

Sitting in class, I concentrated on the back of Brian's neck. Evil thoughts filled my mind; I was secretly waiting for his head to explode. It didn't, and I was forced to watch my ex-boyfriend laugh and chat with every per-son in the room while he blatantly ignored me.
After Brian and I broke up, third period became pure torture. While I was still nursing what I considered to be the world's worst broken heart, I was bombarded with the sight of my ex's excessive flirting, as if he we-re proving to me that he was so obviously over his heartache. During class, Brian would gossip loudly about h-is weekend, his latest party and his new car.
Maybe Brian was trying to get back at me for breaking off our six-month relationship. Maybe he thought th-at if he looked happy, it would hurt me more than I had hurt him.
At the end of the relationship, I let him cry on my shoulder but held a strong heart as he begged me not to go. Of course, he covered his pain very well at school, as if our tearful good-bye had never occurred.
Immediately after the breakup, Brian started dating another girl. She was graduating that spring, as if that wre a big feat for a junior-year boy. She took him to the prom and announced it right beside me in math class. I. too. had a date for the prom, but it still hurt. My hurt curdled and turned to anger. It felt like he was trying to upset me, trying to rub his happiness in my face. Every time I saw them together, I wanted to scream. It fe-lt like the pain was going to tear me in half, or a least force me to consider tearing her in half.
School was coming to an end, and I eagerly waited for summer vacation, my savior. No more Algebra two and that gnawing feeling in my stomach each day.
One day in dreaded third period, Brian leaned over to me, and to my surprise, he asked me to sign his yearbook.I must have sat there for a full minute before I got over the shock and said yes.
I thought to my self, this is my chance. I could really let him have it! I could tell him that I knew what he w-as doing, that he was trying to hunt me, and that it wasn't fair. I could tell him that I saw trough his act, that he and I both knew it was exactly that, an act. But then it hit me, what good would come of that? Would belitt-ling him make me feel better, or would it just perpetuate the pain that we both needed to recover from?
Instead of writing of the pain I had endured, I listed all of the fun times we had shared. I wrote about the first place we had ever kissed, the gifts he had given me, the lessons I had learned---the ones he had taught me, the and the first I love you that was whispered between us. It took upone page, and that quickly became two,until my hand was tired of writing. There were still a million more great memories crowding the corners of my mind, and I remembered many more throughout the day. It made me realize the things I learned from him and what graeat experiences we had shared. I finished by telling him I held no hard feelings, and I hoped he f-elt the same.
Maybe what I wrote in his yearbook made me look weak, maybe he thought I was pathetic for still holding onto the memories of our relationship. But writing all those things helped me; it helped me heal the woun-ds that still hurt in my heart. It felt liberating to let go of the grudge; I finally felt free from my anger.
I realized that Brian had taught me one final lesson: forgiveness. Someday when he is fifty and has his own children, he may stumale upon his high school yearbook, and they will ask who stacy was. I hope he can loo-k back and say I was someone who really cared about him, loved him, and most importantly, that I was someone who taught him about forgiveness.