by Nancy Julien Kopp

Life has a way of tapping us on the shoulder， 1）beckoning a finger， and whispering， “Pay attention to this.” It happens when we least expect it. One such lesson presented itself to me at the 2）tender age of eleven.

In the 1950s I spent my days as a sixth grader in a 3）K-8 suburban school. One particular day， classes changed with the usual noise made by voices and feet as students moved down the hall and up or down staircases. I proceeded through the hallway at a rapid pace toward a large double stairway， which led to the second and third floor of the new section of our building. Suddenly， I noticed a new sound added to those already surrounding me.

The harshness of 4）cleats hitting the floor， metal creaking， and heavy footsteps caught my attention. The sound caused me to raise my head and search the area as I neared the bottom of the stairway. A girl， who wore full 5）leg braces and heavy 6）orthopedic shoes with tap cleats on the toes， made her way across a wooden-floored room that connected the old and new parts of our school. Wherever she went， Rochelle carried the reminders of her serious 7）bout with 8）polio a few years earlier. Despite the passage of more than fifty years， I see her clearly.

Rochelles hair was cut in a wavy bob and a big red hair-bow perched on the top. Her fair ivory skin glowed， and her eyes were such a deep blue， they almost looked black. She had a small， upturned nose and a wide mouth that smiled more often than not. The full steel braces supported the wasted muscles in her legs.

As Rochelle moved faster and faster， like a snowball going downhill， her feet tangled， and she landed face down at the top of the wide stairway. A wave of humanity flowed toward her， arms outstretched to help. One word from the 9）prostrate girl stopped them. “No！” she said， as she lay face down on the hard floor. I remained rooted in my vantage point at the bottom of the stairway， frozen in place， holding my breath. Rochelle lifted her head. Her eyes glistened with unshed tears as she gazed straight at me.

This amazing girl pushed herself up to a kneeling position， and with a 10）Herculean effort， made it to her feet. This was not the first time her crippled， twisted legs betrayed her. She held her head high， accepted the dropped book a boy cautiously held out to her， and made her way up the stairway to the second floor， triumph flashing in those dark eyes. The noise level and student movement returned to normal.

The whole episode took no more than a couple minutes， but that day I learned about dignity and strength of character. I found out the meaning of determination and persistence. If Rochelle is alive today， she probably still wears her braces or may even spend her days in a wheelchair， but I feel certain her spirit is unchanged. She more than likely continues to teach lifes little lessons to a great many others， in her own quiet way.

生活自有一套方式，在我們的肩膀上輕輕叩幾下，用手指召喚我們，在我們耳邊悄悄說：“留心這件事。”這種事總在我們最不經(jīng)意間發(fā)生。這樣的一課在我正處于11歲的幼年時(shí)期時(shí)曾呈現(xiàn)在我的面前。

上世紀(jì)五十年代，我在一家包含幼兒園至八年級(jí)的郊區(qū)學(xué)校上六年級(jí)。某一天，伴隨著學(xué)生們?cè)诖筇煤蜆翘萆仙舷孪履菓T常的說話聲腳步聲，課堂更迭著。我穿過走廊，快步朝著一座大型的雙排樓梯走去。這樓梯通向教學(xué)樓新區(qū)的二樓和三樓。突然，我察覺到周圍的聲音中多了一道新的聲響。

鐵釘擊打著地板，金屬發(fā)出咯吱咯吱的聲音，還有沉重的腳步聲。這一系列刺耳的聲音吸引了我的注意，在我走近樓梯時(shí)，驅(qū)使我抬起頭，掃視四周。一位女孩，兩條腿裝著全套的腿支架和沉重的矯形鞋，前腳掌還裝有防滑釘，正穿過連接學(xué)校新舊兩區(qū)的一間木地板課室。無論她走到哪里，羅謝爾都像隨時(shí)提醒著人們，幾年前她曾經(jīng)遭受過一次嚴(yán)重的小兒麻痹癥。即便半個(gè)多世紀(jì)已經(jīng)過去了，她當(dāng)時(shí)的樣子依然歷歷在目。

羅謝爾的頭發(fā)剪成了波浪型的波波頭，頭頂上別著一個(gè)大大的紅色蝴蝶結(jié)。她象牙般白皙的皮膚光彩照人，雙眼是那么的湛藍(lán)深邃，看起來幾乎與黑色無異。她有一個(gè)小小的翹鼻子和一張常掛著笑容的大嘴巴。那套包裹全腿的鋼鐵支架，支撐著她雙腿上已經(jīng)萎縮了的肌肉。

羅謝爾越走越快，就像一個(gè)滾下山的雪球，她的雙腿絆到了一起，在寬敞的樓梯頂，她一臉撲倒在地上。一大群好心人涌向她，向她伸出援手。然而這個(gè)俯臥著的女孩的一句話，讓大家止住了。“別！”她說，依然臉朝下趴在堅(jiān)硬的地板上。我的腳像生了根似地站在樓梯底的有利位置，驚呆在那兒，屏住呼吸。羅謝爾抬起了頭。她眼睜睜地盯著我時(shí)，雙眼飽含著淚水，閃閃發(fā)光。

這個(gè)了不起的女孩將自己推起至雙膝跪地的姿勢(shì)，使出九牛二虎之力，站了起來。這并不是她第一次跌倒，殘障扭曲的雙腿出賣了她。她高高地?fù)P起頭，接過一個(gè)男孩小心翼翼地遞過來的那本她掉在地上的書，繼續(xù)走她的路，爬樓梯上二樓，深邃的雙眼里閃爍著勝利的喜悅。周圍的嘈雜聲和學(xué)生們的活動(dòng)回歸到了常態(tài)。

這一小插曲只發(fā)生在短短的幾分鐘之內(nèi)，但是那天，我學(xué)到了尊嚴(yán)和人格的力量。我懂得了決心和執(zhí)著的意義。如果羅謝爾現(xiàn)在還在世的話，也許她還套著她的腳支架，又或是甚至以輪椅代步，但是我敢確定她的精神不會(huì)改變。她想必正以自己獨(dú)有的無聲方式，繼續(xù)給許許多多的人傳授人生小課。