>>我感兴趣，马上在线咨询Prompt: What you do in the classroom defines only a part of who you are. How do you spend your time when you are not in class?]

At my childhood home in Macau, frames of Chinese brush calligraphy and paintings were everywhere. As a kid, I did not care much about those “hanging things.” My family only talked about their value, because artists of posthumous fame created them. Since my grandparents, my parents and their friends just regarded them as decorations and even displays of wealth, I did not learn to appreciate them as art until I was fourteen.

In my Chinese primary school, Chinese calligraphy was an academic subject. I had no interest in it, because it was a messy art. I was always watching out for the ink -- if I put too much on a brush, the ink would drip, and the whole piece would be smeared. I always wondered, “Why do people still want to write with those clumsy brushes?” It took me a long time to learn how to handle that “clumsy” brush correctly. The teacher often told us, “You should be able to hold an egg in your hand while you’re holding the brush, ” yet in the first year, I learned only how to make dots, because the brush kept slipping.

Despite my initial indifference toward this fading art, I did learn how to write well, using both pen and brush. Through practicing Chinese calligraphy, I learned how to structure a Chinese word, which piqued my interest. For example, the Chinese character of “horse” actually looks like a horse. When I was in sixth grade, my teacher nominated me for an annual Chinese calligraphy competition. My family was elated, because writing well in Chinese calligraphy was a sign of being a scholar. They so desperately wanted me to win that they hired a calligraphy teacher to teach me to write the hardest form of calligraphy. In three months, I only learned how to imitate my teacher’s writing, but soon I would be taught an unexpected lesson: at the competition, I blanked out after being given a poem that I had never practiced before. I could not write a word of my own style. I lost. And I cried. I felt I disgraced my school, my family, my calligraphy teacher, and most of all, myself.

After the competition, my calligraphy teacher said to me, “You have no passion, no respect, no will in writing Chinese calligraphy. That’s why you lost. Girl, let us start over. Let me teach you what Chinese calligraphy really means.” And so I began to learn the basics. After first learning how to hold a brush properly, in a few months I was able to write a full page of words in my own style. I developed a new attitude and a passion. I began to understand that it took patience, determination and a will to write well. The harmony between each line, each word and even each stroke is crucial in a piece. The wrong placement or even the inadequate use of force will ruin a piece; this adds to my fascination. The foundation of writing a perfect piece of calligraphy is thinking and planning. Through Chinese calligraphy, I found my philosophy of life: to plan before I act. The goal I now plan to achieve is to promote and preserve calligraphy as an art, and as an approach to life.

点评：

这是一篇极为普通的描写失败的作文。作者讲述了自己对中国书法经过了不在意－>讨厌－>被迫接受－>产生兴趣－>新的激情－>浓厚兴趣的思想变化过程。在这变化过程中穿插了一个失败的小故事－在一次书法竞赛中由于作者无法写出真正属于自己风格的汉字导致他最后竞赛的落榜。这个失败看是作者人生的一个转折，作者从这次失败中对中国书法有了一个新的思考和看法－只有对中国书法有激情的人才能真正成为一名书法家或者做中国书法方面的研究。同时这次失败也让作者萌生了要弘扬和继承中国书法精髓的人生目标。

作者在构思这篇文章的时候有一个大体的思路，但是描写却不到位。作者花太多的笔墨在情节铺垫上了，反而对故事的核心－失败的结果（也是作者人生的转折）却草草了事，一笔带过。虽然一篇出色的描写失败的作文不必浪费太多时间去设法美化失败的结果，但关键的是作者要着重描写这次失败带给自己的改变，而这个改变最好能具体到实际的例子当中而不是空谈目标和愿望。

这篇文章内容编排不合理，事例普通而不具太大说服力，形象刻画不鲜明，所以总的来说不能算是一篇好的文章。

译文：

［提示：你在课堂上的表现只能刻画出你部分的性格特征。而在课堂之外，你又是如何度过的呢？］

在澳门我童年故乡的家里，到处都摆设着一些中国毛笔书法作品和中国油画。当时的我只是个孩子，根本就不会在意这些挂在墙壁上的玩意儿。而我的家人只告诉我它们是很值钱的，因为这些都是著名的艺术家们死后所留下来的。从我的祖辈开始，我的父母和他们的朋友们就只是把这些书法作品和油画当作是装饰甚至是财富向别人展示。而我是直到14岁才学会了把它们当成艺术品来欣赏。

小学时，中国书法是我们要修读的一门课程。当时我对它一点兴趣都没有，因为在我的眼中它充其量只不过是一门零乱的艺术。而且我得时刻防备那些墨水--如果我的毛笔蘸了过多的墨水，墨水就会往下滴，那么整张纸都会被染黑。于是我经常在想，为什么这么麻烦的毛笔还会有人想用它们来写字。我花了很长的时间才学会了如何正确地使用这支麻烦的毛笔。而老师就经常告诉我们，“你们在握笔的时候同时手上应该可以握住一只鸡蛋。”但是在第一年，我只学会了在纸上打点，因为毛笔总是从我的手上滑下来。

尽管刚开始我对这日渐衰退的艺术满不在意，但我还是学会了怎样用钢笔和毛笔把字给写好。通过不断的书法练习，我学会了如何去构造一个汉字，这也激发了我对中国书法的学习兴趣。正如“马”字的外形就像一匹马。我读六年级的时候，老师就曾推荐我参加年度的中国书法比赛。我家里人都为此感到特别高兴，因为好的书法是学者的标志。他们是如此地期盼我能赢得比赛，还专门请了书法老师来教我练高难度的书法。此后的三个月，我只学着如何去模仿老师的书法，但很快我就得到教训了：在比赛中，我抽到的题目是一首我从来都没有练习过的诗歌，当时我的脑子一片空白。最后我写不出一个有我自己独特风格的字。我输了，我哭了。 我觉得自己辜负了学校、家人还有书法老师，更重要的是，我辜负了我自己。

比赛过后，书法老师对我说：“你对书法没有激情，没有敬意，也没有足够的决心去学好书法。这就是你输的原因。孩子，让我们重新开始。让我告诉你书法的真正含义。”于是我就从最基本的学起。在学会了如何正确握笔之后的几个月里，我就能写上满满一页的有着自己风格的毛笔字了。对于书法我有了一种新的态度和新的激情。我开始明白到要学好书法是需要耐心，决心和意志的。行之间、字之间甚至笔画之间的布置对于整个布局来说都是至关重要的。错误的编排或者甚至是用力的不均衡都会毁掉整个作品。这点让我对书法更加着迷了。一份好的书法作品的前提是你要思考和计划。通过学习书法，我找到了人生的真缔：先计划，再行动。现在我计划要实现的目标是要将中国书法作为一门艺术和一种生活方式予以弘扬和继承。

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