雙語美文：雜貨店里的老師
我走近柜臺，柜臺后面有一位我從未見過如此長相的女人。一副鑲有假寶石邊框的眼鏡搖搖欲墜地架在她的鼻尖上，滿頭灰發(fā)。
“打擾一下。”我說。女人抬起了頭。
“你就是克萊門特家的小孩吧，”她說,“我是蜜蜂小姐。過來讓我好好看看。”蜜蜂小姐把眼鏡向鼻子上扶了扶說道,“如果商店失竊，我好向治安官描述你的外貌特征。”
“我又不是小偷!”我有些吃驚。我才7歲啊!怎么可能當小偷呢!
“在我看來，你只是個黃毛丫頭，可我覺得你有這方面的潛質(zhì)。”蜜蜂小姐說著就回過頭看報紙去了。
“我要買這些東西，”我說著，舉起手里的購物單給她看。
“那又怎樣?去取啊。” 蜜蜂小姐用手指了一下紗門上的一塊牌子。“這里就我們倆，我不是你的傭人，所以我建議你最好到那一摞籃子那兒拿一個，找到要買的東西就往里面放。如果幸運的話,你在天黑之前可以趕到家。”
離天黑還有五個小時，我不知道來不來得及。
我從離我最近的貨架開始逐層尋找購物單上第一件商品：豬肉和菜豆。我來來回回找了三次，才在一堆面包和麥片里發(fā)現(xiàn)一聽豬肉。第二件是一卷手紙，在一份新聞報紙下找到的;創(chuàng)可貼——我在哪兒看到的?哦，對了，在面霜旁。這家商店就像一座迷宮，然而里面卻充滿驚喜。我在花生醬后面還發(fā)現(xiàn)一本新的超人漫畫!
那年夏天，我每個星期都要到蜜蜂小姐的店鋪幾趟。有時，蜜蜂小姐少找我錢;有時，她多收我錢。更甚的是，她還把前一天的報紙當作即日的報紙賣給我。我到她店里買東西，感覺就像上戰(zhàn)場一樣。手里攥著購物單，腦中牢記商品名，我離開奶奶家向蜜蜂小姐的雜貨店挺進，這陣勢就像當年巴頓將軍征戰(zhàn)北非一樣。
“那聽菜豆只要29美分。”一天下午，我糾正蜜蜂小姐道。我緊盯著收款機上的數(shù)字變化，蜜蜂小姐入賬時記的是35美分。被我察覺多收了錢后，蜜蜂小姐毫無難堪之色，她越過鏡框瞥了我一眼，然后把價格改了過來。
她從不讓我宣告勝利。整個夏天，她想盡辦法來捉弄我。我剛記住小蘇打的發(fā)音以及它在貨架上的位置，她就調(diào)整了商品的排列，害得我又一頓好找。暑假快結(jié)束了，以前耗時要一小時的購物之行，現(xiàn)在十五分鐘就完事了。在我要返回布魯克林的那天早上，我到蜜蜂小姐雜貨店買一包口香糖。
“好了，潛能小姐，”她說，“這個夏天你都學到了什么?”你是個十分刻薄的人!我雙唇緊閉。令人驚奇的是，蜜蜂小姐大笑起來。
“我知道你是怎么看我的，”她說，“但你不會想到：我并不在意!人生于世，各得其所。我相信我的任務是教會我遇到的每一位小朋友人生的十個教益。隨便你怎么想，潛能小姐。當你長大后，就會發(fā)現(xiàn)我倆的相遇其實是一件值得慶幸的事。”慶幸遇見蜜蜂小姐?哈!這想法有夠荒唐的……
直到有一天，女兒拿著作業(yè)來到我的身邊。
“這些數(shù)學題太難了。你能替我做嗎?”她說。
“如果媽媽替你做了，那你自己如何能學會呢?”我說。這時候，我突然想起那時在蜜蜂小姐雜貨店的情景：我吃力地核對著收款機里的數(shù)目。自那時起，我有被多收過錢嗎?
當我的女兒回過頭繼續(xù)做作業(yè)時，我在想：蜜蜂小姐真的在多年前就向我傳授了若干人生之道嗎?我隨手拿起了紙，開始動筆記錄。
確實，我學到了整整十條人生教益：
1. 學會仔細傾聽。
2. 不要想當然——事物每天都在變化。
3. 生活充滿驚喜。
4. 大聲說出你的問題。
5. 不要以為身臨困境總會有援手。
6. 并不是每一個人都像你一樣誠實。
7. 不要急于評判他人。
8. 凡事要竭盡全力，即使任務似乎超出自己的能力范圍。
9. 仔細復核每個環(huán)節(jié)。
10. 最好的老師并不只在學校。
You went to the butcher’s for meat, the pharmacy for aspirin, and the grocery store for food. But when I spent the summer with my Grandmother in Warwick, N.Y., she sent me down to the general store with a list. How could I hope to find anything on the packed, jumbled shelves around me?
I walked up to the counter. Behind it was a lady like no one I’d ever seen. Fake-jewel-encrusted glasses teetered on the tip of her nose, gray hair was piled on her head.
"Excuse me," I said. She looked up.
"You’re that Clements kid," she said. "I’m Miss Bee. Come closer and let me get a look at you." She pushed her glasses up her nose. "I want to be able to describe you to the sheriff if something goes missing from the store."
"I’m not a thief!" I was shocked. I was seven year too young to be a thief!
"From what I can see you’re not much of anything. But I can tell you’ve got potential." She went back to reading her newspaper.
"I need to get these." I said, holding up my list.
"So? Go get them." Miss Bee pointed to a sign on the screen door. "There’s no one here except you and me and I’m not your servant, so I suggest you get yourself a basket from that pile over there and start filling. If you’re lucky you’ll be home by sundown."
Sundown was five hours away. I wasn’t sure I would make it.
I scanned the nearest shelf for the first item on my list: pork and beans. It took me three wall-to-wall searches before I found a can nestled between boxes of cereal and bread. Next up was toilet paper, found under the daily newspaper. Band-Aids—where had I seen them? Oh, ye next to the face cream. The store was a puzzle, but it held some surprises too. I found a new Superman comic tucked behind the peanut butter.
I visited Miss Bee a couple of times a week that summer. Sometimes she short-changed me. Other times she overcharged. Or sold me an old newspaper instead of one that was current. Going to the store was more like going into battle. I left my Grandma’s house armed with my list—memorized to the letter—and marched into Miss Bee’s like General Patton marching into North Africa.
"That can of beans is only twenty-nine cents!" I corrected her one afternoon. I had watched the numbers change on the cash register closely, and Miss Bee had added 35 cents. She didn’t seem embarrassed that I had caught her overcharging. She just looked at me over her glasses and fixed the price.
Not that she ever let me declare victory. All summer long she found ways to trip me up. No sooner had I learned how to pronounce bicarbonate of soda and memorized its location on the shelf, than Miss Bee rearranged the shelves and made me hunt for it all over again. By summer’s end the shopping trip that had once taken me an hour was done in 15 minutes. The morning I was to return to Brooklyn, I stopped in to get a packet of gum.
"All right, Miss Potential," she said. "What did you learn this summer?" That you’re a meany! I pressed my lips together. To my amazement, Miss Bee laughed. "I know what you think of me," she said. "Well, here’s a news flash: I don’t care! Each of us is put on this earth for a reason. I believe my job is to teach every child I meet ten life lessons to help them. Think what you will, Miss Potential, but when you get older you’ll be glad our paths crossed!" Glad I met Miss Bee? Ha! The idea was absurd...
Until one day my daughter came to me with homework troubles.
"It’s too hard," she said. "Could you finish my math problems for me?"
"If I do it for you how will you ever learn to do it yourself?" I said. Suddenly, I was back at that general store where I had learned the hard way to tally up my bill along with the cashier. Had I ever been overcharged since?
As my daughter went back to her homework, I wondered: Had Miss Bee really taught me something all those years ago? I took out some scrap paper and started writing.
Sure enough, I had learned ten life lessons:
1. Listen well.
2. Never assume—things aren’t always the same as they were yesterday.
3. Life is full of surprises.
4. Speak up and ask questions.
5. Don’t expect to be bailed out of a predicament.
6. Everyone isn’t as honest as I try to be.
7. Don’t be so quick to judge other people.
8. Try my best, even when the task seems beyond me.
9. Double-check everything.
10. The best teachers aren’t only in school.
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