A gray sweater hung limply on Tommy's empty desk, a reminder1 of the dejected boy who had just followed his classmates from our third-grade room. Soon Tommy's parents, who had recently separated, would arrive for a conference on his failing schoolwork and disruptive behavior. Neither
parent knew that I had summoned the other.
Tommy, an only child, had always been happy, cooperative and an excellent student. How could I convince his father and mother that his recent failing grades represented a broken-hearted child's reaction to his adored parents' separation and pending2 porce?
Tommy's mother entered and took one of the chairs I had placed near my desk. Soon the father arrived. Good! At least they were concerned enough to be prompt. A look of surprise and irritation3 passed between them, and then they pointedly4 ignored each other.
As I gave a detailed5 account of Tommy's behavior and schoolwork, I prayed for the right words to bring these two together, to help them see what they were doing to their son. But somehow the words wouldn't come. Perhaps if they saw one of his smudged, carelessly done papers.
I found a crumpled6 tear-stained sheet stuffed in the back of his desk, an English paper. Writing covered both sides -- not the assignment, but a single sentence scribbled7 over and over.
Silently I smoothed it out and gave it to Tommy's mother. She read it and then without a word handed it to her husband. He frowned. Then his face softened8. He studied the scrawled9 words for what seemed an eternity10.
At last he folded the paper carefully, placed it in his pocket, and reached for his wife's outstretched hand. She wiped the tears from her eyes and smiled up at him. My own eyes were brimming, but neither seemed to notice. He helped her with her coat and they left together.
In his own way God had given me the words to reunite that family. He had guided me to the sheet of yellow copy paper covered with the anguished11 outpouring of a small boy's troubled heart.
The words, Dear Mom ... Dear Daddy ... I love you ... I love you ... I love you.
参考译文：
一件灰色套衫搭在汤米的空桌上，叫人想起这个情绪低落的男生，他刚随同学从小学三年级教室出去。汤米近期分居的爸爸妈妈立刻就要来学校，讨论他每况愈下的学习成绩和捣蛋行为。爸爸妈妈双方都不了解他们要来。
汤米是个独子，一直生活幸福，乐意合作，而且是个出色的学生。我怎能使他的爸爸妈妈相信他近来学习成绩降低是一个心碎的孩子对他敬爱的爸爸妈妈分居和马上离异的反应呢？
汤米的妈妈进屋后坐在我放在我桌旁的其中一把椅子上。不一会儿他的爸爸也来了。很好！至少他们还够关心他，能按时来校。他们之间交换了一下惊奇和气恼的眼色，然后明显流露出无视他们的神色。
我详细叙述汤米的表现和学习状况，苦苦寻求适合的词汇以图把他们两个撮合在一块，帮助他们认识到他们的所作所为给孩子导致的后果。但不知如何的就是找不到适合的话，可能假如他们看看汤米的一纸脏污、漫不经心写的作业
我在他桌子深处找到一张皱巴巴的满是泪迹的纸。那是张英语作业纸，正反两面潦潦草草地写满了字，但不是布置的作业，而是翻来覆去的一句话。
我默默地把它捋平，递给了汤米的妈妈。她看完后没吭一声给了她老公。他先是皱着眉，而后脸色变温和了。他仔细盯着潦草的字看了好像无穷无尽的一段时间。
最后，他小心翼翼地折起纸，把它放进口袋里，手伸向他老婆伸出的手。她擦去眼里的泪水，抬头朝她的老公露出笑容。我也热泪盈眶，但他们两个哪个也没注意到。汤米的爸爸帮老婆穿上大衣，然后两个人一块走了出去。
上帝以我们的方法给了我使这一家破镜重圆的词汇，他把我引向了那张满是一个小孩子烦恼心情的痛苦倾诉的黄色作业纸。
那张纸上写着：亲爱的母亲亲爱的父亲我爱你们我爱你们我爱你们。
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