The sound of the rain hitting the windows wakes me up and it sounds just exactly as it did 15 years ago, which reminded me of my girlhood. It was my second day of school and it was raining heavily. I could not resist the habit I had at home, so I fell asleep right at my desk. I woke up to find myself not in the classroom but carried on Dad's back. We were halfway home. It was the last time I felt close to him. After that, he never carried me or hugged me as other fathers did to their children. I was not bothered much by this thought. I was proud of it, for I felt independent and "grown up." However, there were times when I felt depressed by not having sought comfort from him. One day, I was writing Chinese characters as homework. I hated doing this more than anything. Dad came and stood behind me for a moment, watching me scratching the paper. Then he said, "This kind of writing needs patience. Your writing is not strong enough. Press harder." I follow his advice for the next two words, but as I could see little improvement, I followed my own method----the fast way. His advice did not improve my writing but our relationship. As I grew older, I found out that he had finished his schooling in Grade 6, which was the highest grade in the town then, so he was considered to be a scholar. People used to ask him to write something to put on the walls, but he never felt very useful. He often said to me, "As you can see, this family is going to count on you. We are useless to improve you anything for your future.You have to get an education to change the life for yourself." As a result of his expectation, I have made it through high school and through college. How did the author first react to father's suggestion?
She found it hard to accept. She was confused about it. She accepted it. She doubted it.