The classroom is in the old ancestral hall, and the main entrance faces south, facing the square patio. It is very dirty, except for the scraps of paper on the ground and the smell of urine brewed by years. The first-grade classroom is in a dark little room on the left side of the patio. Looking inside, the excited faces were confusing, and someone hammered the table to the mountain wall, making a crisp sniffling sound. I grabbed the door frame of the classroom tightly, shrank back, bowed my mother straight into the yard and stepped on the smell of urine. My mother slapped me angrily. I want to cry and pee.
At this time, a soft foreign accent suddenly came from my ear: very light, just in front of me, but it seems to be far away; Very soft, like maltose melts in the mouth. Sweet and My Sweetie, sweet to the heart. I don't remember what she said at that time, but I felt so peaceful and kind. At that time, all the nervousness disappeared, and I just looked at her without blinking. She is so beautiful, with arch eyebrows and cherry mouth. All the fairies in grandma's story look like this. She has a good smell, faint and elegant, just like the warm fragrance mixed on the leaves of drawers, as charming as the breeze in summer night and the wisps of kitchen smoke in the twilight.
She is my first-grade teacher, and adults call her "Mrs. Holland". It is said that her man's name is "Holland", but I always think it may be "Mrs. Henan" and her hometown may be in Henan.
"Mrs. Holland" never swears, but always whispers, "Don't make any noise-don't make any noise. Her long-tailed foreign accent made the children laugh more happily. At this time, she will frown and strike the table with her hands three times in a row. The action was very light, and when I finally shot it on the table, my eyes were a little red. The children looked at her and knew that they were really angry. They were afraid to laugh and stare at her. We are all afraid that she will cry.
She doesn't hit people. The whip looks so smart and lovely in her hand. She chose the thinnest and softest bamboo stick. With a little tail tip, we can read after her: "ɑ-о-e-".
She is a substitute teacher, and I didn't know her education until now. Psychology and pedagogy must be very extravagant things for her. But she used the truest motherhood to make the most playful children in the class regard school as a happy thing.
A semester will soon be over. After the final exam, Mrs. Holland seriously suggested to her mother, "Go directly to the second grade." This child is excellent, better than other children in the class. "
So, I went to the second grade. She is a Chinese teacher who teaches grade two. He walks very fast and is always in a hurry. He seems to be in a hurry. His hands swung back and forth greatly, and his hips twisted badly. Seen from a distance, he has some manners. In my mind, he always comes to the classroom on the spot. In order to prepare for the bell, Mr. Hua leans his plow or hoe against the window sill outside the classroom. Although there were mud spots on his trouser legs, he hurried onto the platform and began his class. Teacher Hua is also very involved in class. The chalk in his hand makes the blackboard creak, and every stroke seems to be competing with the blackboard. Sometimes when he goes to a forgetful place, he crouches, holding a chalk gesture in one hand, pointing at his classmates in the other, pouting his ass, and constantly retreating to the other corner of the blackboard, saying, "Come again! Come again ... "
Teacher Hua not only writes well, but also draws well. In his spare time, he will use sweet potatoes at home to carefully carve out red and five-star patterns, fish, flowers, birds and so on, leaving a beautiful mark on eugenics' exercise books. This red mark has become the motivation for many children to finish their homework seriously. Since then, I have a special feeling for art. From primary school to junior high school, every book of mine is full of portraits of villains.
He first let us know what "happiness" is. When he taught the word "happiness", he drew it on the blackboard with chalk. First, he drew a broad manor with a pond in it. A red carp jumped out of the water, surrounded by rows of fruit trees ... and then we read Happiness together. After reading it, his eyebrows were slightly raised, his nostrils were bright, his mouth was pouting, and his mouth seemed to smell happiness.
He made us understand that happiness is so simple, true, calm and concrete. He said that happiness needs hard work, and then we read together: "hard work-hard work-"
He seems to know everything. Later, he opened a bicycle repair shop and a food processing workshop, and even joined the "folk band" in Murakami. When it comes to weddings and funerals, you will see him walking in the middle of the team, holding a huqin in his hand and pulling it "eyah" ... He always works part-time and seems to have a passion that can ignite life forever.
Many years later, from a channel called "Window of Education", I saw a stout scholar, pushing a mirror frame with his hand from time to time, and talking about "life education" there, so I remembered the happiness explained by Teacher Hua and his enthusiasm for life.
After the third grade, many teachers taught us. The math teacher is Miss Han, a tall and thin man with a rough and dark face full of vicissitudes. It is said that he lost his wife early and dragged a pair of children under his knees. When he taught us, her daughter was in the first grade and looked as black and thin as her father.
Teacher Han doesn't talk much. Except in class, she seldom talks and basically doesn't laugh. I remember he would help me sharpen my pencil, and he always squatted before talking to us. He is the only teacher who can meet children on the road and say hello to them. Once, several of our children helped him carry a small bag of things, but I didn't expect him to say "thank you" to us seriously.
What surprises us most is that his daughter is often bullied by senior classmates, and he never protects calves. Once, I saw him holding his daughter's hand and arguing with a senior child there. Every word is extremely sincere.
He made me believe that all men are created equal.
Therefore, my heart yearns for this kind of equality. From then on, when others bully me, although I will still cry, I will quietly raise my head and squint to convey my inner stubbornness. I hope they can understand that you can beat me, but it doesn't mean you are better than me. This silent expression did not make me stronger, but made me more open-minded.
Many years later, at his funeral, I suddenly realized that his modesty and peace had deeply influenced the formation of my personality, and a simple and popular thought had penetrated into my soul.
At that time, I was an adult.
At the end of the fourth grade, we met Miss Zheng. Those days, the weather was particularly cold. On the patched sleeve of the child, the nose repeatedly wiped becomes hard and hard, and the wrapped child is bloated like a ball.
At that time, the final quality inspection was carried out, and different schools sent teachers to supervise each other. Before the exam bell rang, a short and chubby teacher came in, with a moustache and walking a little out of his character. The students whispered at the bottom, "Some are like ducks." I wonder if the teacher heard me. He knocked on the table and stared at everyone for more than two minutes. The exam bell rang, and there was no curly hair. Everyone is a little scared.
Finally, the test paper was issued, and everyone was honest. No one dared to say anything. There is only the sound of answering questions in the classroom. A few minutes before the final exam, everyone was a little slack. Some children began to move uneasily, and the teacher got off the chair and stood up. At this time, a long fart came with shame. The whole class burst into laughter. The teacher didn't get angry, but looked at everyone with a smile for a few minutes, until the bell rang, and many students were shocked. So throughout the winter vacation after the exam, "conspiracy theory" was widely circulated among our classmates, and everyone thought that the teacher was too scheming.
Unexpectedly, he became the new teacher in our class in the second semester.
Teacher Zheng is the first public teacher I met. He is good at making his children obey. Mr. Zheng is inscrutable. Even when he curses with a cold face, his moustache always dances with a smile that I don't know whether it's teasing or complacent. Even when hitting people, he has a calm and peaceful smile.
So, I began to worship the profession of teacher: this is a real art!
He is very kind to me, and the smile on his brow illuminates my life like sunshine. His profundity made me feel the kaleidoscope of life. Sometimes in the middle of the night, I turn over, put my elbows up and think about the mystery behind that deep smile.
It was he who made me discover my "outstanding" talent. He always praises me with all kinds of compliments on various occasions, and praises me for feeling like flying when I walk. It was he who boasted about my confidence and reputation.
After the junior high school exam that year, he came back from the town to concentrate on marking papers. Everyone said that one of my compositions got the highest score in the town, and soon even my mother and neighbors knew about it. Those days were the happiest in the whole primary school.
Later, I also became a teacher, and sometimes I praised my students like this. I know, that's motivation. Although you are certainly not that good, this kind of motivation will give you a kind of confidence.
Five years of primary school life is over, and we are still wearing a red scarf and in the first grade. The first grade is also in the original school, attached to the primary school, but the classroom has been moved. A new row of brick houses has been built on the vacant land more than 0/00 meters north of the ancestral temple/KLOC-,which is our new home.
Teacher Xiong teaches us Chinese. Mr. Xiong is black, of medium build, but his manners are very "cultural". Even the meat of the gills gang seems to be full of knowledge. He likes to pause when he speaks, so that his expression can gain momentum between his cheeks, and his full emotions are brewing between his slightly parted lips and teeth. At this time, his eyes are thoughtful and his shining forehead is full of wisdom.
He likes to have a free and unconstrained style class. Sometimes he can finish a text in one class, and sometimes he can't finish a text in two or three days. I remember when I was studying Hometown, Mr. Xiong talked about Xianglinsao from Tofu Xishi, from Xianglinsao to Ah Q, then Kong Yiji, and finally the madman ... In more than three days, The Complete Works of Lu Xun almost spread to us.
We like to listen to such a story-telling class, and everyone likes his casualness and romance.
He told us the second handshake in class, and the romantic emotional story fascinated everyone; He told us "strange footsteps" in class, and the whole class was silent because of the terrible suspense. ...
He even asked us to write down his story in words. I remember that it took me nearly a week to write 10,000 to 20,000 words of Strange Footsteps. In this week or so, I was immersed in my own story and was moved by myself again and again ... This work touched Mr. Xiong, and I have been his most proud disciple ever since.
He is not shy about expressing his views, pointing out the mountains and rivers, and his triumphant appearance is admirable.
That summer night, he was suddenly in high spirits and took me and a dozen other children three or four miles to an open-air venue in a neighboring village to see a movie. That night, the movie was Little Flower. Teacher Xiong asked someone he knew for a bench, and we sat in a crowded place. Several other people squatted around him. That night, the bright moon was in the sky, the breeze was provocative, and there were more and more people in the noisy open-air venue. Even half the wall in the southwest corner is crowded with people, chatting, eating melon seeds and taking a walk ... like a busy city. In the dark corner of the southeast corner, people urinate from time to time, and the smell of urine is mixed with the fragrance of distant fields, brewing a unique breath of summer. Only Mr. Bear! The figure sitting forever is always full of emotion and broad forehead, which is the appearance of cultural talents. Following Mr. Xiong, we feel that we are also extraordinary. Everyone looks at the screen with pious eyes, and sometimes at the teacher. When Liu Xiaoqing dragged Tang Guoqiang on a stretcher on the screen and knelt on the stone steps with the interlude Edelweiss, Mr. Xiong's Adam's apple fluctuated up and down, and even the muscles of his cheeks beat rhythmically with the music, so full of emotions that he seemed to burst his facial expression ... At that moment, we all saw the tears flashing in his eyes. Then, there are crystal tears in the corner of our eyes.
Teacher Xiong's romantic personality stimulates our imagination like yeast. I also became more fond of dreaming. Sometimes I dream that I am standing on a high place, and I am as full of ambition as Mr. Xiong: Looking up, the sky is high and the clouds are light, and the sky is vast; Looking around, I saw waving and tsunami-like cheers ... when I woke up, it was a half-height wheat pile and my mother's angry eyes. The saliva soaked the neckline, and a long-legged frog jumped from my lips. ...
What a surprise to grow up. I find that I often live in a moving mood, like every summer morning, wet and warm. I will start thinking like an adult. I am thinking about my future and life. ...