When I was in kindergarten, my view of good teachers was simple: I just hope that teachers can play with us every day, teach us to sing and write, and make us happy when we are unhappy and crying. That's all.
Childhood is always so short, and soon primary school life began to open its arms to me. The teacher's image, which was very different from that in kindergarten, quickly corrected my idea of a good teacher. I remember they all wore dark clothes and reading glasses, which hit me hard. I think primary school teachers should be cuter, more beautiful and more temperamental than kindergarten teachers. With the passage of time and the deepening of my understanding of teachers, I found that the names of these teachers were also on the list of the most lovely people. I remember an autumn outing in the second grade. We had a picnic together and had a good time. One weekend in grade three, we played poker in the classroom. With the teacher's eyes that hate iron and patient persuasion, I felt a warm current in my heart. In the fourth grade, the teacher organized us to make up lessons for us free of charge ... all this, now that I think about it, is still vivid.