On the day I entered school, my mother led me to stand uneasily at the door of the classroom early. Although she had already agreed with someone, her mother still seemed very cautious. After all, this was the second semester of the first grade, and it was long past the normal admission time. People like me, who started studying from the next semester, were not even transfer students. It was agreed that he would study for one semester first and then formally enroll in the first semester of the next September.
The classroom is in the old ancestral hall. When you enter through the main door that opens to the south, you are faced with a square patio. The patio is very dirty. In addition to paper scraps on the floor, there is also the smell of urine brewed over time. The first-grade classroom is in a small, dark room on the left side of the patio. Looking inside, one can see excited little faces with uncertain faces. Someone is hammering the table, and there is a clear sound of sniffling. I pressed against the door frame of the classroom and shrank back, pushing my mother back into the courtyard. I stepped on the smell of urine. My mother was so angry that she slapped me hard several times. I wanted to cry. There is also a feeling of needing to pee.
At this time, a soft foreign accent suddenly came to my ears: very soft, right in front of me, but still as if it was far away; very soft, as if it melted at the entrance Maltose, sweet and lingering, sweet to the heart. I don't remember what she said at that time, but I just felt so peaceful and kind. All the tension disappeared for a while, and I just looked at her without blinking. She is so beautiful, with willow-leaf eyebrows and cherry mouth. All the fairies in grandma's stories look like this. There is a pleasant smell on her body, light and elegant, just like the warm fragrance mixed with the kueh leaves just taken out of the drawer, like a breeze on a summer night and a few wisps of cooking smoke in the dusk. Obsessed.
She is my first-grade teacher. The adults call her "Holland's Wife". It is said that she is called "Holland" because of her man, but I always thought she might be "Henan's Wife". I can't be sure. Her hometown is in Henan.
"Holland Sister-in-law" never curses, and always says softly: "Don't make a noise - don't make a noise-", her foreign accent with a long tail drawled the following. The child smiled even more. At this time, she would frown and tap her hand on the table three times in a row, very gently. When the last tap was on the table, her eyes would be a little red. The children looked at her expression and knew that she was really angry, so they didn't dare to laugh anymore and stared at her. We were all afraid that she would cry.
She doesn’t even hit anyone. The whip looked so smart and cute in her hand. She chose the thinnest and softest bamboo stick, with a little tip, and we could chant along with her: "ɑ——о——e——".
She is a substitute teacher, and I still don’t know her academic qualifications. Psychology and education must be very luxurious things for her. But she used her most authentic motherhood to make the most playful children in the class regard school as a happy event.
The semester came to an end soon. After the final exam, "Holland's Wife" seriously suggested to her mother: "Let's just go to the second grade. This child is very good, better than other children in the class." ”
So, I entered the second grade. Teacher Hua teaches second grade. He walked so fast, always in a hurry, as if he was rushing for something, swinging his hands back and forth wildly, and twisting his hips very fiercely. Looking from a distance, he looked a bit graceful. In my memory, he always came to the classroom on time. During the preparation bell, Teacher Hua placed the plowshare or hoe against the window sill outside the classroom. Regardless of the specks of mud still stained on his tied trousers, he hurriedly Came to the podium and started teaching a class. Teacher Hua was also very involved in class. The chalk in his hand made the blackboard squeak loudly. Each stroke he drew seemed to be competing with the blackboard. Sometimes when he got carried away, he would half-crouch on horseback and gesture with the chalk in one hand. Pointing one hand at the classmates, sticking his butt out, he kept 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 would use the sweet potatoes at home to carefully carve patterns such as red stars, fish, flowers and birds, dip them in ink pads, and leave exquisite marks on the eugenics' homework books. This red mark has become the motivation for many children to complete their homework seriously. From then on, I had a special affection for art. From elementary school to junior high school, every book I wrote was filled with dense portraits of little people.
He made us first understand what "happiness" is. When he was taught the word "happiness", he drew chalk on the blackboard. He first drew a large manor. There was a pond in the manor. There was a red carp jumping out of the water in the pond. There were rows of fruit trees around the pond... and then We read "Happiness" together. After reading, he raised his eyebrows slightly, opened his nostrils, pouted, and raised the corners of his mouth, as if he smelled the smell of happiness.
He made us understand: happiness is so simple, real, calm and concrete. He said that happiness requires hard work, and then we read together: "Hard work - hard work -"
He seemed to know everything. Later, he also opened a bicycle repair shop and a food processing workshop, and even Murakami's "people's He also participates in the band. During weddings and weddings, you will see him walking in the middle of the team, holding a huqin and playing "baaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa""... He is always part-time and seems to always have a passion that can ignite life.
Many years later, I saw a short and fat scholar on a channel called "Window of Education", pushing the frame of his glasses with his hands from time to time, and talking endlessly about "life". "Education", so I thought of Teacher Hua's interpretation of happiness and his full enthusiasm for life.
After the third grade, there are more teachers to teach us. The one who teaches mathematics is Teacher Han. He is tall and thin, and his rough and dark face is full of the vicissitudes of time. It is said that he was widowed very early. She dragged a pair of children under her knees. Her daughter was in the first grade when she was teaching us. She was as dark, thin and timid as her father.
Teacher Han doesn’t talk much. Except in class, he rarely speaks and rarely smiles. I remember that he would help me sharpen my pencils, and he would always squat down when he came to our seats to talk to us. He is the only teacher who can say hello to children when he meets them on the road. Once, several of us children helped him carry a small bag of things. Unexpectedly, he said "thank you" to us very seriously.
The most incredible thing to us is that his daughter is often bullied by her senior classmates, and he never protects her. Once I saw him holding his daughter's hand and arguing with a senior child there, every word of which was extremely sincere.
He made me believe that all people are created equal.
So, my heart is extremely longing for this kind of equality. From now on, when others bully me, although I will still cry, I will quietly raise my head, and my inner stubbornness will be conveyed in my squinting eyes. I hope they can also understand: Just because you can beat me does not mean that you are Just better than me. This silent expression did not make me stronger, but it made me more open-minded.
Many years later, at his funeral, I suddenly realized that his humility and peace had deeply affected the formation of my personality, and a simple civilian thought had penetrated deeply into my soul. .
At that time, I was an adult.
At the end of the first semester of fourth grade, we met Teacher Zheng. The weather was extremely cold in those days, and the snot from repeated wiping froze into hard crusts on the children's patched sleeves. The tightly wrapped children were bloated like balls.
At that time, final quality inspections were implemented, and different schools sent teachers to each other to invigilate the exams. Before the bell rang for the exam, a short and fat teacher came in with a mustache and a slightly splayed walk. The students whispered below: "Somewhat like a duck." I wonder if the teacher heard this. , he knocked on the table hard and stared at everyone for more than two minutes. The bell rang for the exam, but there were no curls, and everyone felt a little scared.
Finally, the test papers were handed out, and everyone became much more honest. No one dared to say a word, and there was only the sound of "shushua" in answering questions in the classroom. A few minutes before the final exam, everyone was a little relaxed. Some children began to move uneasily, and the teacher moved down from his chair and stood up. At this time, a melodious fart sound was conveyed shyly around the corner. . The whole class burst into laughter. The teacher was not angry, and just looked at everyone with a half-smile. For a few minutes, until the bell rang for winding up the papers, many students suddenly woke up. So throughout the winter vacation after the exam, "conspiracy theories" were widely circulated among our classmates. Everyone felt that this teacher was too scheming.
Unexpectedly, in the second semester, he became the new teacher of our class.
Teacher Zheng is the first public teacher I have ever met. He is good at keeping the children submissive and obedient. Teacher Zheng is unpredictable. Even when he scolds people with a cold face, his mustache always dances with a smile that is either teasing or complacent. Even when he hits someone, he has a calm and peaceful smile.
So, I began to worship the teaching profession: it is a real art!
He was very kind to me, and the smile between his brows and beard lit up my life like sunshine. His profoundness made me feel the kaleidoscope of life. Sometimes in the middle of the night I would turn over and prop my elbows up, thinking dreamily about the mystery behind that smile as deep as the ocean.
It was he who made me discover my "outstanding" talent. He always praised me with all kinds of extremely complimentary words on various occasions. He praised me so much that I felt like I was flying when I walked. It was he who exaggerated my confidence and popularity.
After the primary school entrance exam that year, when he came back from the town to mark papers, he told everyone that one of my essays had the highest score in the town. Soon even my mother and neighbors knew about it. Days are the happiest in the entire elementary school.
Later, I also became a teacher, and sometimes I would praise my students like this. I know, that is motivation, although you are definitely not that good, but this kind of motivation will give you a kind of confidence.
Five years of primary school life is over, and we, still wearing red scarves, are in the first grade of junior high school. The first grade of junior high school is also in the original school, attached to the elementary school, but the classroom has been moved. A row of new brick houses were built on the open space more than 100 meters north of the ancestral hall. That is our new home.
Teacher Xiong teaches us Chinese. Teacher Xiong is black and of medium height, but his manners are very "cultured". Even the flesh of his cheeks seems to be full of knowledge. He likes to pause when he speaks, letting his expression gather momentum between his cheeks, and full of emotion brewing between his slightly opened lips and teeth. At this time, his eyes are very thoughtful, and his bright forehead is full of wisdom.
He likes to teach in an unconventional manner. Sometimes he can teach one text in one class, and sometimes he cannot finish one text in two or three days. I remember when I was learning "Hometown", Teacher Xiong started chatting from Tofu Xishi to Sister Xianglin, from Sister Xianglin to Ah Q, then to Kong Yiji, and finally to Madman... In more than three days, almost all of us were Popularized "The Complete Works of Lu Xun" once.
We love listening to such story-filled lessons, and everyone likes his spontaneity and romance.
He told us "The Second Handshake" in class, a romantic emotional story that fascinated everyone; he told us "Strange Footsteps" in class, a terrifying and suspenseful story. The whole class was silent...
He even asked us to write down the stories he told in words. I remember that it took me nearly a week to write "Strange Footsteps" which was 10,000 to 20,000 words long. During this week or so, I was immersed in my own story, and I was moved by myself again and again... This work moved Teacher Xiong, and from then on, I was his most proud disciple.
He expresses his views without hesitation, and his confident and confident expression is admirable.
On that summer night, he suddenly became interested and took me and a dozen other children on foot for three or four miles to an open-air venue in a neighboring village to watch a movie. The movie that night was "Little Flower". Teacher Xiong asked an acquaintance for a bench. We sat crowded together, and a few others squatted around him. That night, the moon was bright and the stars were sparse, the breeze was sultry, and there were more and more people in the noisy open-air venue. Even the half-broken wall in the southwest corner was full of people, chatting, eating melon seeds, walking... Like a busy city. From time to time, people would urinate in the dark nook in the southeast corner. The smell of urine mixed with the fragrance of the fields in the distance created a unique summer atmosphere. Only Teacher Xiong! The figure who is always sitting upright, always full of emotions, and the majestic and broad forehead, that is the look of an educated person. Following Teacher Xiong, we felt that we were also otherworldly. Everyone looked at the screen with pious eyes, and sometimes looked at the teacher. When Liu Xiaoqing on the screen dragged Tang Guoqiang on the stretcher, kneeling on the stone steps step by step to the interlude "Velvet Flower", Teacher Xiong's Adam's apple rolled up and down, and even the muscles of his cheeks were following the beat of the music. Rhythmic, full of emotions that seemed to burst the expression on his face... At that moment, we all saw the crystal tears in the corners of the teacher's eyes. As a result, there were crystal tears in the corners of our eyes.
Teacher Xiong’s romantic personality stimulates our imagination like yeast. I also became more dreamy. Sometimes I dream that I am standing on a high place, as proud and satisfied as Teacher Xiong: looking up, the sky is high, the clouds are clear, and the sea and sky are vast; looking around, there are waving hands and cheers like a tsunami. ...When I woke up, I saw a stack of wheat half as tall as a man, and my mother's sullen eyes. My collar was wet with saliva, and a long-legged little frog jumped across my lips...
Growing up happens unexpectedly like this. I find that I often live in a touching emotion, just like every summer morning, moist and warm.
I'm starting to think like an adult, and I'm thinking about my future and life...