Silkworms in spring will weave until they die, and candles will drain the wick every night.
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As the old saying goes, teachers are like silkworms, and wax torches turn to ashes. They devote their life to adding a little more brocade and splendor to our future road and less gloom. But I still can't feel the teacher's love for us Sometimes they criticize me, and sometimes they are very demanding of me. I was punished for being late, but that day, my opinion changed completely. That day, the teacher gave us a blackboard with crooked words, a blackboard with memories and a blackboard with heavy love. ...
Before the mid-term exam in the third grade, the biting cold wind was like a knife, and it felt like "the north wind rolled the white grass." The cold wind penetrated into my mind and woke me up from a state of being half awake and half asleep. We waited shivering for the morning class.
After a while, the door of the classroom slowly opened and Miss Chinese appeared in our field of vision. "What happened to Miss Wang?" "Huh?"
There is always an expression of disbelief on the students' faces. Teacher Wang is different from usual. The red light on his face is often replaced by pale white, and his steps are vain, as if he would fall at any time. He also brought a silver thermos. There is no doubt that Mr. Wang is very ill. She sat in front of the platform and said in a hoarse voice, "Today, we have ... Well, lesson 20, open the book ..." Those Chinese characters seem to have been forcibly pushed out, although they are light, but they can be heard. Distressed feelings mingled with chill hit our hearts. The teacher began to write on the blackboard. The teacher stood up slowly, holding the table with his left hand, and his right hand began to jump and slide feebly on the blackboard. Gradually, there appeared a few words on the blackboard that lacked strength like an old woman, and her always delicate words disappeared. In order to make us see clearly, the teacher wrote a little harder, and his left hand kept shaking on the table. At this point, there seems to be something in my heart. I've never felt this way before. Kind of ... like a mother's love. ...
After class, the teacher said to us in a vague accent, "I wish you all good grades in the exam, goodbye to the students ..." Then the teacher stepped out of the classroom.
There is still silence in the classroom. Looking at the crooked but legible words on the blackboard, we were speechless. The teacher left, but left the words on the blackboard. After a long time, no one got up to clean the blackboard as usual, and everyone sat quietly. They symbolize nothing but heavy teacher love! Although the words on this blackboard can be erased, the memory on this blackboard will always exist in our hearts and will never be erased!
In the examination room, we all work hard, and our motivation is nothing more than the memory on the blackboard, which shines on us like a bright pearl, dozens of times warmer than the warm sunshine!