Who is it? Who used words to sow seeds? I once worked hard with colored pens; who is it? It was cultivated with blood and sweat. It's you! teacher! Your every word, every stroke of your painting, every drop of your drop, seems to be teaching us knowledge. As high as the sky is your mind, as deep as the mountains is your kindness. The elementary school days have passed, and those have become yesterday's picture pages, but what will never change is my gratitude to you. It's so long-lasting, so far-reaching, yet it's still out of reach now. Between the friction of pen and paper, you have spent almost a sacred and solemn life. Your life is so great, so selfless, so admirable!
You are the candle that melts yourself and illuminates others, you are the gardener who cultivates the land and cares for the flowers, and you are the spring silkworm who sacrifices yourself to warm others! Everything is inseparable from your hard work and diligence! On the podium, cold comes and summer comes, spring, summer, autumn and winter, with a little bit of hard work; in the garden, help the disabled and the weak, the wind, frost, rain and snow, nurture the stamens of the flowers. Teachers are not omnipotent, but nothing is impossible without a teacher. Every time, your loving eyes are filled with ardent hope, like the sunshine in September, dense and peaceful... I can’t forget that your increasingly thin figure is the hard work hidden behind your smile, just like the red maple in early autumn, reflecting The wasted years. Like sunshine, giving care and care to flowers, like spring rain, giving irrigation and irrigation to the earth, you are performing here - the most beautiful splendor of life!
The party style looks back at the days. When the candlelight sways the memory into the figure of the child, the sunset condenses into the soul of the teacher... Whenever this song sounds in my heart, every time When a familiar exchange comes from afar, a noble and holy feeling will arise in my heart. Yes, teacher, a name that accompanies everyone's growth. She is ordinary but supports the future of the motherland; poverty, But it holds up the sun of tomorrow.