Purple rain imperial city; The prodigal son is cold; Responder: Awakening Kitten-Director Grade 8 9-3 09:55 Whenever I walk past the teacher's window, the stars twinkle in the quiet night, and the teacher's room is bright all night. Every time I walk past your window, bright lights shine on my heart. Cultivate a new generation of hardworking gardeners late at night! The light is still on. You are writing a textbook, and a tall figure is reflected in your window. On the new Long March, teachers have made new contributions, and successive successors have thrived. Shoulder the hope of the motherland, rush to all directions. You always stare with tears in your eyes. Ah, whenever I think of you, dear good teacher. A warm current stirred in my heart. Responder: Ying Wei-Tong Sheng Grade 9-3 10: 14 What is the teacher like? Teachers are like red candles, illuminating the road of knowledge. What is a teacher like? Teachers are like spring rain, spreading bits and pieces of knowledge in our hearts. What is a teacher like? Teachers, like gardeners, cultivate our young family into a large number of knowledgeable people. What is a teacher like? Teachers are like a golden key, leading us into the treasure house of knowledge. What is a teacher like? Teachers, like our mothers, accompany us every day and tell us some colorful knowledge. It is the teacher who has given us so much knowledge. I wish all the teachers will always be young and beautiful. Responder: The day after tomorrow, I-assistant level 2 8-3 1 19:52, a poem dedicated to the old teacher, sent you a bunch of flowers to show our respect for you; Send you a touching song, bring you a little sweetness. Teacher-you have worked hard, you have brought us through the difficulties, you have nourished us with knowledge, but you never ask for anything in return. You told us not to give up easily when we encounter difficulties. Since then, our life has been full of joy at any time. There is a lot less trouble. It adds a kind of fortitude. It's another harvest autumn, and you still hold the colored brush in your hand. It depicts a beautiful blueprint and nourishes the peaches and plums of the motherland. In the middle of the night, you are still preparing lessons carefully, and in your sleep, you are still recalling the joy of our success. We are flowers in full bloom in spring, and you have played a wonderful melody for us. You are a diligent gardener, and we will remember your earnest teachings. Have a good life. = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = Poems for teachers-teachers' eyes are like the moon at night, and we are stars, shining in teachers' smiles. A teacher's eyes are like an endless ocean. We are small fish, swimming happily in the teacher's arms. Teachers' eyes are like the blue sky. We are a white cloud. Under her gaze, freedom floats everywhere, and the teacher's eyes are like mirrors. Can light up our hearts. = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = Poets dedicated to teachers are like gardeners, full of peaches and plums; Teachers are like red candles, burning themselves to illuminate us; Teachers are like bees, hardworking and brave; Teachers are like mothers, beautiful and kind; A teacher is like a book, giving us a lot of knowledge. Happy Teachers' Day to my dear teacher. = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = =//jpg jzx/news/print . ASP？ Articleleid = 408 = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = A poem dedicated to the teacher sends you a bunch of flowers to show our respect for you; Send you a touching song, bring you a little sweetness. Teacher-you have worked hard, you have brought us through the difficulties, you have nourished us with knowledge, but you never ask for anything in return. You told us not to give up easily when we encounter difficulties. Since then, our life has been full of joy at any time. There is a lot less trouble. It adds a kind of fortitude. It's another harvest autumn, and you still hold the colored brush in your hand. It depicts a beautiful blueprint and nourishes the peaches and plums of the motherland. In the middle of the night, you are still preparing lessons carefully, and in your sleep, you are still recalling the joy of our success. We are flowers in full bloom in spring, and you have played a wonderful melody for us. You are a diligent gardener, and we will remember your earnest teachings. Have a good life. = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = September —— The poem dedicated to Teachers' Day is full of fruit and yellow in September, but I still smell the fragrance of peaches and plums in March, and it is cool in September. The fruit of September gives us maturity and gives us yearning for autumn. In this golden autumn season, we have the self-evident happiness of being in separate ways. Children, I hope your eyes are shining with hope, and don't be deeply confused at the fork of life. I would like to use my soul to light a spiritual light for you and grasp the correct course for you in the dark sea. I would like to use my silent and persistent heart to create thousands of possible paths for you on the three-foot platform. I would like to live and study with your youthful passion, grow together and bloom for life! I know that this festival reflects China people's respect and hope for teachers for thousands of years. Chalk and branches Gaga draw the curve of life. Homework, accumulated layer by layer, is an eager expectation. I am no longer a candlelight, because the faint candlelight is not enough to illuminate your direction; I will not be a silkworm, because it is not the dream of a free soul that binds me. I am the sun, burning and generating, bringing you radiant heat; As the leading goose, I spread my wings and soar with you in the clear sky of Wan Li. Children, I want you to look at the wider world. Children, I am just a ray of sunshine in September. On the journey of your growth, I, we, for the future of the nation, for the hope of the nation, we will burn brighter than the sky and ignite your pile of warm fire! In September, we trudged between Japan and China. We have given everything and gained everything. It is your diligence and love that make our pockets swell, and we are full of * * *, because like you, we are all free masters of life. The sails are still sailing in September, children, I want you to say loudly, "OK, I'm coming. Follow you-my captain-"= = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = A poem dedicated to Teachers' Day: Fruity September, Chrysanthemum. We remember who was still sowing hope for us in September. We haven't forgotten who silently made our wedding dress in September. Let's never forget September. We dare not forget who taught us thought. In September, I dare not forget who made the world have love and books. In September, we dare not forget who built the temple of knowledge with hard work. In September, we dare not forget who guided us in confusion. In September, we watched the wheat wave harvest. In September, we are still growing up in textbooks. We won't forget. There is something called sacredness, there is something called divinity, that is, the enlightened stars on the horizon, which silently follow the light that comes first and then goes back for countless times, there is something called eternity, that is, the rocks returning from watching the tide by the sea gradually run out of life in the wind and rain, which has become a totem worshipped by countless pilgrims, and there is something called sincerity, that is, the unadorned white clouds bear too many birds eager to fly, with their own fatigue. There is something in her eyes called love, simplicity, dedication or farewell praise, because she is so beautiful. Yes, some people write a great poem by themselves, just like the silent ears of wheat grow and harvest, and then give birth to a poem that hopes for the teacher. Teachers are like gardeners, caring for budding flowers, and teachers are like candles, lighting themselves and illuminating students. Every time I see her classmates' homework neatly written, her face is full of smiles. Day after day, year after year, the old man's footprints have been printed on her eyes. Every day the teacher goes to bed at the latest and gets up at the earliest! If there is no teacher to feed us diligently, where will there be generations of talents? ..... Ah, teacher, you are so great! Whenever I make a mistake, I see your tolerant eyes! Teacher, you have worked hard! Responder: Ping Pong Jumping Beans-Magic 17 9-2 09:06 Ode to the Gardener. Everyone says that you are cultivating the pillars of the motherland. I want to say that you are the pillars of the motherland. You have propped up the backbone of our generation! You are like a red candle, giving all the heat and light to the younger generation! Your character and spirit can be summed up in two words-burning! Keep burning! Your lecture is rich and colorful. Every chapter seems to open a window in front of me and let me see a beautiful new world ... Ah, with you, the garden is so gorgeous and the earth is full of spring! Teacher, please open the window and have a look. All this love and this garden full of peaches and plums are paying tribute to you! Without the nourishment of your thoughts, how can so many beautiful flowers of the soul bloom? Ah, teacher, engineer of human soul, who is not praising you! Spreading knowledge is sowing hope and happiness. Teacher, you are the sower of this hope and happiness! Teacher, you are a cultivator and a sower of beauty. It is you, shining with beautiful sunshine, nourishing beautiful rain and dew, making our hearts green and full of flowers! You are busy with the blooming of flowers and the ripening of fruits, silently hanging the shade of leaves! Ah, teacher, your spirit, always remember my heart! You are more like a nameless root, let the young trees grow sturdily, let the branches bear rich fruits, but ask for nothing in return. You gave us a ruler of life, let us measure it every day; You gave us a mirror of exemplary behavior, and let us learn everywhere. You are a bridge, connecting the cut mountains for us and leading us to the peak of harvest; You are a green vine, tough and slender, which guides us to collect Ganoderma lucidum and ginseng at the top of the cliff. When Miao Er needs a glass of water, never send a bucket of water. And when you need a bucket of water, never give a glass of water. Giving in due time is a skill of a good gardener. My teacher, this is your art of education. Regardless of the cold inkstone in Qin Xin, peaches are ripe and dripping, but plums are ripe and incompetent. It is easy to grow flowers, but difficult to educate people. The valley is very fragrant, poems are full of people, paintings are full of people, and talented people smile. Teacher, you use the noblest feelings of human beings-love, sowing spring, sowing ideals, sowing strength ... sowing with words, cultivating with colored pens, watering with sweat and nourishing with painstaking efforts. This is the noble work of our beloved teacher. You work in the present, but you are building the future of the motherland; You teach in class, but your achievements are in all directions of the motherland. Teacher, if you are compared to a clam, then students are the sand in the clam; You lick it, grind it, soak it, and wash it with love ... Over the years, the sand turns into pearls and shines. There are countless proud and happy memories in your teaching career, but you keep them in your heart, just staring at a garden to be explored. If I were a poet, I would write poems with enthusiasm and praise the vastness and profundity of the sea. And dedicated to you-my broad-minded and knowledgeable teacher. Teachers are kindling, igniting the fire in students' hearts; Teachers are stone steps, carrying students to climb steadily step by step. You are like a candle, thin as it is, but with a little heat and light, it illuminates others and exhausts yourself. This selfless dedication is unforgettable. The language of your lectures is as sweet as a tinkling mountain spring, as cordial as a gurgling stream, and as turbulent as a rushing river ... Spring silkworm has never said anything to brag in her life, and the silver silk spit out is a ruler to measure the value of life. Dear teacher, you have never shown off in front of others, but the blooming peaches and plums are the highest evaluation for you. Your love is as warm as the sun, as warm as the spring breeze and as sweet as a clear spring. Your love is more severe than father's love, more delicate than maternal love, and purer than friendship. Your teacher's love is the greatest and cleanest in the world. The value of fireflies is to shine on others with lights hanging from the back end; Your respect lies in always providing convenience for others. Who scattered the rain and dew all over the earth? Who feeds the seedlings hard? It's you, teacher, you are a great gardener! Look at the flowers blooming everywhere, which one is not as hard as you, and which one is not as smiling as you! Answer: Qu Zifeng-Magician Level 5 9-2 20:34 Praise the teacher. I remember your hands were covered with powder. I remember your kind teachings. I remember your new silver hair. Because of you, students can become talents. The world is so civilized because of you. Teacher, you are a bright lamp, a teacher looking for a home for lost children. You are an angel. In September, you dedicated it to the teacher. It will arrive as scheduled. Therefore, the world is brilliant. We sing September, because it is your eternal festival. We remember September because it was our sincere confession. September is an emotional cup. We hold high our sincere wishes with our hands. Please drink a toast. The music has been played in September, please accept our gifts in September, all the teachers who are struggling in the education front. The teacher praised others for getting gold from life. You can only get flowers. Your gold is the sunrise, your silver is the fifteenth moon, and you are still whistling happily. Your pride is the fragrance of peaches and plums You said that red apples are fruit trees, and the bubbles blown out are colorful little suns. Teacher, I want to tell you that you are a magician, and you hold up a magical dream. You said that the bow on the child's head is a rotating propeller. So the little girl who loves beauty fantasizes that she can fly to the sky one day. Teacher, I want to tell you that you are an angel, and you shed a piece of youth and sunshine. You said that Sunflower is a Korean girl with a golden washbasin on her head, smiling and waiting for the farmer's uncle who came back from the field to wash her tanned face. Teacher, I want to tell you that you are a gardener, and you sow seeds and hope. You said that the moon has a bald head and no cotton hat, and the two stars next to it are frozen red ears. He has a cruel stepmother ... so the naughty boy took off his skating hat and burst into tears ... Teacher, I want to tell you that you are a holy angel and you have sown your vision and imagination. Teacher, I want to tell you that among children, you are the wind of imagination, you are the flag of fantasy, leading innocence and courage, swinging like a cloud, climbing the hill full of flowers ... inch by inch of chalk is dyed white, your hair rose is lit into a candle to illuminate others, let hieroglyphics become your footprints, climb to the top of the cliff to let latecomers step on your shoulders, and send groups of students on their way. What is a teacher like? Teachers are like red candles, illuminating the road of knowledge. What is a teacher like? Teachers are like spring rain, spreading bits and pieces of knowledge in our hearts. What is a teacher like? Teachers, like gardeners, cultivate our young family into a large number of knowledgeable people. What is a teacher like? Teachers are like a golden key, leading us into the treasure house of knowledge. What is a teacher like? Teachers, like our mothers, accompany us every day and tell us some colorful knowledge. It is the teacher who has given us so much knowledge. I wish all the teachers will always be young and beautiful. Hello, teachers, you are diligent gardeners, who use knowledge to make dew and cultivate the flowers of the motherland. You are selfless candles, dedicated to burning yourself and illuminating others. You said it was your long-cherished wish to have peaches and plums all over the world. The heroic spirit on the three-foot platform is your eternal attachment, the sweat flying on the blackboard, and the expectation that the pen tip will flow. You comfort your heart with motherly loving hands, support Qian Qian's dream and realize the hopes of all teachers. Teacher, you stick to the glorious cause of people's teachers with love and persistence, and you perform the sacred duties of people's teachers with lofty professional ethics and ethics. 5. Teacher, who is "working hard"-who leads us into the spacious classroom and teaches us a wealth of knowledge? It is you! Teacher! With your hard sweat, you have nurtured the tender seedlings that have just broken ground in spring. Who-who educated naughty us into understanding and helpful people? It is you! Teacher! Your care is like a warm spring breeze, which warms our hearts. Who is it-to train young people into mature and sensible teenagers? It is you! Teacher! Your protection makes us grow up healthily. The autumn season is fruitful. You have worked hard! Teacher! People who work hard in the heat and cold. You have worked hard! Teacher! Dedicate youth to nothingness.