The morning sun is grateful to the sun for bringing dawn to people, the flowers are grateful to the grass for making it more colorful and dazzling, the birds are grateful to the branches for giving them a stage to sing, and I want to thank my mother for teaching me to be strong. But, sometimes I also want to cry.
"The old pavilion was last year's weather". Last year, a ruthless heavy snow took my father's life! I still remember that it snowed that afternoon, and my classmates were having a lot of fun at school, but I couldn't be happy. Maybe it was because I was too busy studying, and I was always thinking about my homework. When I got home in the evening, I saw my mother's eyes were red from crying. I asked her what was wrong. She said it was snowing heavily and the highway was closed to traffic. My father wanted to go home to see his daughter, so he took a detour through the mountain road to go home. Because of the ice, the mountain road was very slippery. On the road from XX to Jiujiang, the car rolled down the mountain. I can't believe what my mother said, how is it possible? Dad called me yesterday and said he bought me a lot of gifts. I cried, but didn't make a sound. I was afraid that my mother would be even more sad when she heard it.
The next day, I didn’t want to go to school. When my mother found out, she took my hand and said, "Son, your father is gone, but you still have your mother. No matter how hard or tired you are, your mother will take care of you." You must study hard and be successful in the future. This is also your father's expectation." After hearing this, tears rolled in my eyes, as if a flash flood was about to break out. I wiped my eyes with my hands and thought, I must be strong and hold on. Now that my mother and I are the only ones at home, I can’t lose confidence no matter what. Under the escort of my mother's moist eyes, I started studying intensely again. Sometimes, I want to cry, but for my mother, I can't.
"There is no choice but to let the flowers fall." Since my father passed away, I have become much silent, my mother rarely laughs anymore, and the house is often filled with an air of silence. In terms of study, I lost my father's guidance and was upset all day long, so my grades plummeted. Sometimes when I get home, I get angry at my mother. As soon as I saw the silvery white hair on my mother's head, I regretted it again. Yes, isn’t mom sad too? I was full of regrets and felt sorry for my mother. If she knew that my grades had dropped, she would be even more sad than me.
After I failed an exam, I closed the door and sobbed when I got home. It lasted for a long time until my mother opened my door. After my mother came in, she hugged me and we both cried together! After a while, my mother and I comforted each other. That time, my mother said a lot to me, but I only remembered one sentence deeply: "A person's body can fall, but his will cannot."
"Deja Vu Yan Returns". I understood what my mother meant and wiped away my tears. From then on, I worked on the questions independently and studied them carefully. I usually didn't go to bed until twelve o'clock. My mother also stayed with me late into the night every night. Finally, God paid off and my grades ranked second in the class. Thinking of my mother's efforts day and night, I really want to cry in her arms. But I can't, I can't cry, I can't let my mother worry that I am not strong enough. That "déjà vu" joy came back to me. Now I am alone in the examination room with the hope of my deceased father and the sustenance of my kind mother.
Mom, you know, I will write this article in one breath while holding back tears. Your hard work, your smile accompanying me, and your strong character are all vivid in my mind. Mom, you gave me warmth, you gave me confidence, and you gave me strength.
Mom, I really want to shed tears and spit it out, but I can’t, because too many tears will affect the exam. Because today is only the first session of the high school entrance examination, the following subjects are still waiting for me to deal with them with confidence! I cannot and will not let you down.
Really, sometimes, I want to cry. But, for the sake of my mother, I restrained myself.
Examination Hall Excellent Work 2
Sometimes, I can’t even think about it
A candidate in Jingdezhen ○
“Blue sky, yellow leaves The earth...the mountains reflect the setting sun and the sky meets the water. The grass is ruthless, even outside the setting sun."
Looking at the prompt "Sometimes I also think about it" in the essay title, a picture flashed through my mind. Pictures and thoughts abounded, and it took me a long time to calm down and return to the examination room. Somehow, as I grow older, I feel like my thoughts are getting heavier and heavier. I often tell myself to think less, but I can’t always control it.
I once thought about leaving a name in history.
The passing geese leave their voices, and the passing people leave their names. What have I shed in these fifteen wasted years?
Spring has passed and autumn has come. After fifteen reincarnations and fifteen years of hardships and vicissitudes, I have experienced hardships, but from the beginning to the end I have never been able to truly understand the saying "The edge of a sword is sharpened, and the fragrance of plum blossoms comes from it." Bitter cold is coming.”
I once wanted to be strong and brave.
Facing Paul Korchagin, I really feel guilty after asking myself. I shrink back when encountering difficulties, feel discouraged when my test scores drop, cry bitterly when my hand is cut with a knife... I really want to be strong in the face of difficulties, not shrink back, face difficulties bravely, and challenge myself; sometimes, I also want to improve my grades Be strong under the blow: learn lessons, sum up experience, catch up, and move forward bravely; Sometimes, I also want to be strong when my hands are bleeding: wipe away the tears, pick up the scissors and gauze, and endure the pain for myself Dress the wound. But I can't seem to do it.
I once thought about studying hard and honoring my parents.
Recalling the two enduring idiom stories of "Sticking on a hanging beam" and "Lying on the ice to seek carp", I can't help but lower my head and reflect on myself.
Think about the protagonists of the story. In order to study hard, they even had their heads hung up and their buttocks stabbed. How brave and hard they are! And I never make sacrifices for good grades. Thinking about the ancients, in order to satisfy their mother's wishes, they would lie on the ice, use their own warmth to melt the ice and snow, and get carp for their mother. But I have never done anything for my mother, which is embarrassing to say.
I also thought about taking it seriously.
Look at my classmates, look at my desk mates, they listen attentively, take notes, and answer questions loudly, but I, from time to time, wander off in class, write messily, and answer questions. I always lower my head. Occasionally, I wonder if the strange poem "The Four Heads of a Student" is talking about me: "The activities in the class are full of activities, the teacher lowers his head when asking questions, and he stretches his head every time he takes an exam, and his grades are not good." Good to shake my head." Although I didn't "stretch my head", I almost "achieved" the other "three heads" one by one.
I have also thought: I have always been impetuous, and sometimes I want to be deep; I have always been careless, but sometimes I want to be serious; I sometimes want to be brave in difficulties; I also want to be brave in right and wrong. Justice once; as the saying goes, "Hardships will bring success to you", sometimes I want to be strong in the setbacks...
I really want to put aside my selfish thoughts and stop thinking randomly, but I just can't do it. .
If I could think less or not - then, my fifteen years might not have been a "grey" sky and a land of yellow leaves, but a "blue sky and clouds and a land of green leaves", then ,Fifteen years of wind and rain, fifteen years of time, have left a page of glory.
Really! Sometimes, I can't think about it.
Third Excellent Works in the Examination Room
Sometimes, I also want to write a book
One candidate from Dexing City○
Sometimes, I also want to write a book I want to write a book...
The starry sky on a summer night carries too many of my dreams. I meditate quietly, hoping to use my youth to write the next book.
Sometimes, I want to learn from Lu Xun and write a book like "Morning Blossoms Plucked at Dusk". The years pass by in a hurry, and we silently hide the past at the bottom of the memory box. Sometimes, I also want to write a book to record the moments when beautiful flowers bloomed. I want to quietly recall the joy of building blocks with my friends as a child on a bright morning, slowly recall the sublimation of friendship after the quarrel and reconciliation with my friends in elementary school, and carefully reflect on the ups and downs of my junior high school life and now. Dream, wait until one evening a few years later to open the closed heart and wipe away the dust on the memory. Sometimes, I also want to write a book to guard the beautiful wealth of the past. At night, let the warmth of the present sleep with the sweetness of the past.
Sometimes, I also want to learn from Kawabata Yasunari and write a book like "The Dancing Girl of Izu". Maybe it was because of the excessive study pressure. I was carrying a heavy shell like a snail and could hardly breathe. I want to write a book that dances in my heart like the innocent Izu dancers; blooms in a pure world like a flower, releasing the most perfect life with a pure heart. Sometimes, I also want to write a book to record a heart without distracting thoughts, so as not to let the smoke and dust of the world blind my eyes and hinder my progress.
Sometimes, I also want to learn from Ostrovsky and write a book like "How Steel Was Tempered". Life has taught me that difficulties in life are inevitable and we should tell ourselves to be strong. I want to be a warrior like Paul, face challenges with a smile, meet dreams with youth, release the rays of sunshine in my heart, and write my own motto forcefully - this is how youth is made! This reminds me of the Wenchuan Earthquake. The ordinary and tall figures. Those survivors who survived with their own faith and courage, didn't they also perform perfect lives like Paul? Sometimes, I also want to write a book, like a warrior, building my own myth with strength and courage.
Under the bright starry sky on a summer night, I meditate quietly, why is life not just a book? We need to live every day seriously, put aside distracting thoughts and use strong will to write it well. I silently made a wish to write the most brilliant chapter with the most beautiful brush.
Sometimes, I also want to write a book. However, I haven’t started writing yet...
Four Excellent Works in the Examination Room
Sometimes, I also want to bring that bag of soil with me
○One candidate from Yingtan, Jiangxi○
"Go home often and take a look... The old man doesn't think about how much his children can contribute to the family. Life is not easy, so he just wants to be safe." When I saw the composition test questions, I thought of this song. Over the past six months, whenever I hear this song, I always feel panicked. The singing reminds me of my parents and a bag of dirt. Sometimes, I also want to take that bag of dirt with me.
My home is in the mountains, and I am a true mountain person. I used to be with the birds singing in spring and the fragrance of flowers, and the chirping of cicadas in the breeze in summer. But the embarrassment of life and the poverty of spirit always keep me company with them. "Children in the mountains have a bad life." This is a popular saying among mountain people. My mother often said to me since I was a child: "You must study hard and get out of the mountains in the future." I have firmly remembered this sentence. Words, for my mother and for myself. When I was in elementary school, I would climb five or six miles of mountain roads to go to school every day, and my grades were always among the top three in the class. After graduating from elementary school, I was admitted to the experimental class of a key middle school in the city.
On the day I came to the city to go to school, my mother sent me to school.
After settling my food and daily life before leaving, my mother took out a small cloth bag and said softly, "Son, take it." I looked at the bag in her hand, and at the hand covered with veins like ivy. , asked in surprise: "What is this?" Mother said: "Son, this is a bag of soil, from the vegetable field in our back garden." I was puzzled: "Mom, why did you bring it to the market?" My mother said: "Mom is afraid that if you go to the city to study, you will be proud and homesick! When you are proud, when you miss your parents, just look at this bag of soil, think about the folks in the mountains, and think about the folks. It's a hard life. If you don't study hard, you will have to go back to the mountains to serve these lands." I said a little unhappy, "I won't be proud." Look around. When I was a classmate, I said to my mother: "Throw it away quickly, don't let others see it." My mother's face suddenly darkened, and I said "I'm leaving, you go home" and walked away without looking back. Bedroom.
In the past three years, the bag of soil would occasionally slip from my dreams, making my heart throb. Especially last semester, I was addicted to Internet cafes. I often didn’t go home on weekends, but I called my mother to tell her about my homework. I was nervous and asked her to send money and clothes to school...
On the day of the New Year's Eve during the winter vacation last year, my mother was busy going in and out, and waves of warmth enveloped me. I hold the book in my hands, but my mind is always distracted. Suddenly, "Bring me the scissors from my bedside table. I just killed a chicken and cut it open for you to eat." My mother called to me. I opened the bedside table, and a familiar small bag suddenly appeared in front of me. After handing the scissors to my mother, I returned to my parents' room and carefully opened the layers of cloth. Yes, it was really a bag of dirt! When I opened the handful of soil that was filled with the smell of home and maternal love, my heart began to tremble. Inside the dry soil, there is a note: "Child, follow your own path, and you must really walk out of the mountains!" The crooked words, every stroke, are the interpretation of mother's love, penetrating every word. The child's regretful heart.
I can’t imagine my mother’s mood on the way back from school that day. This bag of soil was not thrown away. My mother actually took it back to her home in the mountains and hid it in the bedside table. A bag of soil expresses how much my mother cares about me.
The sunshine of the mountain may not be warm enough, and the oath of the mountain may not be loud enough, but the love of the mountain is always broad enough to embrace the entire mountain and melt all the cold hearts. When school started in the new year, I picked up the bag of soil and prepared to put it into my luggage. I wanted to take it to school and put it under my pillow, always remembering my mother's hopes and expectations. My mother noticed it, stared at me for a while, and took back the cloth bag without saying a word.
Really, sometimes, I also want to bring that bag of dirt! I firmly believe that where the soil is, the dream is there