My parents asked me to learn and recite ancient poems when I was very young. At that time, I had no idea why my parents wanted me to recite ancient poems, so I lost my temper with my parents. But since that Sunday morning, my view of ancient poetry has changed.
It was a Sunday morning, and my mother let me eat the leftovers from last night because she didn't have time to buy rice. At that time, I was used to eating bread and didn't want to eat leftovers, so I poured all my mother's hot breakfast.
"April, recite the poem" Farmers "!" Mom said.
"After cutting the grain at noon, sweat dripped into the soil. Who knows, every meal, every grain ... "All the hard work is on my lips, but I can't say it! "Do you know that farmers' uncles and aunts want to sow wheat seedlings in spring and plow and sow? In summer, when you eat ice cream and watch TV at home, they are watering and fertilizing the banker; Autumn is coming, and they will drive tractors to harvest wheat fields; In winter, when you are eating the fruits of their hard work, they are sorting out the wheat fields and preparing for sowing in the spring next year! "My mother told me:" My mother has lived in the countryside since she was a child, and your grandparents are native farmers. Do you think they work so hard every day? "
After listening to my mother's words, I suddenly became enlightened: "Oh, mom, I know! Did Li Shen write this poem to save food? ! "
"Yes, how clever! So eat well now, don't waste food, be a good boy who doesn't waste food. " Mom said happily.
Compassion for farmers not only made me understand the hard-won food, but also inspired me to study hard and serve my country when I grow up!
I remember once, I saw such a short story on TV: there was a mother who was picking up garbage at the garbage station with a little doll on her back. Look carefully, the baby has no arms! It turned out that the mother moved beer bottles during the day, picked up junk and did odd jobs in the afternoon to earn money, and took care of the baby at night.
Seeing this, I can't help but think of this poem: the thread in the hand of a loving mother makes clothes for her wayward son. Before leaving, I had a stitch for fear that my son would come back late and his clothes would be damaged. But how much love an inch of grass has is three times!
Ancient poetry, like my teacher, taught me a lot of truth; Ancient poems, like my classmates, study with me; Ancient poetry, like my partner, grows with me! Let me understand a lot of truth, don't be a traitor, study hard and cherish time. ...
I want to be a Chinese teacher when I grow up, and I want to hand over China's ancient poems to the next generation, so that they can be handed down from generation to generation and be brilliant in the world!