Mr. Dawu, a teacher in the kindergarten class. The skin color is healthy wheat color, the eyes are curved, the smile can't be hidden, and the speech is as soft and slow as the spring breeze.
My painting enlightenment began with her. A group of children sat around with crayons, staring at Mr. Dawu's eyes in class seriously, staring at her slender, articulated hands swimming on the whiteboard like goldfish, flexible and beautiful. I watched with bated breath, bowed my head in front of my white paper and copied it by hand. She came up to me and patted me on the head. "That's a good painting." . After that, post my work in the corridor. The children all cast envious eyes on me, and I was encouraged and increased my confidence.
She is more patient and tolerant of naughty children, and she likes them. The body that takes a nap is particularly lazy. The most sleepy child is sitting in front of Dawu with a braid and sleepy eyes. The teacher tidied her hair with her own small wooden comb. Looking down and smiling, the scattered sunlight enters from the window and shines on her harmonious and serene smiling face, such as turning her hands and turning the long black ponytail into a faint halo. The world is particularly lovely and comfortable, and the teacher's ponytail is particularly conspicuous and beautiful.
Teacher Wu sings beautifully, clapping her hands and stamping her feet with us along with the melody, singing in her throat, and demonstrating the slightly more difficult places over and over again until we can all hum it down completely. Her heart is as happy as ours.
Teacher's braided hair, teacher's hands, teacher's voice, teacher's smile and teacher's naive truth, how can I forget?
That day, you waved to us in the afterglow of dusk and watched us step into the arms of primary school. You held us in your arms one by one, and we naively said, "I'll see you later." However, without that, we were scattered at the end of our vision.
The original agreement never came true. In eight years, teachers and students became passers-by.
But in my heart, Mr. Dawu, I have never forgotten you!