I know they must be waiting outside. They don't sit together and talk about things as anxiously as their mothers do. They must be sitting quietly in the corner, smoking a cigarette, looking at the school gate from time to time, tapping their eyes slightly, wondering if their children are all right. They don't talk, but they smoke cigarettes that have harmed them all their lives. There are traces of smoke between their rough fingers, and their faces are engraved with painful years. They are fathers.
We all know that they are our favorite children. They can do anything. They will take us to every corner of the country on that creaking old tank. They will catch grasshoppers and scarabs, and then let us ride on our shoulders to show off our achievements everywhere; They will take us to the crowd on June 1 day, and queue up for a roller coaster ride in the already sultry weather. We never worry about getting hurt, because they are extremely powerful and rooted in our hearts like trees. Even if we only know Children's Day and Mother's Day, even if we only whisper to our mothers, even if we have never said love to them. They still want nothing and express their warm love with few words.
Do we know their birthdays now? Do you know their shoe size? Do you know their greatest wish? ..... Maybe we only know ourselves, know that they will cook our favorite dishes, know that they will give us the most thoughtful gifts on our birthdays, and know that they want us to study hard. ...
Their greatness and love are silent. When our mother anxiously calls us home late, they will wait for us silently at the gate of the community. We must have seen it. When we fall, they will stand by silently and say, "Get up by yourself." We must have seen it. They make themselves strong and selfless. During the Sichuan earthquake, the children's bodies were lying on the playground of Beichuan Middle School. They are looking for their children with their nearly collapsed wives in their arms. Another group of fathers, shouldering heavy burdens and saving lives in the disaster area, listened to their children's greetings, looked up slightly and tried not to let their thoughts show, saying, "Don't miss me too much, I'm fine."
They are always so silent that they don't let us see sadness or tears. They gave us everything they had, but they never said they loved us.
They are fathers, great and tolerant. They are fathers and the people who love us the most in the world. Maybe we should give them a hug when we leave the examination room. I think they will be embarrassed for a while, and then they will never forget it until they are old.
[opinion]
"Silent fatherly love"-"waiting", "begging" and "saying" are all low-key and plain, and all the "love" paid silently is not said! In the contrast between "knowing" and "not knowing", my daughter's guilt is looming, which makes my "father"-"them" moved. Peng Shiqiang, a special Chinese teacher.
they
As the sun sets, half the sky is flushed with the afterglow of the setting sun, and the city is about to enter its bright and rich nightlife.
A ray of sunshine hits the steel bars, revealing mottled shadows on the walls, and another ray of sunshine hits their shoulders. Navy blue overalls are white spots like snow. I don't know if it's paint, cement or the witness of a hard day-dry sweat marks.
They can't rest yet. Yes, they can't. In this society where interests are maximized, developers, construction companies, contractors, contractors and people from all walks of life are red-eyed and squeezing their interests. They can't rest and even get sick. When something happens to them, they can finally rest, but they will rest forever. The contractor dropped some red paper. "Go, don't come back when you are cured." The RMB is red, the sky is red, and their hearts are red at the moment, dyed red with blood.
They are so tiny that people only think of the prosperity of tall buildings, but never think of them. They are also very big and have great responsibilities. The money for the baby to go to school at home has not been implemented, and the money for farming at home has not been implemented. The wife and old mother at home are expecting them to bring new hope to this family. "Small" and "big" are organically combined, and they are called "migrant workers".
It is often reported that two people on the expressway fought for a few dollars, even endangering their lives. We often take this as a joke. It's not just a few dollars. Is it worth risking your life? Worth it! We don't know, these few dollars are enough for his son to buy a schoolbag and his mother to buy a crutch.
People at the bottom of society (not just migrant workers) often suffer the most.
Did we see it? Parents have no choice but to hang their children's accounts in public toilets. Did we see it? The young beggar has bright and innocent eyes. Did we hear that? The groans of the children in the black brick kiln. Did we hear that? The man's cry for help in the mine disaster.
All beings are equal, and we are actually born just like them. Because of the environment and family, our so-called high position is just luck. Lucky people only have the obligation to help unfortunate people, and lucky people have no reason to laugh at unfortunate people.
Sometimes, we say they are dirty; Sometimes, we say they are rude. But they are honest, they are simple, they are tenacious, they live silently around us, and people talk lightly. How desolate!
We should help them, we should respect them and we should give them our warmth. This is what a society that "helps the world" should do.
Lucky people only have the obligation to help unfortunate people, please remember that this is an obligation!
[opinion]
As a post-90s child, it is commendable to realize the equality of all beings. Since "we" are lucky, then lucky people only have the obligation to help the unfortunate people, and there is no reason to laugh at the unfortunate people. This is far higher than the realm of ordinary people.
The language of this article is simple and sincere. The ending is a bit weak, not only to help, but also to dig deep. Xin Li, a senior Chinese teacher.
they
At the end of the city, there is no bustling market, no shining neon lights; At the end of the city, there are only weather-beaten dilapidated shanty towns; At the end of the city, there are a group of people like them.
What should I call them? Children of migrant workers? Farmers' children? Or the second generation of migrant workers? No, I don't want to call them by these cold names. I want to call them by their simple birth names, hold their hands and approach their lives. ...
They grew up in the green mountains and green waters of their hometown, and their pure souls started jointing in the fields. In the wind of Shan Ye, they are running and dreaming. The wind blew into the city from the fields. For their livelihood and future, they followed their parents to the city and took root at the end of the city.
So I got used to the eyes of green mountains and green waters, and came into contact with tall buildings and traffic for the first time. They don't know how to cross the six-lane road, and their little hands can't tell the floors of the office building. Prosperous modern civilization has never brought them any happiness, but this time, it has left a deep imprint on their hearts.
They took up their schoolbags and carefully integrated into city life. But in the strange eyes of "city people", I understood the difference between hukou and temporary residence permit for the first time. Are the treasures in parents' hearts! But prematurely assumed the burden that does not belong to this era.
When they come home from school, they cook a simple dinner, and their parents are still working at the construction site or the food market; Wake up in the middle of the night, the starry sky in the city is not as bright as my tearful hometown; Make a wish quietly, hoping that their primary school for children of migrant workers will not close down tomorrow because they can't pay the electricity bill. ...
However, I saw their growth in their growing bodies. I remember a reporter asked a child in a school for migrant children if he would go back to his hometown after graduation. The little girl said without hesitation: Of course, he must go back! At that moment, I almost cried for their growth.
I remember their childish declaration on the Spring Festival Evening that year: "Our school is small, but the results are not bad" "We don't compare with the children in the city. Beijing's 2008 is our 2008! " They gradually matured, bid farewell to yesterday's shyness and began to welcome a new day.
Although, they are still worried about small tuition fees; Although, the school still can't afford to pay the utilities; Although, there are still many imperfect systems ... although there are many "although", only one "but" is enough. Many eyes have turned to them, and they are thriving.
The sun rises from the horizon, illuminating the end of the city and their lives.
They will eventually become us.
Feel the countryside
Man is such a strange animal, always longing for the unknown, so that he is willing to exchange his life for a completely different life.
I have been to Xixi once, and one of the stops was to feel the primitive life of farmers. Like many poems praising the countryside, the words in the introduction always reveal faint joy and yearning. A wood-burning stove, a wooden crib, carved paper windows and even a simple wooden washbasin and washboard constitute the so-called pastoral dream. People give people a beautiful impression of "countryside" at will, and just take a few words from irrelevant poets, and turn the countryside into a place to send dreams-an unrealistic dream that I have been pursuing all my life.
When "country people" stopped pouring into the city, people in prison city began to fantasize. Perhaps only the world of reinforced concrete is closed by unfounded yearning, and perhaps only people who think they are civilized are labeled as naive. So there are so many naive "city people" who yearn to spend most of their youth on transportation and buy a house for the elderly in the countryside.
The busyness of the city squeezes out our thinking time. Country life is a castle that we build after working hard day and night. We only smile when we pass by. It's like a tenant visiting a property that may belong to him one day in the future, but forgetting to stop in a hurry and push the door with peace of mind.
Why is the distance between the city and the countryside so far under the same starry sky? Is it because we have always been city dwellers, or because we have lived under an invisible glass dome since childhood? Or, just because it is a new word with no definite meaning, it can be tampered with at will without being questioned by the logic that only belongs to the city?
We are just tired and bored. Perhaps our "country" is just an undisturbed holiday, a quiet moonlit night, and a life that is better for ourselves every day. So close. People in the city just want to follow the rhythm of the city, desperately consume their enthusiasm and youth, live up to themselves, and then create such a seemingly realistic but so distant dream.
"Village" is actually so close, why should it be regarded as the ultimate reward?
A city will not die.
Some people love mountains and some people love love the water, but I love cities.
Among those who love cities, some love cities and some love towns-it doesn't matter to me. I love the soul of the city.
Cities can also be personalized. Technology can give a city any appearance it wants, just as people can choose any clothes they like. But such a city is not real. I thought of Pascal. On the axis of time and space, cities and people disappear as a particle, but as Descartes said, "I think, therefore I am", if there is thought and soul, a city can also contain the whole universe. And the soul of the city is the people in the city.
I forgot where I read this sentence: "My love for a city is directly proportional to the bookstore and history of this city." I totally agree. Gorky's words, "People who don't study have no soul", are still hitting me like thunder. Refusing to read and think, as Arendt pointed out, puts people under the pressure of natural attributes, is satisfied with material consumption, and becomes a slave to the inevitability of existence. Marx regards labor as a necessary condition for human beings, and I think reading and thinking are the only way for people to become citizens.
How can a city be called a city without citizens?
And history is the source of citizenship. Not the history of architecture, but the history of habit. A city exists because of its residents from the day it was born. The words and stories of residents, the laws they made, and the way they communicate with people constitute the blood of this city; Today, it has become a moral law and value judgment handed down from generation to generation, reflecting people's character. For example, northerners in China are bold and southerners are delicate; Another example is the romance and passion in Paris and the preciseness in Berlin, which are the indelible marks of a city's history.
Writing here, I suddenly realized that it is not appropriate to touch the city. Touch is material. In Hengdian or Hollywood, you can reach any city in the world. But this city is dead. The blood, life and soul of a city are people who are ignored by skyscrapers, cars and planes as particles. I love my hometown, so I feel him: his breathing and pulse are the same as mine.
The Sichuan earthquake was so strong that it almost destroyed Wenchuan City. But the people in Wenchuan are still there, just temporarily leaving. As long as they choose to become citizens and continue to write the history of Wenchuan, the life of this city will still exist. A person who gives up reading and thinking will die, a city that forgets history will die, and Wenchuan is not dead yet.
Distant arrival
I am a person who grew up in a city. I am used to seeing many tall buildings in my field of vision. I like to see the colorful night scenes of this city. When I walked through those commercial streets, I was proud of the city in my heart.
But when I knock on the keyboard, I often feel the clicking sound of wheat ears under the harvester. It's fuzzy. It's the sound of memory.
Click click ... it's the rhythmic sound of the train on the tracks. From far, far away, come here.
When I was a child, I often took the train and went to many distant places. In order to reach the city, we crossed countless villages. Outside the window are golden wheat fields, tall wheat piles in the fields, docile cattle and sheep, simple and humble houses, and scarecrows guarding the wheat fields. Even, you can see the sunshine pouring on the petals of sunflower, and the petals tremble slightly, as if time flows from one piece to another in an instant.
The countryside, like a distant image, exists in the stream of consciousness. Where the eyes can't reach, they are all done by imagination. Yes, those memories of the countryside, in Van Gogh's paintings and in distant songs, have become confused and more and more idealistic.
The song sings melodiously: whatever can't be reached is called far away, and what can't be returned is called hometown. In my dream, I found that the countryside is the hometown that people have forgotten in the distance.
Looking back, the countryside is the place where people can get closest to the earth. For thousands of years, simple people, with their backs to the sun, have completely delivered their most loyal beliefs and simple feelings to this land.
Milan? Kundera said in The Unbearable Lightness of Life that the closer our life is to the earth, the more real it is.
The attachment to the city and the infatuation with the countryside have always been entangled in people's blood. People are exposed to the city and the fast-paced life every day, but the city brings them disappointment and strangeness every day. When they are tired, they always yearn for the countryside, hoping to feel all the primitive and simple things there. The countryside gives them a sense of security that they can be close to the earth.
However, things are always changing, buildings are built in a unified style that is no longer consistent with wheat fields, and the curves of field paths become stiff. People look at the present countryside with a disappointed expression. Those pictures that disappeared in memory became eternal pains in the heart, and thus became places that people could never reach.
In order to reach the countryside, now we not only have to pass through countless cities.
Invisible city
"Kublai Khan has noticed that almost all cities in Polo and Kyle are the same, as if you can move from one city to another without traveling by changing the combination elements."
When Icano Calvino wrote this sentence, this sentence, despite my arrogance, was tired of this city, just like an eternal prophecy, which covered us tightly. One hundred years later, we live in a highly urbanized era, with modern attributes flowing in our blood. We moved from this city to that city, and then moved from that city to further places. This endless migratory bird cycle always ends in the same ending-rusty thoughts and youth are abandoned by reality again and again and strangled in a room in the reinforced concrete jungle. The city, still a monotonous building block, stands in a cold form.
Are we too busy? It is the fear of the city, climbing and fleeing in horror on the modern civilization of the inverted triangle; It is the desire of the city that fights fiercely in the splendor of gold and jade; In Baudelaire's works, the cruelty of the city is silently queued. No one, no one here, to touch any city, invisible corner.
The invisible city is the pulse of the city. Kyle once moved to say that Zobede's streets, like white wool, also support the residents' real dreams of looking forward to the future; I personally felt that the gurgling sound of small bridges and flowing water in Old Town of Lijiang is also telling the Millennium peace of water and soil here. Faced with these vivid exceptions, do we not know what we are losing, or do we already know?
The invisible city is the dream of the city. The infinite dream may make all the population and GDP meaningless, and the touch of the city is not unified by independent individuals. In my dream, London is just a red flag in Trafalgar, new york is just a hanging day in Manhattan, and Hangzhou is just a scene of thousands of people working hard before a rainstorm in June.
The invisible city is the true feelings of the city. This truth has been frozen by complex relational banks for too long. Once released, it will reach every corner of the city irresistibly-this antenna is a longing for love, a longing for true knowledge and an irresistible sympathy for human suffering. Just like facing the fragmented city, we shed tears. At this moment, Beichuan has a significance beyond geographical coordinates and has become a standing monument.
Invisible cities can be touched at any time. To go back to our past or find our future, please touch.
Feel the countryside
At first, I thought the countryside was a fairyland of fairy tales. It has faded away the glitz of the city and washed away the complexity of the world. It may be Al on Van Gogh's canvas, the blue sky as clear as a mirror, and the gorgeous sea of flowers as oil painting. Golden sunflowers, nourished by sunshine, have grown seeds of hope. It may be an idyll in Tao Qian's poems, which tells the story of a fairy couple in the fog. The oblique sunshine is light and leisurely.
It's just a village in poetry. When we really walk into the village and feel the village with our heart, we will find that our village is experiencing pain. There is also sunshine, which is not warm but viciously roasting the earth. Looking from a distance, the swaying figure on the earth is tired of its heart in the morning and evening, in spring and autumn. He grew up in this land, and his sweat nourished this land; He learned to be strong in this land, and his steps strengthened this land; He was born in the loess and returned to the loess, which has been endless for generations. When the storm came, his heart trembled like a swaying crop in the field, and tears crossed the cheeks of the ravine, drowning his heart and his breath layer by layer like water drowning the field. When the drought came, the crops shook like his thin body. He can't see hope and gain, and his confused eyes are dry and empty.
They are sometimes happy, but this happiness seems so humble. Their greatest happiness is a bumper harvest. Full particles are like gems, and the corners of the eyes smile like crescent moons. What they want most is good weather, and they just want to live an ordinary life.
Faced with such a picture, will such a country let us down? In fact, the countryside is more real because of this cruel beauty. Feel the countryside, don't always be a leisurely tourist. While appreciating its tranquility and purity, we should pay more attention to its pain and give it more understanding and sympathy.
Feel the countryside, feel the pulse of farming civilization, feel the most vigorous cry of China, feel the massiness of that land, and feel the blood and sweat of that land; Feel the most simple persistence and perseverance of farmers in China, and feel the pain and helplessness experienced by farmers in China.
When we looked at them with disdain, did it ever occur to us that they brought us hope for life with sweat and blood?
With the most humble attitude, we can see that China has become an eternal farmer in history, and let us feel the countryside with our heart!
conduct oneself
When my grandfather died, my grandmother talked to him in a low voice all night, or looked at him as if time had stood still.
When I was a child, I liked to go to my grandfather's house. Grandpa knows many interesting things, and grandma is a superb cook. Every time I listen to Grandpa happily finish a paragraph, Grandpa and grandchildren are hungry. So grandpa crept into the kitchen, grabbed some freshly fried chicken chops while grandma was away, and came back to share them with me like a child.
Several times, my grandfather was "stolen" by my grandmother and had to be beaten by my grandmother. Then we obediently set the table for dinner. At that time, I was really happy.
Sometimes it takes grandma a long time to buy food. Grandpa was so anxious that he couldn't sit still and looked out of the window, hoping to see grandma. However, when I learned that my grandmother had come to Wan Li not far to buy our favorite authentic beef, my grandfather smiled again.
However, later, grandpa went to another world that he could never touch again.
The first time I didn't eat grandpa's meal, I ate it in a hotel. Grandma came, but she was unhappy. Grandpa was missing from the tableware prepared for everyone, but when the waiter brought a chair, grandma refused and thanked her.
Grandma said, "The old man told me in his dream last night that he wanted to eat, too. He should be glad that you all remember what he wants to eat. However, the old man said that he would share a chair with me, which is enough ... "Grandma is a simple person, but her words impressed me more than any famous book.
curiosity
Curiosity is undoubtedly a heart that wants to know what it doesn't know. If we only focus on this point, it seems to me that most men, women and children of all ages have such a "heart".
There is a kind of "curiosity", which is most common in Lu Xun's articles; It is curiosity that drives people to watch "beheading programs" first; It is curiosity that drives neighbors to listen to Xianglinsao's crying; It is also curiosity that drives Ah Q's "revolution". However, perhaps these can only be called "curiosity", but the "heart" is lost. This kind of "curiosity" is based on prying into the sufferings of others, and it is based on the darkness and ignorance of an "iron house". If this is really "curiosity", then there is no such thing.
What about the world? Such "curiosity" is also everywhere. Joan of Arc on the stake satisfied the curiosity of medieval people; The roaring quasimodo satisfied the curiosity of all living things. This kind of "curiosity" seems to have become the world language of "single-minded". What is written in this language is ignorance, mediocrity, decline and lifelessness.
Question: What is real curiosity?
True curiosity needs observation. There is no shortage of beauty in the world, just the lack of eyes to find beauty. If you look closely, even the most common things will become "magic". In ancient times, ancestors looked up at the starry sky, explored the mystery of the illusion of stars, and tasted the elegance of gathering clouds; Up to now, we wave to another planet through a telescope and perceive the microscopic universe through a microscope. It can be said that without observation tools and help us to observe better, Curiosity will close the window in the atrium and cover it with dust.
True curiosity requires thinking. If "the splendid starry sky above us" is an infinite stage for our observation, then "the moral law in our hearts" is the only way to inspire and restrain us to deepen our observation results. As Pascal said, "thinking makes people great, and all our dignity lies in thinking-even if you are just a reed under the strong nature." If there is no such thinking under the condition of "the soul is present", then no matter how many apples fall, I am afraid that the discovery of "gravity" will not be found; No matter how hard human beings observe and learn, it is difficult to have the slightest creativity and progress.
True curiosity is not "curiosity". There is no such thing as "exploring" the sufferings of others and trampling on the truth with a mediocre or ignorant attitude. Its existence needs the eyes of observation to locate and the mind of the thinker to show its value.
With such curiosity, difficulties can be solved, progress can be made, and human beings can better survive and maintain their dignity. ...
There is a saying in Hamlet: "In a shell, you think you are the king of the infinite universe." Perhaps, it is because of real "curiosity" that we can burst into such a stronger cry.
Moreover, because of curiosity, our world is much wider than a shell.
[brief comment]
This is a normative argumentative essay. This year is also very rare. The author has profound thoughts and unique opinions. The discussion is gradual and logical. The use case is vivid and in place, which can strongly support its central argument. The article is lively and free, and it is dry without preaching. Future senior three students should be inspired by it. (Xue Mingde)
curiosity
A thick and old notebook aroused my curiosity.
She can't live without it. She took it with her in class; She always turns it over when eating; When studying at night, she will add a lot of content to it; What about before going to bed? I will definitely take it.
What exactly did this note say? Curiosity impelled me to understand.
During a break, she left the classroom and left in a hurry. She lay flat on the platform quietly. Go and have a look. Curiosity drove me to the podium. Peeking at other people's privacy is not what a gentleman does, so I hesitate again. It lay there motionless, covered with dense words.
I looked askance at my classmates. They seem to have the same curiosity, but they haven't put it into action. After all, it belongs to the teacher.
Now that I am standing on the podium, there is no reason to go back empty-handed, I said to myself. "Hey, look, what does it say!" A classmate's eyes lit up and reminded me carefully. My will is stronger. "You, go and help me keep an eye on the wind." I told that classmate. "Ok, don't worry." Then he rushed out of the classroom and stood in the corridor looking around, his eyes rolling around. I strode confidently onto the platform, narrowed my eyes slightly and looked at the dense lines of words.
"XXX, delicate heart, not strong enough. Be careful not to blame her too much. "
"×× (my name), smart but not practical, should be guided in good faith and not hurt the child's self-esteem."
Turn over a page. "My classmate cheated in the exam today. I blame him. My heart is in a mess. How can I make him understand my heart? "
Turning over a page again, "the child is not feeling well today, but the school is too busy." Remember to remind the child's grandmother to go home and look after him. "
"Soon, my children will take the college entrance examination. How can I encourage them? "
……
I stopped looking down. This is the teacher's diary. I actually peeked at the teacher's "secret"! My eyes are unconsciously moist.
How many days and nights has she worked for us, and how many sleepless nights? How can she have the heart to give up her small family for everyone, even if the child is ill? How strong is she, hiding a fiery heart with a stern appearance? Why is her figure getting thinner and thinner and her temples getting gray? At this time, I already have the answer in my heart.
Teacher, she honed our gravel with sincerity and made us a bright pearl.
I used my curiosity to gain understanding and respect for my teacher. Thank you, my dear teacher!
[brief comment]
This year's college entrance examination composition, "peeking" parents, teachers, classmates diaries, private articles, but most of them are mediocre, and some of them are "doing". Although this article is short, the plot is complete and tortuous, and the living atmosphere is real and sensible; The hesitation of "I", the encouragement of classmates' eyes and the mystery of "watching" are all written vividly and flexibly, so they can outperform others in similar compositions. (Pan Dachun)
curiosity
The person sitting at my front desk didn't come to the exam? ! Looking at the empty seats and blank answer sheets in front of me, my curiosity is ready to move.
Is she (he) afraid?
If so, I can only express understanding but disagree. Our session is the first high school curriculum reform in Jiangsu province, which is similar to the "white mouse" in scientific experiments. The content of the textbook and the examination form are brand-new, and both teachers and students are crossing the river by feeling the stones. How many people are truly confident? However, we can't escape because of these uncertainties. The college entrance examination is terrible, but it is also cute to think about it. It means that we can finally say goodbye to countless homework, endless night lessons and endless papers! We can finally compete with our peers in the fairest way and prove our strength! Chairman Mao put it well, "Count romantic figures and look at the present"! So for the college entrance examination, we don't have to be afraid now!
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I still have a lot, but there are too many words to send out. Please contact me if the landlord wants more.