When I was a child, every time I started school, I always carefully selected the most elegant and beautiful one from piles of colorful Bao Shu papers and put it on my Chinese schoolbag. When I turn over Chinese books, I always turn them slowly, for fear of disturbing the beautiful words in them. And every day, I am also eagerly waiting for the arrival of Chinese class. That kind of mood is no less than millions of fans looking forward to a concert that Jay Chou will bring soon.
When the third semester of senior high school starts, it is the season when it should snow. But there is no trace of snow on the depressed land, probably because ice and snow have lived in my heart.
I came to the new school with the failure of the exam. The first class was Chinese.
At that time, he happened to teach poetry appreciation, and I knew a little about poetry. Because the previous poetry teacher always made some small mistakes, I don't have much affection for the teacher's poetry. But in order to make a better impression on the new teacher, I still listened to the lecture with my chin cupped. Looking at the handsome man on the podium, I wonder if this class is as good-looking as he is.
The procedure in class is very simple. He gave us enough time to savor a poem, and when we racked our brains to say nothing, he led us to discover the mystery and feel the emotion from some special words. There are only about three or four songs in a class, which is not much, but everything he says is a fresh and pure spring, which makes people feel very comfortable and useful.
Simple, a class has passed. To my surprise, he didn't make any mistakes, which made me feel ashamed of my previous disdain for him. In fact, mistakes are very common, but there were too many mistakes made by the teacher before, which made me a little disgusted with the classroom. But this contrast makes me look forward to the Chinese classroom again.
As time went on, I took many Chinese classes. From "poetry" to "scientific literature" to "modern literature" in the classroom, from class to campus, there will always be laughter for various reasons. With more and more Chinese classes in my life, I gradually found that Mr. Zhao Can taught the originally boring review class vividly. I can't help feeling sorry for not attending his Chinese class for more than two years.
A spoonful of carefully prepared new tea, coupled with a gentle sentence like a clear spring in a mountain stream, has become the best fragrant tea in Chinese class.
In the cold winter, I hold this cup of warm and fragrant tea to keep warm in Chinese class.
The weather is getting warmer, and the grass is poking out a piece of green joy on the land that is suddenly cold and warm. This deep spring scenery is quite different from the cold wind when I first arrived. I sit quietly in the classroom, waiting anxiously and quietly for the arrival of every Chinese class every day, just like Cinderella longs for the arrival of the fairy. Open the book, let go of your thoughts and go to a feast that belongs to him. Sometimes I will see Mr. Zhao leaning against the window, the warm spring quietly pouring on him, and then listen to him explain his words. Words as delicate and warm as hot springs flow through my heart and cause ripples in my heart.
I have been dishonest in class. In a Chinese class, after finishing the task, I began to watch Huang Jingren's Feeling Old. "The front belt of the wind is a concentric knot, and the person at the bottom of the cup is like a flower." I whispered softly. Then suddenly came the voice of Miss Zhao behind her. I am curious to test Mr. Zhao's language ability and see his reaction to love poems. Before I could consider the consequences, I turned to the poem with a smile and asked, "What does this sentence mean?"
He hasn't read this poem. Clever as Mr. Zhao is, he picked out important words from this poem and began to guess and understand. Guess what, the words "the man at the bottom of the cup" don't mean anything. He smiled easily and said, "I'll check it for you later."
Teacher Zhao has been busy with his work, and I thought he would forget it. But this time I was wrong. I was only in the middle of my class, and he called me out of the classroom just after class to answer his unfinished answers.
The recess is very short. Mr. Zhao patiently finished the allusions used in each of the four poems on this topic and the emotions written in each word in a very urgent tone. This serious attitude has increased my admiration for him by ten points.
That afternoon, I had nothing to do on campus. A photo of the teacher on the bulletin board made me walk past again. I looked up and down, and my free eyes were instantly fixed on that handsome photo. It seems that only the breeze in the south of the Yangtze River and the book fragrance can describe this clear and straight face, and there is a kind of bold and unrestrained grassland and pastoral carving in the brow.
Locked in front of my eyes is a handsome face, and printed in my heart is the sentence "Being the best teacher is my lifelong wish and the greatest motivation". It is easy to make this simple wish, but how easy is it to realize this true oath? No wonder Mr. Zhao attaches so much importance to students' problems. Looking back on his earnest attitude when he spoke poetry, I only felt that a sweet mountain spring slipped by, as if it were immersed in it, nourishing my heart all the time.
Conscientiousness and responsibility are indeed the greatest characteristics of Mr. Zhao. In addition to teaching students carefully, he also writes and recites things carefully.
In the past, regardless of whether the handwriting was good or not, teachers always solved the problem quickly as soon as they wrote, and then they couldn't wait to give lectures. Sometimes the word "fly" makes us worry about taking notes because of myopia.
Miss Zhao, who has always been leisurely, speaks in an orderly way and engraves her own fonts on the blackboard or test paper when writing.
Maybe near the ink, near Zhu Zhechi. After a long time, the speed of writing has also changed. The gradual beauty of the composition paper is his credit and my progress.
After studying Chinese for more than ten years, I like writing typos best and hate looking up dictionaries most. When you encounter uncommon words, you usually turn a blind eye. At this time, if Miss Zhao happens to pass by, she will ask these rare words by the way. Later, I looked up the definitions of these words in the dictionary several times and found that Mr. Zhao's expression was exactly the same as the definition in the dictionary, and there was no addition or subtraction of words. At that time, I was both surprised and more impressed by worship.
Later, I simply regarded Mr. Zhao as a walking dictionary, but I don't know how many learned people are hidden under those glasses.
The numbers on the countdown card range from three digits to two digits, from "92" to "29". For me, the flight of time has brought more than oppression to a tense life.
These days, Mr. Zhao began to talk about the remaining days as soon as he started class. Counting, except for the time of exams and lectures, there are only ten Chinese classes that can really speak something.
And I have long been attracted by Mr. Zhao's interesting and rich Chinese class. The short review time naturally makes me a little tired by this tense atmosphere, but this tired mood is also permeated with nostalgia and melancholy.
When a person is thinking silently, it suddenly occurs to him that he has only ten Chinese classes to listen to and only ten Chinese classes to enjoy, and tears can't help bursting into his eyes.
In summer, the weather is getting hotter and hotter, and the delicate flowers can't stand the high temperature of the sun. Only Magnolia grandiflora can bloom in the hot sun. In this high temperature, people will sweat a little even if they walk in the corridor outside the classroom for a while.
Strangely, in the last math class or physics class, people always feel that the temperature seems to have risen a few degrees again, and most of the students around them are blushing and sweating. However, if we have a Chinese class and listen to Mr. Zhao's whispering, people's hearts will soon be brand-new, just like a traveler who has trudged in the desert for a long time, suddenly getting the coolness of the Tianshan snow water permeated with moonlight.
The weather continues to get hot, and I am still looking forward to the arrival of Chinese class every day, listening to the cool spring water flowing in Mr. Zhao's heart and quietly enjoying the last temperature that Chinese class can bring me in the last period of time in this middle school.