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The color of the butterfly mainly tells me that I am young and have a heavy academic burden. I go to school early and come home late every day, and I have to study for fear that the teacher will slap me again. At that time, the study days were really hard, and I often wanted to cry and even think of death. But seeing the teacher's beautiful dress and wanting to stay up until I am twenty years old, I will be free and feel better. At this time, I feel happy and have the motivation to live. But in the face of uncertain teachers, I feel that it is not easy to live to the age of twenty, so I feel that life is dark and I don't know how to live. The teacher's punishment gradually subsided, and her love made me feel confused. The teacher was caught tutoring at night. Her red eyes told me that she was also doing it for our own good. After graduation, the teacher is so good that I have everything he once had. Suddenly I feel that my life has become so colorful, like a silkworm chrysalis turning into a butterfly. I finally came to a life of bondage, and I felt much better at once. After reading this article, I understand that the beauty behind the difficulties is as painful as the process of silkworm chrysalis metamorphosis, but when the cocoon fades, everything becomes so beautiful, so we must believe that after experiencing a series of difficulties, the future will be gorgeous, as wonderful as a butterfly, just like there will always be sunshine after the storm. Now we have to go through countless exams and face heavy pressure, which is painful for the time being, but in the end, on the day when we get good grades, everything will be bright and happy. We should stick to it and have a bright future.
I wrote it myself. . . Responder: Memory 7 Error | Level1| 2011-2-27 00: 05
In the evening, I took out San Mao's "Rainy Season Don't Come" and read an article about her primary school called "The Color of Butterflies". It turns out that Sanmao's primary school is also very different from mine. She got up at 5: 30 in the dark. In the early morning of early winter, on the rainy ground, she hunched slightly, carrying two lunches, a kettle and a small black umbrella in big bags, which was extremely difficult. ......
I followed Sanmao's brush strokes and slowly returned to my primary school. My primary school came from a temple before the Cultural Revolution, which was destroyed and later changed into a primary school. Maybe the winters in Chinese mainland and Taiwan Province are the same, and both are rainy seasons. Like Sanmao, I am woken up by my mother before dawn every morning, and my mother helps me get dressed. At that time, I couldn't get dressed. My mother is afraid that I will be cold at school, so I always wear the left and right ones on my body and a cotton-padded jacket outside. Hot water has been poured into the washbasin. After washing, I always remember how my parents washed my face and always wiped my nose at last. Breakfast is ready. It's scrambled egg rice. That's the best breakfast. There is no breakfast at Sanmao's, and there is a glass of milk. At that time I didn't even know what milk was, let alone what cows looked like.
After breakfast, I carry a big schoolbag on my back, because I can't carry a lunch box in one hand and hold an umbrella in the other like Sanmao. My mother buttoned my iron lunch box and put it in my schoolbag. Mother will burn a charcoal in the stove and put it in a round stove with a red cover, with a rope around her neck and put the stove in her clothes. Wow, how warm it is! Everything is ready. Staggering on the road with a big umbrella and rain boots. When I go to school, sometimes my clothes get wet. I'm not very good at playing an umbrella, and I still can't play an umbrella. Rain or shine, I always get to school early and never arrive late. Take part in morning reading, read the text in the morning, and the teacher will recite it. If you recite, the teacher will tick the title of the text with a red pen and write the date next to it. Our teacher also has the same weapon as Teacher San Mao-a bamboo pointer. If the back is wrong, the teacher will hit the palm with a bamboo pointer, which is light or heavy, depending on the teacher's mood. After the fight, I went back to my desk with my head down and continued to work hard until I put the sacred hook on it. Speaking of endorsement, I think of a Chinese teacher. One day, a classmate ran to the lecture table to endorse, and the teacher looked up at the classmate at the table and signaled to start. The teacher continued to keep the original action. After the classmates recited it for a few minutes, the accident happened. That classmate stood there for more than ten minutes, and the teacher fell asleep, haha ~ stop laughing, the teacher is still alive, don't let him see it! I thought it was an accident. Later, I heard from my senior friend that he stood there for more than ten minutes. Haha, now it is estimated that all the interesting things I told my primary school classmates at that time will be mentioned.
The morning class is finally over. It's time for dinner. I take out my lunch box, which is always filled with meals carefully prepared by my mother, and always eats all the food in the lunch box. The familiar iron lunch box came back to my eyes. I remember there were a pair of twin brothers and sisters in our class at that time. Every time, each of them will bring a big goose egg. They always want to know why the goose egg is so big that our mouths are watering. I sat next to them and watched them eat ... I have never eaten goose eggs until now.
When it rains, my father will pick me up after school at night. Before class, I will see my father waiting outside the window. After class, all the students rushed out of the classroom. After I packed my schoolbag, I followed my father, took it from me, put my hand on my shoulder and walked home. When I got home, I began to do today's homework after dinner. Sometimes when it rains, there is no electricity. I lit a candle and began to do my homework on the table. I copied the new words in the text one by one in Tian Zi's book. That kind of writing is rolled up. It is especially difficult for me to write when it is curled up. Sometimes I pick up my right hand and press it on the book. My right hand doesn't listen to me. I accidentally scratched the book, and my mother watched me write. Writing a snot and tears, while writing in the notebook, while biting the eraser on the pen, watching the shadow in candlelight shed tears from time to time. I don't know how many words I wrote, but there was a cocoon on my left little finger. I don't know what time it is after finishing my homework. . . The day finally ended in my sleep.
At that time, it seemed very popular to take us to the playground with stools when the sun was shining, and sit in rows on the multiplication table. Many students want to pull their eyelids when they answer wrong. I am one of them. Sanmao was also pulled by her teacher, ha.
It said that tears came from the corner of my eye unconsciously.
Sanmao wrote an article in an homework class. She said: "I thought that I was so far away at the age of twenty that I probably died before I could put on my stockings. Such a long wait is an endless tunnel ... I can't reach the age of twenty ... "
She said later that no matter how slowly the days passed, one day she found herself twenty years old, with two pairs of high and low shoes, a very light lipstick and a pair of small plaid stockings. ......
"... all kinds of butterflies have become swarms of butterflies. Although I have long understood that life in the world is fleeting and butterflies are fleeting, I am still dazzled by its color and feel that all the mysteries and beauty of life are revealed in the transformation. Many colorful butterflies are flying at the foot of Shamao Mountain. In this way, I survived year after year, just for the color of the butterfly when it was reborn. "
In the second 20 years, she was hospitalized in 199 1 because of illness, and she was strangled by stockings in the hospital and died of suffocation. At the age of 48.
Recently, reading San Mao's "The rainy season never comes again" often moved me. My rainy season has passed.