I remember the first class was music class. The teacher is a handsome young man. He walked from the blackboard full of staff to the piano, played a few phrases, and then opened his mouth to lead the singer. His voice is so beautiful and boring. We already know that he has just been classified as a rightist and is under review. When he is in class, people often shake their heads at the window of our classroom. The music teacher just sings when watching, and the singing sound is even more strange. Three weeks later, we were told that the music teacher was not coming. In music class, we went to the corner of the playground to practice chorus. Chorus Lyrics Day: "1957, what a victorious year ..."
Before long, other courses will be difficult to carry out normally. The marble fountain has stopped spraying water, a pig shed has been set up next to it, and a steelmaking furnace has been built next to it. Senior students raise pigs and make steel. Our task is to collect scrap iron in the street as raw materials for steelmaking.
At that time, all the people were making steel. The country * * * issued a call to catch up with Britain in 15 years and catch up with the United States in 20 years, but did not understand the situation in Britain and the United States. It only believed in one sentence, and the sign of catching up with it was to look at the steel output, so it concentrated on fighting annihilation, and steelmaking was everywhere in China. The iron gate in the alley and the iron shelf on the balcony of each household were smashed down as raw materials. Where can we children find iron? Whoever finds a rusty nail is a treasure. After a few months, I got very little, and the steel refined by the fountain was an ugly black pimple. So the school changed its direction according to the instructions of its superiors, and asked students to work in a nearby factory, saying that it was necessary to combine education with productive labor and could not sit in the classroom all the time.
The teachers set about discussing with various factories, hoping that they would accept our labor. So many teenagers are rushing to the workshop, so they can't work and it's not safe, so the factory naturally doesn't welcome them. The teachers can only plead again and again with red faces, until the factory directors are moved by the sudden memories of their early teachers before agreeing to let us work for a few months. After all, no, the factory soon issued an expulsion order, so the teacher had to find another one. In this way, the factories turned around, and by the third day, almost all the factories around the school were done. There are classes outside of work. The teacher knows that there is not much time, and always grabs that little class time in his hand like a treasure. Those teachers are all highly educated. As far as I can remember, they all have extraordinary manners and excellent lectures. In the crack of labor, in just three years, our writing ability has reached the level of fluency to almost no grammatical errors. Math is better. When you walk on the road, you can draw a series of famous geometric problems with pebbles on the ground with your classmates and prove them noisily.
In high school, I changed to a school closer to home. This school used to be a girls' middle school, only for boys. The headmaster is a female teacher. It is said that she is the wife of a famous rightist and was born in Cambridge, England. Not long after we entered the school, she couldn't be the principal, but she was still busy every day. We just watched, trying to find the reactionary shadow of the teacher's gait and behavior. When we met head-on, we called "hello, teacher", and she immediately replied, looking straight at us, which took longer than other teachers to reply. Our eyes immediately avoided, thinking that this is probably an ulterior motive.
The replacement principal is also a lady, dressed in rags. When she was in War of Resistance against Japanese Aggression, she joined the guerrillas in the suburbs of Shanghai. When she gave us a report, her mouth was full of incomprehensible rural accent. But she seldom gives reports, just a few words, saying that she has no education and wants us to study hard. She walked in the campus, expressionless, looking stiff and timid, but as soon as she saw her classmates bow to her, she immediately smiled. The advantage of the headmaster is that he never interferes with the classroom content, while the teachers take the opportunity to break away from the official text and join a large number of "extracurricular counseling materials". In official texts, newspaper editorials are the main language, while political slogans are the main English language. Through "extra-curricular tutoring materials", we have quietly learned the whole Analects of Confucius, recited Qu Yuan's Li Sao, and even learned one to four volumes of Shi Li Jing Yao, which came in somehow at that time. Mr. Sun Jue, an English teacher, insists on the London accent with strange enthusiasm and laughs at the American accent every time. But it was in his ridicule that we also got a general understanding of what an American accent is.
This year's alma mater's celebration, it is with these intermittent memories that I re-entered the school that I left for more than 30 years. Unexpectedly, it was these memories that brought endless disasters to teachers during the Cultural Revolution. I also feel uncomfortable with the insults suffered by teachers, that is, using words to repeat them. There is only one thing that can be laughed at: our math teacher, Miss Huisheng Cao, is notoriously indifferent to politics. When we were studying, he was very particular about clothes and hairstyle, and even the posture of holding chalk was as beautiful as that of a musician holding a baton, which made the female students who had just learned something always look at him with a red face and stupidity. The "Cultural Revolution" came, and he didn't make any contribution. After several years of criticism, he was finally invited to the podium. He decided to turn over a new leaf and teach math. So in the first function class, he introduced the most popular concept at that time: "We have a handful of class enemies in Shanghai, a handful in Jiangsu, a handful in Zhejiang and a handful in Anhui. They got together for the sake of four petty enemies ... "He thought that this lecture finally cared about politics, but was criticized after class:" The superiors never said that they were just a handful of petty class enemies, but you made four petty enemies, clearly and clearly.
This time, as soon as I entered the school, I met Teacher Cao. I only greeted him a few times and wanted to confirm the truth of the above rumors. Mr. Cao said seriously, "No.. I didn't say four at that time, but five, especially from Shandong, because the master of the propaganda team who came to attend the class was from Shandong, and he was temporarily added for fear that he would be left out. I didn't expect him to criticize me the most. "
Teacher Cao is old, but I can recognize him at a glance. I think the fundamental reason is that the students' eyes and hearts are still very pure, the brand is very clear, and they will not lose their books when wandering around. Of course, this is aimed at the main course teachers, but many non-main course teachers are a little unrecognizable. Most of these non-main teachers have retired. Today, they came here specially, standing quietly on the side of the road and at the corner of the stairs, hoping that the students in the past would recognize them. As soon as my eyes collided with them, I immediately felt their expectation, so I quickly caught up with them, shouting "teacher" and trying to remember their surnames as quickly as possible. For example, electric shock, fire breathing, sometimes I recall it in half a second, breathe out loudly, and immediately feel the warm hand of the old man shaking slightly in my palm. However, it is more often to disappoint the elderly. At this time, I thought, as a student, I can make any mistakes, but I must not call an elderly teacher by his last name many years after graduation.
An old teacher looked at me for a long time in the corner of the playground and hurried to meet me. "Li …" I was about to call him "Miss Li" kindly, but I stopped at once, because it suddenly occurred to me that this was not his last name, but his nickname: Lebknecht. Students will naughtily give teachers some nicknames, which are mostly caused by teachers' lectures. Most importantly, it is disrespectful to secretly call a chubby biology teacher with glasses a paramecium. At present, this teacher teaches world history. When it comes to Lebknecht, his pronunciation is particularly fluent and beautiful, so he got this nickname. I don't remember his last name. I only remember that at that time, we teenagers heard rumors that this teacher was a famous judge in the old society and one of the editors of the Six Laws, which had serious political and historical problems. How did such a great man end up teaching history in middle school? I often look at his eyes curiously in class. His eyes were calm and melancholy, ethereal and desolate. At that time, I was already interested in philosophy, and I couldn't understand many problems. I thought only he could help me. I still remember how surprised he was when he was stopped to ask a philosophical question that day. He looked at me with wide eyes for a long time, then pulled me to the edge of the trees, and quickly recommended a foreign philosophy book to me, telling me which library I could borrow it from. Today, when I mentioned the past again, he remembered it all. He also said that every time I saw my name in the newspaper, I always wanted to tell me that there were several mistakes in that philosophy book. "My name is not Li, but Du Xianyu. I am old, I am 82 years old this year. "
The situation of the elderly, the most should be asked and the most inconvenient to ask. I didn't see a few teachers I am most familiar with in those days, and I was secretly uneasy, but I only dared to leave half my mind to look for them quietly in the warm scene. One more search and one more surprise. My Chinese teacher, Mr. Mooney, passed away last year. Today, a middle-aged woman came to see me at the celebration. She is Mr. Mooney's daughter. She said that Mr Mooney left several messages before he died to transfer all his books to me. My classmates and I were shocked, because we all know that it is a huge collection of books similar to a library. Mr. Mooney has been poor all his life, all to buy these books; His family has been confined in a narrow space that is difficult to turn around for decades, all for stacking these books. He collects books, not to write books, but to prepare lessons and prepare for Chinese classes in middle schools. When he could no longer use these books to prepare lessons, he decided to give them all to a student who he thought had better grades. Of course, I can't really accept this priceless gift, and I can't even handle my own library now, but I still feel heavy in the face of Mr. Mooney's daughter: I have only visited my teacher once or twice since I graduated, and the teacher's last words suddenly made this balance of human nature seriously unbalanced. The biggest imbalance between heaven and earth in human beings first arises between parents and children, followed by teachers and students. When children and students painfully discover this imbalance, most of them can't make up for it.
Suddenly, I stopped: Jiang Qing, the teacher who came to teach chemistry, didn't learn chemistry well. After 30 years, I still have awe of her. Teacher Jiang is thin and elegant, still wearing those glasses and smiling so generously. "There is one thing I want to apologize to you." She said, "A few years ago, when you were the dean, I met a group of students from your college in a restaurant. They make a lot of noise, have no order, and push the first customers aside. Their voices always contain your name. I have no choice. I went over to tell them to keep order and told them that as students of your dean, they don't have to show off so much. I am your dean's teacher and qualified to educate you-you see, I used your name in an inappropriate place. "
I quickly asked, and the result? Teacher Jiang said, "These children are good. I thought they would call me a liar and scold me. No, they immediately became quiet and stood behind us. " I smiled comfortingly, imagining the majesty of teacher Jiang's gentle voice that I got in chemistry class thirty years ago.
But, Mr. Jiang, you have never been a liar. Why do you apologize? You don't know, since I accidentally got a nickname when I was a student, there are actually a few people who haven't given me lessons who are keen to be my teachers and fill my tracks, and the more they say it, the more bizarre it becomes. My name, which was criticized or praised by you in class, has been floating on the covers of various pirated books for a long time, appearing in front of film and television works that I have never "directed" or "consulted", and even inexplicably became the banner of fund-raising. Therefore, I fully understand why female students in their early fifties suddenly sobbed like children when they met their teachers. You are undoubtedly my teacher. Watching me grow up, my name is the truest only when it is called out in your mouth. I am glad that you can publicly announce that I am your student. I also want to thank my naughty students, who immediately calmed down and didn't embarrass my teacher, so they also won face for me. I know them too well. They are tall, loud, careless and feel too good about themselves, but they are basically very sensible and reasonable. They can only understand the students' responsibilities with a little exclamation. Thank you, my student.