Dear readers, what would you do if you weren't stupid when you met a child in second grade and found that his homework was written "1+1=3"?
You'd break his little finger and ask him what it was? The answer was one after another finger out, and he answered it the same way. Two fingers add up to ask him to count, and when he says two, you must be comforted: the child is not stupid, knows the answer, just writes wrong. I thought the same thing.
Asking the child to correct it when I thought he knew, he looked at me blankly. So I pointed to the question, and he read "one plus one equals three."
"How much does one plus one equal?" I asked patiently.
Then he pointed at the question and tried to correct it, which turned out to subvert my perception of "one plus one equals three!" Thinking that his understanding and the child's understanding were not on the same line, he immediately rewrote it again and let him do it, and the result was still three, which was completely the rhythm of the mother.
I can still control my emotions for a simple thing, but if the teacher sees me and talks about my son's shortcomings, I have the idea of finding a hole in the ground. Opening a shop opposite the school, looking down and not looking up, how embarrassing and uncomfortable it is to imagine.
If the elders aggravate the spicy sauce during the day and choke me breathlessly, it is inevitable that the child will be scolded. After scolding, I regret it: I am afraid of damaging my child's self-esteem, I am afraid that my child will lose my self-confidence, and I am afraid of my child's autism...
The boss who didn't understand things at the most intense time coldly said "Deserved!" Who told you to give birth so much? "No doubt, this is a push on the rhythm of driving madness alive.
In that summer hot winter cold rental house. Right! Readers, you read that right, it is a rental house in the cold winter and hot summer, the prefabricated board on the roof of the rental house, and in the summer from morning to night, there is no cover, so the summer is a steamer. The doors are dilapidated, the walls leak in some places, and the house has no shelter, so the north wind blows in the winter without hesitation. There was no water, no toilets, no kitchens. When it rains, it rains heavily outside and light rains inside. I worked five to ten every day, alone with three children, doing housework, busy with business... Even the harsh environment did not change my pursuit of life.
At this scene, the boss's words stung my heart, and I was frantic in my heart, constantly asking myself: Do you really deserve it? What am I doing with so many children? Why should I get married? Asking myself a few times and answering myself was fruitless, because reality was there, I couldn't turn things around, and I couldn't turn back the clock. Also countless times fantasize if... But life doesn't have ifs... So, even though the road ahead was full of thorns, even if life knocked my body and mind all over, I still persevered. Wake up early in the morning and stay up the day, hoping that night will come.
Day after day, year after year. Self-consolation: Children will definitely be better when they grow up.
When the child grows a little older, he will look at me like a bull, squinting at me with his head tilted, gritting his teeth and clenching his fists. Angry at me: "Do you want to fight?" Fight! Fight! "In this situation I often can't help but itch my hands. Of course, he will not fight back. Others will think that I am out of breath and should be relieved.
On the contrary, "Hitting the child hurts in the mother's heart!" "I believe that mothers who have beaten their children have experienced it. The harder you fight, the more your heart hurts. Even if I am driven crazy, I still have to try to restrain myself, hit the pain but can not be injured, and master the measure. I had never thought that I had to pay attention to the point of being angry.
If I fight alone, and the man sees me angry, he can't say that there is a mixed fight between men and women! I glared at him sadly as I pulled the child away.
After the fight, I looked at the child curled up on the bed at night, and I was distressed and scared, and even afraid. Fear that he will be lonely inside, afraid that he will lose his self-confidence, afraid that he will not protect himself from now on, and so on. Looking at the sleeping child, even if I am physically and mentally exhausted, as a mother, I still have insomnia, because of the condemnation in my heart, but also because of the education that has lost patience with my child... So I analyzed why this was the case. But I was too stupid to find the answer, because I had so much work to do, no time and energy, and no patience to educate them.
I've been in this environment, on the brink of madness like this for six years.
I have also been driven crazy to think about a hundred, but the world is too beautiful, children need me, I don't want to be the weak in life, I want to be an example for children!
Author Peng Xiaohong.
【About the Author】
Peng Xiaohong, pen name Dream, net name Huanxin, Hunan Ningxiang people, love words, like to trim life, into the tranquility and elegance of words, looking for that tranquility.