#记录我的生活#
There is always a period of time that is worth looking back on.
The small school on the prairie recorded my special youth and the innocent youth of my students.
At that time, Children's Day was the most anticipated happy holiday for students. The school organized a cultural performance for the students on Children's Day, and the fourth-grade class I led rehearsed a Tibetan dance. It's almost time to perform, but we don't have the Tibetan skirts we wore for the show.
I discussed with the students for a long time, but I didn't have an idea. Suddenly, a beautiful female student said, "Teacher, let's dye with chalk!" She just blurted out, not thinking about what kind of cloth to dye, and as soon as I heard her, I had an idea.
I got gauze bandages from the infirmary, and a few female classmates crushed the colored chalk and soaked it in water, red, orange, yellow, green, blue, purple, and various colors of gauze strips were dyed, and my hands and those of several girls had turned black.
We hung the dyed gauze strips on the branches to dry, and then sewed them one by one with the color, and the bottom skirt was surrounded by a solid color bunting, and the homemade Tibetan skirt really looked like the Tibetan woman's color skirt.
The performance venue is in the open space in front of the office of the school's row room, students and parents circled around to watch the show, the Tibetan skirts made by our local method are novel and chic, particularly beautiful, and the audience also saw the students wearing such beautiful Tibetan skirts for the first time, performing such wonderful Tibetan dances.
In the blink of an eye, autumn is coming, and the golden wheat has been harvested, and there are only stubble and scattered ears of wheat in the wheat field. That autumn, the school's "work-study" activity was to pick ears of wheat, which was scheduled on a sunny afternoon.
The teachers led their classes, and the primary school students each carried a small basket in their arms and set off in a mighty procession towards the wheat field. Walking to the edge of the wheat field in the distance, where the field could not be seen, the teacher had just given the order to disperse the group, and the students ran and jumped into the wheat field.
The stubble is hard and occasionally reaches the ankles, and the wheat is so sharp that it your fingers from time to time. The students only bent down to pick up the ears of wheat, and some of the students' small hands had been pierced by the sharp wheat and left small holes, and they didn't care. In the fields, insects and birds chirp and children laugh one after another, and a primitive a cappella concert is staged freely in the vast fields.
For several hours, the fiery sun baked people's faces with pain. When picking up ears of wheat and returning, the small baskets on the arms of the students were not plump, and everyone's little faces were dyed with two small red flowers by the red sun of the plateau, but the students were able to have fun in the field without restraint, and everyone was full of happiness.
How many years have passed, and some beautiful images in those years have always inadvertently turned around from the corridor of time and space, rushing towards me.