laitimes

Nostalgia | Kaoru

author:Shangcheng County Discipline Inspection Commission Supervision Committee

Kaoru

I remember that day I wore two pigtails, wore an emerald green blouse, old red pants, and a cross-body washed faded canvas school bag, and walked into the gate of the catfish with excitement and timidity.

Our class is a special class, and the top students of each elementary school are selected. I was short, sitting in the first row, eyes wide open, nervous and expectantly waiting—

A short child teacher almost trotted up to the podium.

"My name is Xuan Jiaqi – a lot of people hear this name and think it's gay men. This name is easy to remember, does it sound like three plus seven? I'm your homeroom teacher..."

Teacher Xuan picked up a piece of chalk, turned around, tiptoed up, brushed and wrote down his name. Her chalk words are generous and smooth.

She turned around, and I looked at her carefully: short, stocky, short hair, long face, and a pair of lightweight silver-rimmed glasses on the bridge of her nose. Behind the lenses is a pair of small eyes full of light. When Teacher Xuan spoke, her glasses often slid down, and she held out her right index finger to the top. If she were to stare at someone, she would lower her head, and her eyes would shoot out from above the lenses, like two shining knives, whizzing over, killing you unprepared.

Teacher Xuan's mouth is small and pointed, and her upper lip is slightly longer. As she stood on the podium and scanned the classroom, pouting her lips, a circle of wrinkles squeezed out around her lips. She was particularly energetic, almost trotting and walking, the soles of her feet like springs. During the recess, Teacher Xuan chatted with us, she supported the corner of the table with both hands, jumped, and sat on the table, her two short legs alternately dangling.

At that time, the school held a literary and artistic performance every weekend, and our class was a key class in literature and art, and every time there was a program. Teacher Xuan personally taught and sang songs, such as "The Little Girl Picking Mushrooms", "The Little Girl Picking Rice Ears", "A Pine on the Top of Tai Mountain", and several literary and art activists stayed after school to rehearse in the back playground. I was short and clumsy, and these things that made a splash never belonged to me.

Once the township held a New Year's Day show, my class had to choose two programs, in addition to a song and dance, Teacher Xuan also prepared a male and female duet. She stood on the podium, her eyes shooting out from above the lenses, scraping across our faces. I held my breath and looked at the teacher.

"You, Wu Changxia, come here." Teacher Xuan's eyes snapped at me and beckoned to me.

My heart skipped a beat and I rushed over.

"You sing 'Little Cattle Herding' with Li Ming, go, go to my house, I will teach you to sing."

My brain buzzed, and for an instant it went blank. I followed the teacher mechanically, my hands and feet cold, my lips whitish, and the humming of mosquitoes in my ears. Walking into the courtyard and stepping up the three steps, I stumbled into the teacher's living room, where a pestle like a stick was. Teacher Xuan sat down on the couch, let me sit on the small bench next to her, and began to teach me to sing sentence by sentence:

"Who came to build the Zhao Zhou Bridge?" Who keeps the jade railing?

Who rides on a donkey bridge, what pushes a cart to press a ditch so babbling hey!

Zhao Zhou Bridge came to Lu Ban Xiu, and the jade railing was left by the saint.

Zhang Guo old rode on the donkey bridge, and the god of wealth pushed the cart to press a ditch so hey! ”

What's wrong, my voice doesn't sound like it came out of my mouth at all, distant and strange. The scariest thing is that my ears are buzzing and I can't hear my own lyrics! I was sweating profusely and heard a voice like an old duck! Until now, I can still feel the mood of Zhang Huang at that time.

"Forget it, you can't sing well." Teacher Xuan pouted and waved at me.

I don't know how I got out of the teacher's yard. Ashamed, frustrated, disappointed, I almost cried. The only chance to perform on stage was lost due to my timidity and clumsiness, and I was plagued for days. Later, I learned that it was the study committee member who sang with Li Ming, a tall child with more courage than a leopard, and in front of her, I was like an ugly duckling.

In addition to the show, Teacher Xuan also took us to the hot spring pond by boat. For those of us who have never seen the world, this trip is simply more amazing than going abroad. When I sat on the ship and saw the snow-white waves splitting at the bow of the ship, my heart flew into the blue sky!

The blue sky, the sun jumping on the turquoise waters of the lake, like a bright dangling piece of silver. The dazzling mountains in the distance resemble crocodiles lying on the water. There are several pavilions on the nearby hill, with their corners cocked like four birds fluttering their wings. There are willows on the shore, and there are several wooden boats floating on the water. We were like a flock of sparrows that had just come out of the nest, chattering and chattering. Teacher Xuan took us around, and one of her arms was very affectionately resting on the shoulder of the student. When she encountered the trench, she was the first to cross it lightly, and then extended her arms to pick up the small students one by one.

That trip greatly broadened my horizons and made me know that in addition to Catfish Mountain Village, there is a wider and more beautiful world. Teacher Xuan opened the door to the outside world for us with courage and enthusiasm.

Mr. Xuan's teaching is never just in the classroom. She took us on the playground to jump rope, kick shuttlecocks, run, sing, tell stories. She is also very concerned about the family situation of each student. Once, a girl's father, surnamed Zeng, died, and Teacher Xuan took us to her house to comfort her. As soon as I reached the mouth of the village, My classmate Zeng ran down from the hillside crying. The teacher hugged her and patted her on the back to comfort her, and we all cried.

In the first semester of the first semester, several students dropped out of school because they could not pay the tuition. Teacher Xuan was very sorry, she repeatedly asked people to carry letters to let those people continue to go up, but in the end she could not keep them.

In my second year of junior high school, my father fell seriously ill and died shortly thereafter. I didn't want to talk to anyone, and I didn't take a leave of absence, so I interrupted my studies. After the start of school, I transferred to No. 1 Middle School and have since been separated from Mr. Xuan and Catfish Hill Middle School.

I saw Teacher Xuan again twenty-eight years later. She is long retired and lives in an apartment for the elderly. We were a bunch of students holding flowers to see her. She was shorter, with short hair, but in good spirits. She smiled so hard that her eyes narrowed into a slit, and her two arms rested on the shoulders of the two students, just as intimate as they had been.

"I don't want to live with my children. And voila, how comfortable it is to live alone! Alone? No, I have a fulfilling day! I have everything here, washing machine, refrigerator, everything... I'm an activist here, singing and dancing with everyone. I also pulled the erhu, listened, "A Good Jasmine Flower" -"

Teacher Xuan sat on the edge of the bed, cocked Erlang's legs, propped erhu on his legs, creaked and pulled up, and sang while pulling, and we sang together. Everyone laughed and burst into tears, as if they were back in their teenage years. In front of the teacher, we became a group of children again.

"I went from the age of eighteen to teaching at Catfish Hill High School, and I've been doing it all my life! For more than thirty years, I never left—some people dug me up, but I didn't want to go. Man is an animal of feelings, and after staying in a place for a long time, he has feelings, like a tree, rooted, and cannot easily move it..."

We have seen Teacher Xuan several times. It is very fateful that I have the same birthday as my teacher. In my impression, Teacher Xuan always walks with a bounce belt, and she doesn't seem to have aged. When the class leader reported the news of Teacher Xuan's death in the group, no one wanted to believe it.

Catfish Hill Middle School, where I studied for more than a year, was also relocated and renamed. The little girl with two pigtails, wearing an emerald green blouse, old red pants, and a cross-body washed to a faded canvas school bag, excited and timid, along with the energetic Teacher Xuan, have disappeared into the long river of time.

Author: Wu Feng

end

If you also have the story of your hometown

Then submit it to us

Let's write WeChat together

Record the changes in your hometown together

Write down village affairs and send homesickness

Use the Sunshine Village Platform to show the story of your hometown in your eyes...

Nostalgia | Kaoru

Contributions are welcome

Please sign your manuscript

(real name, pen name), detailed address, contact number, personal profile, etc., with a personal frontal photo, and indicate the "Sunshine Village Affairs" column submission. Email: [email protected] (Propaganda Department of Shangcheng County Discipline Inspection Commission Supervision Commission). We reserve the right to add or delete to the manuscript. We reserve the right to pursue legal and financial liability for a resulting acts of over-submission, plagiarism or plagiarism. Contributors grant us exclusive access to the work in a variety of ways, including, but not limited to, communicating it to the public through the Internet.

Press alerts are welcome.

Read on