The full text of The Teacher Leads the Door .

This correct title is called Shi'en Unforgettable New Year in 1942, when I was not yet 6 years old and went to study in a neighboring village primary school.

This elementary school is located in the apse of the Guandi Temple and has only one teacher, all of whom have 4 grades. 1 class in 4 grades. The teacher's surname is Tian, he was born in a private school, and he began his career as a teacher at the age of 17. He is eloquent and writes very well.

On the first day of school, after we bowed, we lined up to enter the classroom. Teacher Tian first taught the second and fourth grade students and asked the third grade brother to paint the first grade brother's little hand red. On the red paper, a small poem:

One goes to two or three miles, and there are four or five cigarette labels.

There are six or seven pavilions, eighty or ninety flowers.

Teacher Tian has taught the first grade. He first read the poem again, told it in strings, and then made up a story: tell it eloquently. I still remember that the gist of the story was:

A little child, holding his mother's clothes, went to his grandmother's house, and walked out of two or three miles in one breath. Passing through a small village, there are only four or five families, making lunch, and every house is smoking. When the mother and son were tired of walking, they saw six or seven pavilions on the side of the road, so they went into one of the pavilions to rest.

Outside the pavilion, the flowers bloomed luxuriantly, and the more the children looked at it, the more they loved it, stretched out their fingers to count, and muttered: "...Eight, nine, ten. He wanted to break off a branch, put it on his ears, and dress himself up like a little happy god for spring.

He was just about to make a move, but his mother stopped him and said, "If you break a branch, he will break a branch, and the people who are resting behind will not be able to see the scene." The child listened to his mother's words and withdrew his hand.

Later, this. Eight, nine, and ten flowers bloomed more and more, and they could not be counted, and the place became a large garden.

I was fascinated by it, and it felt like I was there. Teacher Tian stopped abruptly, but I was still in a daze. It wasn't until my third-year college brother stabbed me that I woke up.

At that time, the language was called Chinese. Every lesson that Mr. Tian teaches, he has to make up a fascinating story. I have been working under Mr. Tian for four years, and I have heard thousands of stories, which are like spring rain falling into the ground.

This year, when I went back to my hometown, I met a teacher at the edge of the village who was walking with a cane. I still salute him respectfully, as I did 40 years ago as a first-grader. Talking about the past, I am deeply grateful to him for sowing the seeds of literature in my young heart.

The old man shook his head and said, "This is just an unintentional planting of willows and willows. ”

Ten years of trees, 100 years of tree people There are still flowers that do not bloom intentionally, and willows and willows are planted unintentionally.