Green memories...

On the school festival day, the friend from the Central region also made it in time for the afternoon train to return from Hanoi to visit his old school the next morning. It was always so noisy, always "talking nonsense", even a bit dusty from the construction site. But this time... Just looking at him standing next to his nearly 80-year-old homeroom teacher to take a photo, you could tell he was just like a little student, just entering high school in the district.

Illustration (internet source).

Walking through the classrooms, the camping area of ​​the students... He said: "That place is our class building, back then we had to work so hard to plaster the walls, and the buildings where the teachers from Hanoi and Ha Dong came to teach were not much better, thatched houses with dirt walls, and in the winter the wind blew fiercely. This stadium, in the past, every time it rained, it was like a pond." Then he looked up and mentioned the names of the old teachers who could not return to visit the old place in the hall, the names of the friends from the soccer team of the class years ago who had not returned for many reasons. The sound of the school drum, the rows of royal poincianas, the eyes of the teachers, teachers, and friends were like a film slowly returning: Warm, passionate, and full of romance and depth.

You said: Life is truly happy when you can study and be a student of respected teachers. Everyone has the same thoughts. The joy and happiness of student life is associated with the classroom environment, teachers, friends... The age of easily feeling inferior and vulnerable if not cared for and shared in the right place. The age of fragility... easy to break?! Therefore, besides the arms of parents and family, school is the "second home" that nurtures good things...

In recent days, the story of Mr. M, a classmate, was published in a local Party newspaper, causing netizens to read and comment without hesitation. They all had the same thought: He had a teacher who was beyond wonderful. During the years of subsidy, studying far from home, struggling to study on his own, he was so poor that during his high school years he only had 2 sets of clothes cut from the old hammock of his Literature teacher. Knowing that his student was chronically hungry, on weekends, the teacher "made an excuse" to call the team together to train him. He was also the only person the teacher "forced" to stay and eat with the family. Oh my, just peanuts roasted with fish sauce, a plate of fried tofu and a piece of fatty pork, that was already a "party" for him, because he had not known what fresh food was for a long time. The teacher's children also knew the meaning, so they started talking and asking questions to help him feel less embarrassed. As for the teachers, they only organized fresh food on weekends; they always picked out the least fatty piece of meat for him. Knowing that he did not have any textbooks or documents, the teacher searched for books from seniors so that he could have books to help him review for the C block exam.

He was affectionate in everyday life but strict in studying. He said: "If you don't study hard, you can't even save yourself from poverty and darkness, let alone help your relatives." Every time he returned a test, the teacher pointed out the awkward and awkward places that were difficult to convince the reader. He gradually improved with each semester. That year, he passed the university entrance exam to a prestigious school in Hanoi, earning praise from his teachers and friends. The day he returned to Hanoi to study, the teacher came all the way to the train station to see him off.

The teacher advised: "Try to study hard, don't compete or play around. The environment is new but you have to keep your "quality" of living beautifully". Parents are far away, not present to see their children off to school far from home, at that time if I didn't hold back, I would have cried like a child in front of my father. And it's true, for the past few years, the teacher has taken care of me like a father? Later, I became a teacher, a fairly famous journalist... but the teacher's words and feelings followed me throughout my life. That was a gift that life gave me and I cherished it forever...

In life, during the years of studying, many people also have such wonderful encounters, like a beautiful dream in their youth, sparkling and real. Ms. H always remembers the image of the old teacher who taught the first grade class years ago. The classroom was by the stream, the chairs were made of bamboo tubes, and the desks were cut from the kapok tree at the village entrance. The teacher was old, kind and had beautiful, soaring handwriting. The first letters were learned from him. She remembers one time because she was too tired (walking the long way to class on the hill and forest), around 10 o'clock, she fell asleep on her coloring and writing notebook. In her fitful sleep due to fatigue and hunger, she vaguely heard the teacher reminding a student sitting next to her to take the notebook off her head (the teacher even helped her look up). After taking it, the teacher left her alone to sleep until school ended. That day, on the notebook smeared with dirt and sweat were the lines of writing the teacher wrote for her to practice writing. The lines written in beautiful, soft red ink...

Later, she studied with this or that degree, then many other classes and had a stable life, but the class by the stream, with the thoughtful gestures and care of the teacher, made her remember it forever. It is true that later on, "new stories" also made her and anyone who knew her sad when here and there, someone distorted the image of the teacher and the teaching profession. Like her daughter, who brought her child to school with a sad face: "Maybe I will have to change classes for the child. What kind of teacher is that when she picked up the child, she didn't talk, didn't smile, her face was cold. Even the child felt goosebumps, let alone the child. It was right for her to cry out loud. I don't know if there was any bullying in the class. How could someone not know how to laugh? If they don't know how to laugh, why did they choose this profession?". Her daughter's mood also made her worried. I hope that it was just an external manifestation... Because the core values ​​of the teacher, of the profession have been engraved in the years, in the memories and hearts of many people. It's like a bright green musical note that resonates forever...

Bui Huy (According to Hoa Binh Electronic)

Source: https://baophutho.vn/ky-uc-xanh-ngoi-225169.htm