My grandfather still kept many books in Chinese characters, saying that they were the writings of “Saints” and should be carefully preserved and not defaced. Occasionally, he would throw away a book that had been accidentally eaten by termites to use as paper to fly a kite. Textbooks were rare at that time, so it was natural for my brother to keep them for his younger siblings to study. But the idea of keeping old notebooks, especially those with both good and bad points and comments from teachers, was formed in me when I was in middle school.
In the 60s of the 20th century, student notebooks were only of the “5-cent 2” type of paper like today’s A4 size, notebooks for writing lessons were double-sided; exercise books for subjects done in class were kept in the same size, with blue or pink covers, and the top of each exercise page was lined with purple ink for teachers to give marks and red ink comments. The number of notebooks I kept increased over time and was always filled with pages of life and affection. My parents had to sell a flock of chickens or a pig to get money to buy kerosene, fish sauce, matches, tobacco, and to buy new clothes and writing paper for my siblings and me for the new school year. And every time they gave their children paper and pens, and purple ink bought from the grocer at Loi Ve market, my parents never forgot to tell us: “Try to study hard to become a good person.” I didn’t understand what it meant to “become a human being.” I just thought that buying paper and pens cost a lot of money (50 cents, 2 cents, with 50 cents being the highest denomination at that time), and if I was a bad student, I would be scolded by my teachers and waste my parents’ care. So, in addition to herding cows, cutting pigweed, and sweeping the floor, I sat at my desk studying until late at night, sometimes having to use a towel soaked in laterite well water to wipe my face to keep my eyes from drooping.
Every time I turn the pages of a book, I see my handwriting changing over time. The older I get, the worse it gets. I silently justify my carelessness by saying that the teachers teach too fast, and if I don't abbreviate or scribble, I won't be able to keep up. Indeed, there are teachers who teach slowly, with a soothing voice that is very pleasing to the ear, and can be recorded clearly on the notebook. But there are teachers whose voices are not clear and fast, so they have to scribble, but in fact, they really respect the knowledge that their teachers have imparted, so they try to take full notes. And the images of the teachers just keep coming back. Among the teachers who teach social subjects, I remember the way Ms. Tran Thi Nga, who teaches History, checked the papers the most. When it was her time, the class was dead silent, only the rustling sound coming from the pages of the notebook with the students' names. Looking at the red pen she often used to mark and correct papers, towards the middle of the notebook, the hearts of those with the letters H, L, M, N kept pounding. Her way of checking the oral test was different from others! She didn't call out names first, but lifted her chin and looked down to see who had names in the rhyme range that the pen had just passed over. She looked at the students' faces, those who knew the lesson looked cheerful, those who didn't, sat still like grainy rice or looked absent-minded, furtive, then she called out names...
When returning homework, teachers often give general comments on the quality of the class's work this term and praise those who have improved their scores compared to the previous test. Once, Ms. Thanh Yen My, who taught literature, gave me a score of 4, below average, on a scale of 10. In addition to writing in the scoring box of the Writing notebook, she added in class: "I didn't expect that someone as good at writing as you would be off topic. When I gave you a score below average, I was very troubled. But, students, there are many opportunities to fix an essay that goes off topic, but it is difficult to get back on track in life."
Many lessons of natural science teachers, such as Math by Mr. Chu, Physics by Mr. Thu, Chemistry by Mr. Hung, all contain humanistic elements, teaching us the first steps to becoming human. Mr. Nguyen Ba Chu, who teaches Math but is very good at writing poems, once said: "A group of classes A, B, C must be concentric circles, must be united, love each other and help each other to study and progress." Ms. Ngoc, who teaches biology, said that teachers always want the tree they cultivate to have no rotten fruit. To achieve this, there must be a joint effort between both teachers and students. Teachers must teach well and students must learn well.
Students in the midlands are not like students in the provinces and cities. Many students come from poor families, making teachers worry. Every day when teachers go to class, they have different emotions. Many times, students make teachers walk out of the classroom with heavy steps, tears welling up in their eyes, because they feel sorry for the poor students. But there are tears of dissatisfaction, because the lessons that teachers have spent so much effort preparing all night, along with the meaningful stories that teachers want to convey to students, have not yet penetrated them, just slipping away because some students' minds are busy with farming.
I still remember what Mr. Nguyen Van Tu, Principal, said at the end of the last school year of Van Quan High School: “Life is a very long journey, the time you spend in school is just a learning experience; The life you are about to enter is very diverse, some will go to college, some will go to university, some will join the army, some will return to the fields... But the value of each person lies in having their own uniqueness. The first choice of each person is to know their strengths and weaknesses and become themselves, not to follow the crowd.”
Among my friends, I remember Tien "girl" the most. He was from Hanoi. When the US conducted a destructive war by air force that spread throughout the North, Tien and some friends evacuated to my hometown and studied together throughout high school. Once when he returned to Hanoi, Tien bought a few white notebooks with drawings of student activities on the cover. Tien gave me a notebook with a drawing of three graceful young women with special styles from the three regions of North - Central - South. I used the notebook Tien gave me to copy my favorite songs and poems in purple ink and kept it in my backpack since the day I joined the army. Occasionally, when I turned the page, I felt surprisingly lovely emotions when reading a poem he composed, talking about student love that arose while taking shelter in an A-shaped bunker next to the classroom, whenever there was an alarm of approaching American planes.
The years kept passing by, and yet more than half a century had passed, one day in August 1970, after 2 years of fighting, I was given leave by my unit to visit home before going to the Military Cultural School in Lang Son to review for the university entrance exam, continuing my studies. I carried down the stacks of old books placed on the mahogany board that was still resting on the crossbeam of my house. Seeing the books again, my heart was filled with emotion as if I had rediscovered my childhood. Turning the pages, yellowed like the autumn sun - they were witnesses of a time, silently expressing my efforts on the path of learning. It was also a journey of many years, gradually absorbing knowledge under the roof of the Socialist school. It was the old pages that contributed to helping me review and pass the university entrance exam.
Remembering the past, especially the school years, is a sweet gift for old age. That quiet, pure and innocent feeling awakens in me every time I see my grandchildren chattering on the first day of school.
Source: https://daidoanket.vn/vo-cu-lat-trang-10291018.html
Comment (0)