Looking at Xuanyuan from afar, laughing about the wind and the clouds, not destroying the scenery, only hearing about life, rising and falling floating, holding chalk, holding life.
- offering teachers
Xu Zhimo's "farewell to Kangqiao" made many students feel extremely, nestled in the campus like a soft heart, all kinds of taste in the heart, the teacher's affection, the teacher's warmth, playing a song of praise in the heart, affecting the heartstrings, let the tears drop on the campus warm land.
Behind you is the familiar blackboard. In front of you are a pair of bright eyes, standing on the three foot platform with a kind of piety, and writing life with three inch chalk.
In the face of a pair of confused eyes, your rational words swing across every fork. In silence, you stick to the white of chalk, the black of blackboard and the yellow of solitary lamp.
Day by day, time has dyed your black hair white, time has bent your back, but you have smiled, you put your hope in your fingers, and spring is there.
Peaches and plums speak for themselves, but they make a difference.
In the charming sunshine of the peach garden, you stare at the blossoming peach blossoms, lingering infinite expectations, splashing your hard sweat, irrigating the flowers in bud, this is a painting that will never fade in our hearts.
When I failed, you smiled and said, & quot; don't talk about heroes with success or failure & quot;, a simple and meaningful words, let me set sail again. The process of struggle is a bitter tear, but with your company, life has become so colorful. You tell me that there are Quyuan's & quot; people in the Miluo River are all confused with me, and the people in the world are drunk with me & quot;. In the long history, there are & quot; people who are not indifferent but have a clear mind, not quiet and have no way to go. &You told me the profound philosophy, let me not only understand the knowledge in the book, but also understand how to deal with people.
Piaoyou, Piaoyou, the light of chalk is sprinkled all around, and the classroom will have the taste of calligraphy. The chalk is used up little by little, leaving a pondering geometric life, leaving a poem of eternal charm
Teacher's life, with the fragrance of peaches and plums, and deep feelings, let me sing a poem for the lovely and respectable teacher and the sporadic chalk: the bridge outside the post house is broken, lonely and has no owner. It's Dusk alone. It's more windy and rainy. I don't want to fight for spring. Any group of Fang is jealous, falling into the mud and grinding the master. Only the fragrance is like the past.