I knew they must be waiting outside. They weren't sitting around anxiously like mothers, talking about everything. They must have just sat quietly by the corner, smoking a cigarette, looking at the door of the school from time to time, knocking their eyes slightly, considering whether everything was all right with their children. They don't talk, they just smoke the cigarettes that have jeopardized their entire lives, with smoky marks between their rough fingers, and the marks of the years engraved on their faces. They are the fathers.
We have all experienced, as a child, the favorite or them. They will do everything, will ride the "squeaky" old tank, wearing us to the north and south of the world; they will catch grasshoppers and turtles, and then let us ride sitting on the shoulder, showing off our results everywhere; they will be in the June 1, take us to the crowd crowded, in the already sweltering heat of the weather, in a long line to ride the roller coaster. We never worried about getting hurt because they were incredibly strong, like a tree, rooted in our hearts. Even if we only knew Children's Day and Mother's Day, even if we whispered only to our mothers, even if we never said love to them. They still do not want, with very little language cloud to express their warm love.
Do we know their birthdays today? I'm not sure if I've ever been to a restaurant where I've had a good time. I'm not sure if I've ever been to a place where I've had a good time. ...... Maybe we only know ourselves, know that they will burn our favorite dishes, know that they will send the most thoughtful gifts on our birthdays, know that they want us to study well ......
Their greatness and love is silent. They would silently wait for us at the entrance to the neighborhood when our mothers anxiously called for us to come home late, as we must have seen. They would stand silently by when we fell and said, "Get up by yourself." We must have seen it. They made themselves strong and selfless. During the Sichuan earthquake, the bodies of their children lay in the playground of Beichuan Middle School, while they suppressed their overwhelming grief, holding up their nearly broken wives and searching for their children. And another group of fathers, they shoulder a heavy burden, in the place of disaster to save lives, they listen to their children to send greetings, slightly tilted his head, trying to let their thoughts do not show, said: "Don't think too much of me, I'm fine."
They, ever so silent, do not let us see the sadness, do not let us see the tears. They give us everything they have and never say they love us.
They are fathers, great and hidden. They are fathers, the men who love us the most in this world. Maybe we should give them a hug when we leave the exam room, I think they will be embarrassed for a while, and then until old age, also engraved in the heart.
[Comment]
"Silent Father's Love" - "wait", "seek" The "talk" is low-key and plain, and it is the "love" that is given silently but not spoken! In the contrast between "knowing" and "not knowing", the daughter's guilt is hidden, which makes "fathers" like me - "they" are moved. "They" are moved.
They
The sun is setting, and the afterglow of the setting sun reflects half of the sky in red, like the color of blood, the city is about to step into its bright and rich night life.
A ray of sunlight hit the steel bars, in the wall through the mottled shadow, another ray of sunlight hit their shoulders, navy blue overalls, drops of snow-like white spots melted in the above, I do not know whether it is paint, or cement, or is the witness of a hard day's work - has been dried sweat marks.
They can't rest yet, yes, they can't. In this profit-maximizing society, real estate developers, construction companies, contractors, contractors, people at one level after another, red-eyed to extract their benefits. They are not allowed to rest, even when they are sick, and when they have an accident and finally get to rest, it is forever, and the contractor throws down a couple of red pieces of paper, "Go away, and don't come back after you are cured." The RMB is red, the sky is red, and at this moment their hearts are also red, red drenched in blood.
They are very small, so small that people will only think of the prosperity of the high-rise, and never think of them. They are also very large, the responsibility is very large, the home of the baby school money has not been implemented, the home of the field sowing money has not been implemented, as well as the home of the wife and the old mother are looking to them to bring new hope to the family. "Small" "big" organic combination in their bodies, they, we call "migrant workers".
Often the news broadcast to the highway, two people because of a few dollars and fight, and even endangered life, cold we often take this as a joke to see. Not just a few dollars, take life, is it worth it? It's worth it! We do not know, this few dollars, enough to his son to buy a schoolbag, this few dollars, enough for his mother to buy a crutch.
The more people at the bottom of the social ladder (not just migrant workers), the more they suffer.
Did we see that? The parents' helplessness to hang their children's accounts in public **** toilets. We see it? Teenage beggars a pair of bright but innocent eyes. We heard it? The moans of the children in the black brick kilns. Do we hear it? The mine disaster in the sound of the man's plea for help.
All beings are equal, we and they are in fact the same at birth, because of the environment, because the family, our so-called high above just lucky, lucky only to help the unlucky obligation, the lucky people do not have to laugh at the unlucky reason.
Sometimes we say they are dirty; sometimes we say they are impolite. But they are simple, they are simple, they are tough, they are around us so silently live, people are not light, this is how pale!
We should help them, we should respect them, we should share their warmth to them, this is a "world" society should do.
The lucky ones have the obligation to help the unlucky ones, and remember, it is an obligation!
[Comment]
As a post-90s child, it is rare to realize that all beings are equal. Since "we" are lucky, the lucky only have the obligation to help the unlucky, there is no reason to ridicule the unlucky. This is a much higher level than the average person.
This article is simple in language and sincere in emotion. The end is a little weak, not just help, can be deeper to do some excavation. Senior language teacher Li Xin
They
At the end of the city, there is no bustling market, shiny neon; at the end of the city, only dilapidated shantytowns, there are full of life weathered life; at the end of the city, there is a group of people like them.
Let me how to call them? Children of migrant workers? The first time I've seen this, I've seen it, and I've never seen it before. Or the second generation of migrant workers? No, I don't want to use these cold names to call them, I would like to call them with earthy milk name, pull their little hands, and approach their lives ......
They grew up in the green mountains and green water of their hometown, and their pure souls are in the fields of spikes and plucks. In the wind of the mountains, they ran and longed. The wind blew through the fields and into the city, and in order to make a living, for the future, they followed their parents to the city, and put down roots at the end of the city.
So the eyes that are used to the green hills and green water for the first time touched the skyscrapers and the traffic. They don't know how to cross the six-lane road, and their little fingers can't count the number of floors in an office building. The modern civilization has never brought them any happiness, but this time, it has y marked on their hearts.
They picked up their backpacks and carefully integrated into the city life. However, in the eyes of the "city people", they realized the difference between a hukou and a temporary residence permit for the first time. They are the treasures of their parents! The first thing you need to do is to get your hands on a new one, and then you'll be able to get a new one.
They come home from school, they make a simple dinner, their parents are still in the construction site or vegetable farm labor; woke up at midnight, tearful eyes in the city's starry sky is not as bright as in their hometowns; quietly wish, hope that tomorrow their working children's elementary school will not be unable to pay the electricity bill and was seized ......
However, in their growing taller I can see their growth in their bodies. I remember when a reporter asked a child from a working children's school if she would return to her hometown after completing her studies, the little girl said without hesitation: Of course, she will go back!
It's a good thing that I'm not a big fan of the way the world works.
I remember their childish declaration at the Spring Festival Gala that year: "Our school is very small, but our grades are not bad", "We don't compare our dad with the city kids. Beijing's 2008 is also our 2008!" They gradually matured, said goodbye to yesterday's shyness and began to meet the new day.
Although they are still struggling with the small tuition fees; although the school still can't pay the utility bills; although there are still a lot of systems that are not yet perfect ...... although there are many "althoughs", but there is only one! "But" is enough, there are already so many eyes turned to them, they are growing strong.
The sun rose over the horizon, illuminating the end of the city, illuminating their lives.
They, in time, will become us.
Experiencing the countryside
People are such strange creatures, always yearning for the unknown, that they are willing to consume their entire lives in exchange for a completely different one.
I went to Xixi to play, one of the stops is to feel the primitive life of the farmers. The same as the many poems that envied the idyllic, the introduction of the text is always a light flow of joy and yearning. Wood-burning stoves, wooden toddler beds, papier-maché windows, and even simple wooden washbasins and scrubbing boards make up the so-called idyllic dream. People are randomly endowed with "idyllic" beautiful impression, only in the irrelevant poet's pen paragraph to take just a few words, and even make the countryside into a place to send a dream - a life-long chase, the unrealistic dream.
When the "country people" no longer flock to the city, the people in the city began to fantasize. Perhaps only the world of concrete and steel is closed to the unfounded yearning, perhaps only the people who think they are civilized to be labeled naive. So there are so many naive "city dwellers" who aspire to spend most of their youth in the traffic, and then buy a house in the countryside and spend the rest of their lives.
The busyness of the city crowds out our thinking time, and the life in the countryside is the castle we built after the tiredness of the day and night, and we only pass by with a shallow smile. Like a tenant visiting a property that may belong to him or her someday in the future, he or she forgets to stop his or her hasty steps and push the door open.
Why is there such a distance between the city and the countryside under the same starry sky? Is it because we have never been city dwellers, because we grew up under an invisible glass dome? Or is it simply because it is a raw word with no defined meaning that can be tampered with without being questioned by city-only logic?
We are just tired, just jaded. Maybe our "countryside" is just an undisturbed vacation, a quiet moonlit night, a life that is a little bit better for you every day. It's so close. And the city people only in order to follow the rhythm of the city, desperately consuming their own enthusiasm and youth at the same time, the right to their own, only to visualize such a seemingly practical but so unattainable dream.
"The countryside" is actually so close, why not as the ultimate prize
A city can not die
Some people love the mountains, some people love the water, but I love the city.
Among those who love cities, some love cities, some love small towns - it doesn't matter to me. I love the soul of a city.
Cities can also be personalized. Technology can give a city any appearance it wants, just as a man can choose any clothes he likes. But such a city is not real. Pascal comes to mind. On the axis of space and time, both the city and the man are annihilated as a single point, but as Descartes said, "I think, therefore I am", if there is a mind and a soul, a city can also contain the entire universe. And the soul of the city is the people in the city.
I forget where I read this sentence: "The extent to which I love a city is directly proportional to the bookstore and history of the city." I couldn't agree more. Gorky's words, "He who does not read has no soul," still strike me like thunder. To exclude reading and thinking is, as Arendt pointed out, to put man under the pressure of his natural attributes, to be satisfied with material consumption, to be a slave to the necessities of existence. Whereas Marx saw labor as necessary for man to be man, I thought reading and thinking were necessary for man to be a citizen.
How can a city be called a city without its citizens?
And history is the source of citizenship. Not the history of buildings, but the history of habits. From the day a city is born, it comes to life because of its inhabitants. The words and stories of the inhabitants, the laws they make, and the way they behave constitute the blood of the city; and now, after being passed down from generation to generation, they become moral laws and value judgments, which reflect the character of the people. Such as the north of China's boldness, the south of the delicate; and as the romance and passion of Paris, Berlin's rigor, which is the city's historicity, a city indelible mark.
As I write this, I suddenly realize that the reference to touching the city is not appropriate enough. Touch is material. In Hengdian or Hollywood, you can touch any city in the world. But that city is dead. The blood, life and soul of the city are the people who are ignored as mass by skyscrapers, cars and airplanes. I love my hometown, so I feel him: his breath and pulse are the same as mine.
The earthquake in Sichuan was so strong that it almost destroyed the city of Wenchuan. But the people of Wenchuan are still here; they are only temporarily gone. As long as they still choose to become citizens and choose to continue to write the history of Wenchuan, the city is still alive. A person gives up reading and thinking before he dies, a city forgets its history before it is extinct, Wenchuan is not dead yet.
A Distant Arrival
I am a person who grew up in the city. I am used to a vision filled with forests of tall buildings, I love to see the city's streaming night scene, and when I walk through those commercial streets, my heart is proud of this city.
And when I hit the keyboard, but often feel that I hear the wheat in the harvester under the click sound. It's indistinct and fuzzy, and it's a sound that comes from memory.
The click-click-click ...... is the rhythmic sound of a train on the tracks. From far, far away, it came.
When I was a kid, I used to take the train and go to many distant places. To reach the city, we traveled through countless villages. Outside the window, there were golden wheat fields, stacks of wheat piled high in the fields, docile cows and sheep, simple and modest homes, and scarecrows guarding the wheat fields. Even the sunlight can be seen pouring down on the petals of the sunflower, which tremble slightly, as if time is flowing from one piece to another in a moment.
The countryside exists in the stream of consciousness like a very distant image. Where the eye cannot reach, it is left to the imagination. Yes, those memories of the countryside have become confused, in Van Gogh's paintings, in the long-distance songs, which become more and more idealized.
In the song, it is sung liltingly: what you can't get to is called a faraway place, and what you can't go back to is called your hometown. In my dream, I realized that the countryside is the hometown that people have forgotten in the faraway places.
Looking back, the countryside is the place where people can be closest to the earth. For thousands of years, simple people, with their backs toward the sun, have delivered their most loyal beliefs and most simple emotions to this land completely.
Milan? Kundera said in The Unbearable Lightness of Being that the closer our lives are to the earth, the more truly it exists.
Attachment to the city and fascination with the countryside have always been entangled in people's blood. People touch the city every day, touching the fast-paced life, but the city brings them disappointment and strangeness every day. When they are tired and weary, they always look forward to the countryside, hoping to feel the primitive and simple everything there, the countryside gives them a sense of security close to the earth.
However, things are always changing. Buildings are being constructed in a uniform style that no longer matches the wheat fields, and the curved lines of the paths between the fields are becoming hard. People look at the countryside with disappointment. The images that have faded from memory have become a permanent pain in the heart, and so it has become a place that people can no longer reach.
In order to reach the countryside, we now have to travel through more than just countless cities.
Invisible cities
"Kublai Khan had already noticed that Marco Polo's cities were pretty much all of a piece, as if they could be moved from one to the other without having to move to travel by changing the combination of elements. "
When Icano. When Icano Calvino wrote this sentence, this sentence of the war veteran's boredom with the city, it was like an eternal prophecy, tightening its grip on us, a hundred years later, who live in a highly urbanized era and have modernity in our blood. We migrate from this city to that one, and from that one even further. This endless cycle of migratory birds always ends in the same way - rusty thoughts and youth are discarded by reality and strangled in a room in a concrete jungle again and again. The city is still a monotonous building block, standing in a cold form.
Are we too busy? Climbing and fleeing in fear on the inverted triangle of modern civilization is the fear of the city; wickedly fighting in the gaggle of gold and blue is the desire of the city; silently queuing up for mourning in Baudelaire's pen is the cruelty of the city. No one, there is no one here, to touch, any city, the invisible corners.
The invisible city is the pulse of the city. Marco once touched, Zobeide, such as white wool like tangled streets, but also to support the residents look forward to the future of the real dream; I myself once touched, Lijiang Ancient City, the gurgling of small bridges and water exhaustion, but also in this side of the water and soil of the thousand years of tranquility. In the face of these vivid exceptions, we do not know what we are losing, or we already know?
The invisible city is the dreamland of the city. The infinite possibilities of the dream world make all population and GDP meaningless, and the touch of the city appears disunited through the separate individuals. In my dream, London is just the red flag of Trafalgar, New York is just the hanging sun of Manhattan, and Hangzhou is just the scene of 10,000 people working hard before a rainstorm in June.
The invisible city is the city's true feelings. This is the true feelings of the intricate relationship between the bank has been frozen for too long. Once released, it will be irresistible to every corner of the city - this tentacle is the thirst for love, the desire for true knowledge, the human suffering of the unquenchable sympathy. Just as we shed tears in the face of the shattered city, at this moment, Beichuan has a meaning beyond geographical coordinates, transforming into a standing monument.
The invisible city can be touched at any time. To return to our past or to find our future, touch.
Feeling the countryside
First thought, the countryside is a fairy tale paradise. It faded from the city's pomp and circumstance and washed away the world's complexity. It may be Van Gogh's canvas on the Al, there is a mirror like pure blue sky, there are oil colors like a sea of flowers, the golden sunflowers in the sun's feeding the seeds of hope; it may be Tao Qian poem in the field, in the misty interpretation of the story of the fairy couple, slanting daylight sprinkled lightly, it is easy to swim.
That's just the countryside in the poem in the painting, when we really enter the countryside, the heart to perceive the countryside, will find that our countryside is experiencing pain. There is also sunshine there, that sunshine is not warm but poisonous scorching the land. Looking far away, the hunched back of the land, in the morning and evening, in the spring and fall, in this land exhausted. He grew up on this land, his sweat nourished this land; he learned to be strong on this land, his footsteps solidified this land; he was born in the yellow earth and returned to the yellow earth, generations, endless. Storms come, his heart like the swaying crops in the field like trembling, his tears in his cheeks full of gullies across, like the water that flooded the field, layer after layer over his heart, soaked his breath. The drought came, the crops shook like his withered body, he saw no hope, no harvest, his chaotic eyes dry and empty.
There were times when they were happy, but this happiness seemed so humble. Their greatest happiness is the harvest, the full grain seems to be a grain of jewelry, the corners of their eyes smiled into a crescent moon. Their greatest desire is to have a good weather, they only want to have such an ordinary life.
Will this kind of countryside make us feel disappointed when we face such a picture? And in fact, the countryside is because of this cruel beauty and more real. Feel the countryside, don't always do a leisurely tourist, in the flavor of its tranquility and purity at the same time, to give it a little more attention to the pain, to give it a little more understanding of the hard work and compassion.
Feel the countryside, feel the pulse of the agrarian civilization, feel China's most mellow cry, feel the heaviness of the land, feel the land infiltrated with blood and sweat; feel the purest persistence and perseverance of the Chinese farmers, feel the pain and helplessness experienced by the Chinese farmers.
When we look at them with disdain, have we ever thought that it is their blood and sweat that brings us hope?
Look at China's peasants with the most humble posture in China's history stood into eternity, and let us feel the countryside with our hearts!
Between hands and feet
When Grandpa was dying, Grandma spent the night with him whispering or looking at him as if time had stood still.
As a child, I loved going to Grandpa's house. I love to go to my grandpa's house. My grandpa knows a lot of interesting things, and my grandma is a great cook. Every time I listened to my grandfather speak with a flair, the grandparents were hungry. So he tiptoed into the kitchen, and when Grandma wasn't there, he would take a few slices of freshly fried chicken fillet and rush back to share it with me, like a little kid.
There were a few times when Grandpa got caught by Grandma and had to be beaten by her. Then we set the table and got ready to eat, and it was a great time.
Sometimes Grandma buys food and takes a long time. Grandpa was so anxious that he couldn't sit still, and couldn't stop looking at the window, hoping to see Grandma's figure. But when he learned that Grandma had traveled a long way to buy the authentic beef that we love to eat, Grandpa smiled and laughed.
But then Grandpa went to another world where he could no longer be reached.
The first New Year's Eve dinner without Grandpa was at a hotel. Grandma came, but not very happy, it turned out for everyone to prepare the tableware less grandpa's, but when the waiter sent a chair, grandma refused, and thanked her.
Grandma said, "Last night, the old man dreamed that he also wanted to eat some. He wanted to eat, you all filial piety, have remembered to order, he should be happy. However, the old man said to squeeze a chair with me to sit, it is enough ...... "Grandma is a simple person, but her words, but let me than what masterpieces are remembered.
Curiosity
Curiosity is undoubtedly a heart that wishes to know what it does not know. If you only focus on this, it seems to me that most people, men and women, young and old, all over the world, have such a "heart".
There is a kind of "curiosity" that is most common in Lu Xun's writings; it is the curiosity that drives nationals to watch the "beheading program"; it is the curiosity that drives neighbors to listen to Xianglin's wife's cries; and it is the curiosity that drives AQ's "revolution". It is also curiosity that drove Q to "revolution". However, perhaps these can only be called "curiosity", but the "heart" is lost. This kind of "curiosity" is built on prying into other people's pain, on the ignorance of the darkness of the "iron room", if this is also the true meaning of "curiosity", then If this is the true meaning of "curiosity", then no, it is fine.
What about looking at the world?
What about the rest of the world? There is a lot of "curiosity". Joan of Arc at the stake satisfied the curiosity of the people of the Middle Ages; the roar of Gazimodo satisfied the curiosity of the masses. Such "curiosity" seems to have become the world language of the "red heart", and in such a language, it is written in ignorance, mediocrity, decay and lifelessness.
The question is: what is true curiosity?
True curiosity requires observation. "A flower a world, a leaf a Qiankun", the world does not lack of beauty, just lack of eyes to find beauty. Observe with your heart, even the most unusual things will be turned into "magic". In ancient times, the ancestors looked up at the starry sky, to explore the mystery of the stars, taste the clouds gathered grace; Now, we through the telescope and another planet beckon, through the microscope to perceive the micro-universe. It can be said that there is no observation and help us to better observe the tools, curiosity will also close the window on the heart room, dusty.
True curiosity requires thought. If the "brilliant starry sky above us" is the infinite arena for observation, then the "moral law of our hearts" is what inspires and constrains us to deepen the fruits of our observations. As Pascal said, "Thinking makes a man great, and all our dignity lies in thinking - even if you are nothing but a reed under the mighty nature." If there is no such "soul presence" under the thinking, then no matter how many apples fall, I'm afraid that can not be smashed "gravity" discovery; no matter how hard human beings are to observe and learn, but also difficult to have the slightest creation and progress.
True curiosity is not a "hunt", and it does not exist to "discover" the pain of others and trample on the truth with a mediocre or ignorant mind. Its existence, need to observe the eyes to locate, need to thinker's mind to show its value.
With such curiosity, difficulties can be solved, progress can be made, and human beings can better survive and maintain their dignity ......
Hamlet said: "In the shell, but also thought he was the king of the infinite universe. " Perhaps, it is because of the real "curiosity" in, we can be more powerful voice to break out such a cry.
What's more, because of our curiosity, our world is much wider than a shell.
[Short Comments]
This is a disciplined argumentative essay. This year is also very rare. The author's intention is profound, and there is an independent opinion. The argument is progressive and logical. The use of examples of vivid, to the point, can strongly support their own central thesis. The article is lively and spontaneous, not dry and didactic. Future seniors should be inspired by it. (Michael Sit)
Curiosity
A thick, somewhat worn notebook aroused my curiosity.
She, always, was inseparable from it. She carries it with her at the moment of class; she always flips through it when she eats; she adds a lot of content to it when she studies at night; and before she goes to bed? It must be holding it.
What exactly is written in this notebook? Curiosity urged me to find out.
A classroom, she left the classroom, walked in a hurry, it is lying flat on the podium, quiet. Go take a look, curiosity drove me to the podium. Peeking into someone's privacy is not for gentlemen, and again hesitation crossed my mind. It lay there motionless, covered in dense writing.
I glanced sideways at my classmates, who seemed to have the same curiosity, but none of them acted on it. After all, it was the teacher's stuff.
Now that I've stepped up to the podium, there's no reason to return empty-handed, I said to myself secretly. "Hey, look what it says!" One of my classmates cautiously reminded me with both eyes glowing. My will got stronger. "You, go and watch my back." I instructed that classmate. "Okay, don't worry." With that he rushed out of the classroom and stood in the hallway looking around, his eyes bony. With a reassuring stride, I stepped up to the podium and squinted slightly, glancing at the densely written lines.
"× ×, delicate heart silk, not strong enough, be careful not to blame her too much."
" × × (my name), there is a small smart, but not down-to-earth, to be kindly guided, not to hurt the child's self-esteem."
Turn over a page, "Today × × students cheating on the test, I reprimanded him, my heart clenched into a ball, how can I make him understand my heart?"
Another page, "Today the child is not feeling well, but the school is too busy, remember to remind the child's grandmother to come home to look after him."
"In a short while, my children will be taking the college entrance exam, how can I encourage them?"
......
I stopped scrolling down, this is the teacher's diary ah, I actually peeped at the teacher's "secret"!
This is the first time I've seen a teacher's diary.
How many days and nights did she have to work for us, and how many sleepless nights did she have? How can she bear to give up her small family for the sake of everyone, even if the child is sick, she has no time to care about? The first thing you need to do is to get your hands on some of the most popular products and services in the world, and you'll be able to do it all in one place. Why is her body getting thinner and thinner, and why are her temples graying? I'm not sure if I'm going to be able to do that, but I think I'm going to be able to do it.
Teacher, she used the sincerity to refine us this gravel, so that we become a glittering pearl.
I used curiosity for the teacher's understanding and respect, thank you, my beloved teacher!
[Brief comment]
This year's college entrance examination essay, "peep" parents, teachers, classmates diary and private collection of many articles, but most of them are flat, some "do". This article is short, but the plot is complete and twisted, life atmosphere is real and palpable; "I" hesitant psychology, classmates' eyes encouragement, "wind" mystery, are written vividly, dynamic, so in the same kind of composition in the win others a chip. (Pan Dachun)
Curiosity
The person sitting at the desk in front of me didn't even show up for the exam? Looking at the empty seat in front of me and the blank answer sheet, my curiosity got the better of me.
Was she/he there because she/he was scared?
If so, I can only understand but not in favor. Our session is the first session of the Jiangsu high school curriculum reform, put in science experiments and "mice" almost, from the content of the textbook to the form of the examination is completely new, from the teacher to the students are groping for stones to cross the river, the real confidence can be a few of them? However, we can not because of these uncertain factors to flee. The college entrance exam is certainly scary, but when you think about it, it's also lovely. It means we can finally say goodbye to countless homework assignments, endless night study sessions and endless test papers! We can finally prove ourselves against our peers in the fairest way possible! As Chairman Mao said, "Counting the streams and streams of life, we are still looking at the present day"! So for the college entrance examination, we don't need to be afraid of this day!
I have a lot more, but I can't post them because of the word count, so contact me if you want more
.