Unforgettable elementary school memories

 　　That day, accompanied by my fifth brother, I walked along the country lane, amidst birdsong and fragrant flowers, carrying the schoolbag my mother had sewn, and stepped into the gates of the village primary school, beginning a brand new chapter in my life.

　　The school was located on the flood control dike not far from our home. The school buildings, with their blue bricks and gray tiles,

　　and green trees brushing against the eaves, displayed an ancient style on all sides, a restoration of the old in every direction. In that impoverished and desolate era, it stood out like a crane among chickens amidst a sea of ​​thatched huts. At that time, our main subjects were Chinese, arithmetic, and science. Our homeroom teacher, Ms. Cao, believed that strict teachers produce outstanding students. She always had a stern face and wore glasses; two cold beams of light often swept across us from the upper edge of the lenses. I don't remember anything she taught us, but I do recall that she always diligently supervised our afternoon naps. Anyone who disobeyed would be punished by being made to stand in the scorching sun.

　　Because the Cultural Revolution was not yet over, one movement after another occurred, and labels flew everywhere. In such an environment, I unwittingly became an "outcast." One day, during morning self-study, my deskmate Gao went to Teacher Cao to falsely accuse me, labeling me. Furthermore, due to Teacher Cao's harsh treatment and the slander from several childhood friends, my father was also criticized. From then on, some people in the village looked at me with disdain, and mockery and sarcasm were commonplace. In their eyes, I would never amount to anything.

　　Because of my painful experience when I first entered school, coupled with my "bad family background," I was heavily discriminated against in class. I felt inferior to my classmates. When I tried to interact with those "well-educated" classmates, I was met with contemptuous looks. That relentless loneliness and fear were more piercing than a knife, more devastating than despair. Before I was even seven years old, I felt a heavy oppression that I couldn't resist, gradually shaping me into a silent, withdrawn, and insecure boy—a student who was neither noticed nor noticed, and whose presence was generally not a good thing. Moreover, at that time, I stubbornly believed that I would live in this atmosphere day after day, year after year. Meanwhile, my ideals and courage, like a tire with a faulty valve, gradually deflated along my path of growth.

　　Many times, I didn't know what words to use to describe my elementary school life. I helplessly encountered such teachers and classmates; I hated them intensely, hated their ruthlessness, hated their cruelty. I didn't know when this situation would change, but I couldn't bear these oppressive days, couldn't bear this painful torment. I couldn't, like some people, use grand words like "innocent and carefree," "laughter and joy," or "carefree" to describe my elementary school life. In my heart, everything about elementary school was filled with trouble! Fortunately, psychologists weren't as developed back then, otherwise, I would definitely have been sent to one.

　　Once, the math teacher pointed to a problem and asked, "Who can do this problem?" I thought of the answer, but just as I was about to raise my hand, a voice suddenly said in my ear, "Jiuman, just forget it, listen to the teacher's answer. If you get it wrong, the other students will laugh at you!" So, I quickly pulled my hand back under the desk. Seeing my hesitation, the teacher smiled and asked, "Jiuman, do you know?" His deep eyes gazed at me, filled with love and warmth, yearning for an answer, but I walked away disappointed.

　　When I entered third grade, my persecuting teacher, Mr. Cao, was transferred, and my homeroom teacher changed to Mr. Zhou, from the same village. Mr. Zhou had a kind face, coupled with elegant speech, giving people a sense of wisdom and artistic talent. His lectures were both warm and profound, not only teaching us methods and principles for learning, life, and conduct, but also helping us establish correct views on life, values, and the world.

　　In those years, Mr. Zhou cared for my studies and growth like an older brother, providing guidance on the structure and organization of my compositions. Several times, he read my compositions aloud in class, commenting as he read, praising and cherishing my writing. He even recommended my essay, "Lovely Spring," to the commune middle school as a model essay. Mr. Zhou's care, support, and help greatly alleviated and comforted my withdrawn, silent, and self-conscious feelings. Gradually, as if struck by a thunderbolt, I began to study diligently. Now, I can barely write anything, which is inseparable from Teacher Zhou's encouragement and dedication back then.

　　At that time, the school had a teaching base, and the teachers often led us to work in the fields. After school, I also had to do housework or participate in agricultural production in the production team. I would get up before dawn, either collecting manure, tending cattle, cutting pig feed, or using sickles, shovels, and hoes to do the same farm work that the adults did every day. When night fell and the stars twinkled, I would drag my tired body home. The summer sun was extremely scorching, and I had to bend over in the paddy fields, using my blistered hands to harvest the early rice bag by bag, and then plant the late rice bag by bag. Going out with the adults to plant rice and harvest grains, every bend and every drop of sweat seemed to be telling the land about my perseverance and dedication. I once harvested the last bundle of rice under the scorching midday sun; I once bent over, determined to plant the last paddy field on a summer night swarming with mosquitoes…

　　My primary school years were wasted on numerous sports and labor activities. I should have been cultivating inner strength over time, growing alongside the era, but instead, at an age when I should have been expanding my knowledge and building a solid foundation for life, I merely filled my body with material wealth while simplifying my mind. This is both my personal pain and the tragedy of our times.