Let me talk about my current situation first. I have been suffering from a serious illness for a short time, but I still have some confidence.
I went for a physical examination a few days ago, and a lot of unsatisfactory things happened, or in other words, it added a little bit of leverage to an already bad situation.
Well... being diagnosed with vitiligo, although it only made my appearance unsatisfactory, it was still a deep blow.
It's not a problem, I don't care much about my appearance, or I never cared about it.
It just doesn't matter if my face becomes ugly, as long as my eyes can still be gentle.
Then, on a whim, I called a specialist in the physical and mental health department. Well... the situation worsened a lot.
I won’t mention the specific circumstances, because they don’t seem to bring much meaning. There are thousands of miserable people in the world, and I am just one of them.
One thing I realized very early on is that pity is the saddest emotion.
When compassion becomes the dominant emotion in contact, all other emotions lose their chance of germinating.
This involves another story, and I don’t mind sharing this story with you.
…
It was more than ten years ago. I can't tell whether it was thirteen or fourteen years ago, but there is one thing I can be sure of.
Those years are probably the ones that have always shone brightly in my life until now.
A teacher that I can't forget, a girl who gradually transformed from a favorite girl in my heart to a muse... lover? Maybe.
It is easy to find a scribe, but it is difficult to find a human teacher.
Although I was asked to tell you what method that teacher used to educate a child like me, I'm afraid it would be difficult for me to explain clearly.
But one thing I firmly believe is that the beating of the heart seems to be closely related to us children.
The teacher is a somewhat strict type. Of course, this is contrary to the education methods advocated in today's society.
But now I can understand the meaning of that kind of harshness and corporal punishment.
It is true that when a teacher teaches meticulously, the children's hearts will be touched. As long as they are not hard-hearted, they will definitely be touched.
But emotions of being touched, moved and grateful are not the best ways to make a person completely change himself.
Especially for a head teacher.
Of course, she did not lack these cares and gentleness, but no matter what, it was impossible for one person to give the same love to more than sixty children.
And if we want to change the problems of our children, it is definitely not enough to follow the "advocated" education method.
I can say that my teacher spent most of her life on us children.
She even gave me something that my parents couldn't give me, that thing is called dignity!
I was a frequent visitor to that teacher’s office, and there was my name on the side of the teacher’s desk, followed by three and a half Chinese characters for “正”.
Every time you go to the teacher's office because you made a mistake, a stroke will be added to your name.
Now when I think of it, a smile appears on my face unconsciously.
At that time, I was often punished and had dozens of hams in a row. One hand was swollen like a pig's trotter, but I never complained about the teacher in my heart.
It was a very strange feeling, certainly not in line with common sense.
But I'm not the only "bad" student who feels this way, my good friends feel the same way as me.
That is, even though I can still recall the pain in my hand, what I also recall is the teacher's haggard face.
I can no longer recall the true face of the girl I have always longed for, but for my teacher I can still remember her footsteps, her powerful but slightly sharp voice, and her
face.
To be honest, of course we children will be afraid when facing teachers.
But what she did and showed when she treated us, I can only now understand what it was.
That's respect!
That is not the respect an adult has for a child, but the respect a natural person has for another natural person.
In the eyes of teachers, there is a responsibility between teachers and students, and there is no gap between teachers and students.
Her teaching to us is just because she is a teacher, so she should punish students for their mistakes.
But when the teacher treats us, he treats us the same way one person treats another person.
She called each of her children by their names solemnly and earnestly, without any other changes except the name.
Like the teachers I met later, she would not call her students with professional titles such as "monitor" or "XX committee member".
Just calling her name seriously is the only teacher I have in my short life.
And this is just the tip of the iceberg of her respect for us.
My childhood was somewhat unfortunate, and if I had to use words to express my emotions, I would not be able to describe the things I experienced.
I can only express these things in words, so I was inspired by it during a composition assignment and wrote down all the misfortunes I had experienced and my complaints about the suffering.
So in such a situation, what should an excellent teacher do?
Is it to ask softly and show your care? Or to enlighten in a clumsy way that I don’t know how many times I have experienced?
I can tell you for sure that a good teacher should keep these things a secret and remain silent!
That is talking, and everything you talk about should not be used as casual conversation material in other people's mouths.
I am still grateful to her for this, there is no special treatment, there is no such annoying and disturbing look of pity!
Some are just a hundred thousand respect! Just the respect an adult treats a child who is about to mature the way he treats a natural person!
I'm still grateful for that.
When I started writing this book, it was shortly after I resigned from school.
I hope that I can be a teacher like her and do my best to give all my students the respect they deserve.
It was also during that time that I truly understood everything I had to face as a teacher.
When a teacher stands in front of students, he needs to separate everything about himself from the identity of "teacher".
All the suffering in life will only exist in me as a person, not in me as a teacher.
The pressure was unimaginable and even made me breathless (of course, it was also because I suffer from asthma). Laughter.
In the end, I chose to resign because of my health.
This is my second formal job. My last formal job was as a reporter...
Well, the pressure brought by this kind of work that requires conscience is indeed great, and more importantly, both jobs have a common problem, and that is leadership.
When I was a reporter, my direct superiors and senior teachers were all good people. They were real and straightforward, with faith and belief as well as their own temperaments.
But that’s not the case with the top leaders. The smell of bureaucracy and decay is disgusting. (That leader was recently investigated and even made the local news.) Laugh.
As a teacher, the principal is a good person, the kind of person who has responsibility, dreams, beliefs and outstanding abilities.
Energetic and proactive.
But unfortunately, my immediate superior is not like this. He has a strong aura of the world.
Brothers are loyal and good at grabbing credit and passing the blame... I didn't like this way of getting along, even though I kept silent about it most of the time. In the end, I chose to resign due to my health.
The leader between my direct superior and the principal is the bridge between an idealist like the principal and the secular world. Although I don't like him very much, it does not affect my opinion that he is very good.
Neither job was smooth. When I chose to write a book, I felt like I had everything in my hands for the first time in a long time.
Until you are wasted... yes "wasted".
I'm not sure what caused my mental state to deteriorate, but I think it probably started with "lack of freedom"?
As a natural person, I don’t even have the right to choose my children? This is not normal!
All I want is to make a decision on my own, which does not violate morality and naturally does not violate the law.
But just such a simple choice is like a chasm for me.
Accusations and abuses are the same as before.
Tears, complaints, pouring out endless rubbish, just like before!
Love, affection, and endless reasons are just like before!
When can I live according to my own wishes?
Only at this time, only when I slowly tell a story, can I "live" according to my wishes.
Even if it is another struggle, even if it is the most decisive struggle in my life, I will not give up the only world I have.
That's all, that's all I have...
The world pieced together by words is everything to me, and the increasingly ugly appearance is just the reason for my rejection.
I will continue to write until it wilts.
I will give the story an ending and the world I created an ending.
Then reopen another world only for me.
Words will never end, at least those are the countless worlds I have nurtured.
I'll be okay, even if it's just for the world in my hands.