When I was in high school, I met a fairy teacher. That year, I just went to high school, he just graduated from the teacher's college, at first glance he looked like a little old man, not tall, gray hair, honest face, but he couldn't laugh, he laughed a little treacherous, walked like a trot, and spoke a thick standard vernacular, but he sang Peking Opera icon words in a straight and round tone, quite a famous style, various school evenings, his Peking Opera is the finale.
When we go to the first class, we will be taught the rules. You can do anything in his class, you don't have to report when you go out, you just slip through the back door. It is possible to read any "healthy" book in his class, except for math, which he says is because the math teacher robbed him of his girlfriend.
He was imaginative in class, often galloping like a wild horse, and was criticized by the principal on the spot for teaching open classes, and he couldn't tell the children everything.
He told us about the pre-Qin culture, the Wuhu eradication of China, the history of the wilderness, the hundred schools of thought, and the frontal battlefield of the War of Resistance against Japan, and we asked him why he didn't talk about the battlefield behind the enemy, and he said that it was in the history textbook.
He would read us prose poems that he loved, and he would share life stories that he read. He would also force us to memorize the famous texts, but he never forced us to understand, saying that when we were old, we could read the meaning of the books.
He would ask us to write two essays a week, but we were allowed to skip the Chinese papers. He would read every essay carefully, annotate it carefully, and always see him bowing his head and reading our essays when he went to his office. He would bind the good essays into a book for us to circulate, and he would also recite the beautiful parts of the essays in class.
He often told us that the life he longed for the most was "one acre of land, two cows, and a hot kang for his wife and children", and being a teacher was just a job for him to earn a living, and he would pay for it. He loved us, but not too much, so after graduation, we continued to run forward, and he stayed put.
He taught me for two years, and I will remember him for the rest of my life, that little old man.