I went to school at the age of five, which was not early in the city, but it was almost absent in the countryside at that time. Of course, this is not because my parents want to give me early education to develop my intelligence, but mainly because our village was under the jurisdiction of the state-owned Jiaohe Farm at that time, and farmers became agricultural workers. We preschool children also entered the kindergarten, eating there and sleeping there like children in the city. Those women in the kindergarten often skimp on our rations and treat us as paramilitaries. Hunger is common, and so is bruises. So my parents sent me to school so that my rations could be distributed home, and of course I escaped corporal punishment.
I still wear open-backed pants at school and like to cry. I want to run home after class. There is a big difference in the age of the students in the class. The youngest is like me, and the oldest has a dark moustache. The first teacher who impressed me was a tall female teacher. She is very relaxed and often wears a blue dress that is washed white and smells like soap. Her name is Meng Xianhui or Meng Xianhui. I remember her because of a very shameful thing. The thing is this: the whole school teachers and students gathered on the playground to listen to the long political report of the principal. I stood in front of the principal and looked up at his face. That day, my stomach was bad and I was anxious. I want to go to the toilet, but I'm afraid. So I wriggled around. When I was really in a hurry, I said, "Principal, I want to go to the toilet …" But he ignored me as if he didn't hear me. Later, I really couldn't do it, so I cried and ran to the toilet. I cried and ran and shouted, "I peed my pants ..." Of course, I don't know the consequences of my behavior. Later, someone told me that both students and teachers bent over with laughter, even the headmaster and the iron mask man laughed. All I know is that Teacher Meng found me in the toilet, stuffed a pile of pictures with pinyin letters into my crotch, and then told me to go home. Ten years later, I realized that she and my wife were from the same village. My wife said it should be called Aunt Meng. I asked my wife, "Did your aunt speak ill of me?" The wife said, "Aunt praises you!" I asked, "What did she praise me for?" My wife said seriously, "My aunt said that you are not only smart, but also very hygienic."
The second teacher who impressed me deeply was also a woman. She is not tall, her surname is Xi Hui, and she speaks with a foreign accent. She taught me from grade one to grade three-I don't know how many times-from pinyin letters to picture reading. More than 30 years have passed, and I often think of her dragging her feet to teach me pinyin. Today, I can write on the computer without learning any five-stroke fonts, all thanks to the basic skills my teacher taught me. Teacher Yu's husband is an aviation officer of the Kuomintang. It sounds like a disaster, but he is actually an amiable old man. He taught my brother, and we all call him Miss Li. People in the village respect him very much. During the Cultural Revolution, the walls were painted with red paint to write quotations. The teachers who made mistakes in the school, holding rulers, putting pens, drawing squares and magnifying samples, could not write a word for a long time. Later, Mr. Li was pulled out and asked to write. When he picked up the pen, he wrote. One by one, the correct orthographic characters jumped onto the city wall, and even the revolutionaries had to admire him. Teacher Yu's youngest son is about my age. I went to their house to play after school. I have a particularly cordial feeling about their home. Later, I was deprived of the right to go to school, and I was no longer embarrassed to go to their home. Decades later, Mr. Yu lived in the county town with his youngest son, who became the best doctor in the county hospital. I had a chance to meet her, but I always put it off. By the time I met her, she was already dead. I heard from my brother that she had seen my photos and manuscripts in Novel Monthly before she died. At that time, she was ill for a long time, and her mind was a little unclear, but she recognized me at a glance. My brother asked her how my handwriting was, and she said, it's better than yours!
The third teacher I will never forget is a man. In fact, he only taught us physical education class for half a semester, and he was not a "pro" teacher, but he spoke well of me when I was the most smelly. The teacher's name is Wang. His family background is very good, and he seems to be a martyr's family. This background was really glittering at that time. With such a family background, most people will be arrogant and arrogant, but Mr. Wang is always modest and prudent, not arrogant at all. He is not tall, but he is in good health. He runs fast and jumps high. I remember that he once jumped the bar of 1.7 meters, which was not easy in a rural primary school. Because I said in front of a classmate that the school is like a prison, teachers are like slave owners and students are like slaves, the school gave me a warning. It is said that at first they wanted to send me to the public security bureau, but I was exempted because I was too young. After the accident, I became a famous bad student at school. They think I'm reactionary, morally corrupt and hopeless. If something bad happens at school, I will be the first suspect. In order to recover the influence, I tried my best to do good deeds, helping teachers make stoves in winter, feeding rabbits in summer, giving up my job and helping poor old farmers carry water. But my efforts have had little effect, and both schools and teachers think that I am pretending to make progress. One summer noon-at that time, the school asked students to take a nap in the classroom after lunch. The older one slept on the table, the younger one slept on the stool, and there were schoolbags or shoes under the pillow. That year, a kind of wooden slippers was popular in the village, which was very loud. My father made me a pair, too I walked to the front of the classroom in wooden slippers and saw my classmates asleep. Instinctively, I took off my slippers and put them in my hand. I walked barefoot into the classroom. This scene was seen by our teacher Wang. He quietly followed behind the classroom and called me out. He asked me why I had to take off my slippers when I entered the classroom. I said I was afraid of waking my classmates. He gave me a look and left without saying anything. Afterwards, I heard that Mr. Wang specifically mentioned this at the school office meeting, saying that I was actually a good student. When all the teachers thought I was hopelessly bad, Miss Wang discovered my inner goodness through a small incident and spoke for me at the school meeting. I was deeply moved by the thought of this matter. Later, I dropped out of school and went home to be a shepherd boy. When I met Mr. Wang with cattle and sheep in the street in front of the school, I always had mixed feelings, blushed and said hello, and then bowed my head and hurried by. Later, Mr. Wang was transferred to the county, and I also went through the back door to work as a temporary worker in a cotton processing factory. Once, on my way home from the county seat, I met Mr. Wang who rode home by bike. He had a flat tire on the back of his bike, and it was very difficult for him to carry it, but he still let me sit in the back seat and drove me more than ten miles. At that time, bicycles were very precious property, and people loved their cars as much as their eyes. Teacher Wang is such a man of status. He risked running over a tire and walked more than ten miles behind a humble man like me. Such a thing is not something that ordinary people can do. Since then, I have never seen Mr. Wang again, but his smiling face and his lithe figure jumping over the 1.7 meter hurdles often appear in my mind.