There is always a dream in Xi Murong's prose: I know there will be an exam in this class, but I can't find my own classroom up and down the building; Either I entered the classroom and the teacher came, only to find that I had never taken such a class and had no textbook, and I was anxious and scared sitting in my seat.
There is also a most common dream: take out the book and find that I can't understand any of the words on it, but others are sure. The teacher told me to get up and I was tongue-tied. All my classmates turned their heads and looked at me with cold disdain, which made me tremble in my dream.
When I wake up, I often find that the whole person is too nervous to recover for a long time, and my heart seems to be holding a heavy thing. I have to take a deep breath to get better and fully recover. After waking up, in the dark night, I will laugh happily and be glad that I have finally grown up.
Finally grew up and finally walked out of the pain. At that time, I had to have math and physics classes, so I finally didn't have to go back. In the second year of junior high school, I came from Hong Kong to take the joint entrance examination, and was admitted to the then North Two girls (now Zhongshan Girls' Middle School), which began my most difficult and difficult period. Strangely, in the primary school days in Hong Kong, my brain seemed to be ok, and I could keep up with arithmetic classes. But after I entered the North Second Girls' School, I didn't know anything about what the math teacher taught me.
It was a very unpleasant taste: the teacher talked endlessly and the students listened with relish. I was the only one sitting there with a "gobbledygook" in front of me. I tried to see and listen, but I couldn't get into that world. The only thing I can do is to draw on the "gobbledygook" with a pen.
At the end of a semester, I drew a book full of pictures of geometry or algebra, which surprised my tutor at home and specially took a book back to his classmates. After reading it, all the boys studying in the Institute of Technology are obsessed with it. It's been almost 20 years, and some people still remember my name and will tell me that they used to like my math textbook.
Of course, meeting again in 20 years, these things are really worth laughing at. However, at that time, when I was sitting in the classroom full of oleanders outside the window, my mood was completely different.
At that time, people with good grades in math and science could become good students envied by their classmates, while people with good grades in liberal arts could not easily raise their heads in class if their grades in math and science were poor. I remember once, I won the first place in the third grade Chinese reading exam, and my name was announced. When the physics teacher came to class, he said in a sorry tone:
"What a pity! Chinese is so fluent, how can physics be so unreasonable? What a pity! " He smiled and shook his head.
The students all turned to me, laughing and shaking their heads. Probably because of the award, there is still a gentle and friendly atmosphere in the class. However, this was not the case once.
That time, the whole class turned to me. My seat is the window seat in the last row. The math teacher has just announced the results of the last monthly exam of the class. I was the last person whose results were not announced. The teacher asked me:
"Xi Murong, do you know how many points you got in the exam?"
Her voice is cold and her eyes staring at me are cold. The whole class turned to stare at me together, and I froze, crustily skin of head and whispered:
I don't know.
"Let me tell you, the monthly exam is zero, and the usual score is zero."
At this moment, in the eyes of more than 40 people, that kind of indifference, that kind of disdain, that kind of attitude of being ashamed to be friends with me, are all revealed. For a girl of 12 years old, it really takes a little courage to face such a hopeless and unreported dilemma. But strangely, I didn't shed a tear when it was time to cry. I just keep my head down, waiting for that moment to pass, waiting for time to dilute everything and remedy everything.
On the surface, the days passed day by day, but at night, the cold dream repeated again and again, pulling me into the darkest and most helpless abyss.
At that time, I hated my teacher and I hated myself. At home, for me, family education is the same. However, at that time, no one knew that I was born with "digital blindness"-if there was such a disease in the world, I was the one suffering from it. Unlike illiteracy, illiteracy can be cured as long as it can be educated, while "digital blindness" can never be cured.
Stumbling into the third grade, I have to take a math make-up exam to take the graduation exam next semester. On the first night of the make-up exam, I knew the situation was serious. I dare not sleep all night. I recited a geometry book from beginning to end, but I knew it was useless in my heart and just tried my best.
The next morning, halfway through the math class, the teacher suddenly stopped to review, and then wrote four questions on the blackboard for the whole class to calculate. I moved the numbers in my math book as usual, but I was thinking about the make-up exam in the afternoon. After class, the teacher left, but the students made a scene. They think that these four questions have nothing to do with the paragraphs taught, and the teacher must have ulterior motives for putting four simple questions on the blackboard mindlessly.
Make-up math exam is arranged in the first class in the afternoon, in another classroom. The seven people in the class who want to make up the exam suddenly become the most beloved figures.
More than 30 outstanding students are divided into 7 groups, and each group is responsible for teaching one. After teaching for a long time, it didn't work. They simply wrote out the' standard answers' to four questions and taught us to recite them. I recited three of the four questions, and got seventy-five points in the make-up exam in the afternoon. Finally, I can take the graduation exam and finally graduate.
After so many years, the scene of that day has always remained in my heart. If the math class in junior high school for two years is a nightmare, then the last class is a warm and beautiful memory. I still remember those students smiling and sighing when they were teaching us. The classroom is full of tolerance and reluctance before parting. Such sincere friendship warmed my heart and made me cry at the graduation ceremony. The math teacher sitting on the podium, like the Chinese teacher, is staring at me with a smile. They sent me away from junior high school with caring eyes.
I finally escaped from the nightmare and never went back. Therefore, high school students have to study fine arts in Beijing Normal University, because I have carefully checked their schedules and there is no math class.
Of course, many people will say that I like painting since I was a child, and with the encouragement of junior high school art teachers, I resolutely chose this path. In fact, this is not the case. I don't have to learn to draw. It was not so much the art teacher who encouraged me as the math teacher who forced me to go this way because there was no other way.
However, no matter how I explain it to people now, they won't believe me. They always smile and say:
"where! You are too polite, you are too modest. "
Only in the nightmares I often have, will they believe me, turn their heads together, look at me with that kind of cold eyes, and let me fall into the hopeless abyss again and again.
Xi Murong's Prose One spring afternoon, there was a poem "Xi Murong".
Life may just be repeated.
At that moment before, my heart was full of confusion and fanaticism, and I had to cry bitterly to express that sadness and disappointment. So, in the speeding car, on the highway at dusk, I cried like rain behind the steering wheel alone.
What a hot heart, what hot tears!
Then, that feeling began to appear, and when I was still crying, that feeling began to appear in detail. It's like being in front of a raging waterfall, we can't hear other sounds at first, and we can't detect anything at first except the rumbling waterfall. However, after calming down and getting used to listening, we will find that there are many subtle voices that have always existed. We can hear them as long as we calm down.
I'm starting to hear it. It is my other heart, standing by forever, staring at my heart with that kind of compassionate smile every time, starting to appear and comforting me out of turn.
Yes, there are so many helpless arrangements and heartbreaking experiences in the world! Cry! Tears are always good. However, don't forget, don't forget to study your sadness and disappointment carefully, and you will see how clear and beautiful fate God has given you.
So, while savoring my own gains and losses, I began to smile, but my eyes still contained tears just now.
The car left the highway and turned to a small town full of fresh tea on the side of the road. I stopped in front of the flower shop and chose a white hyacinthus orientalis for myself. Why not, just because there are many fine crystal drops on the small white petals, just to commemorate such a spring afternoon, such a short but always repeated mystery and enlightenment.