My Chinese teacher is a young woman teacher. She has a high nose and waist-length hair. She is very learned and knows everything, so we admire her very much. She always wears a kind smile when she is happy, but when she is angry, I dare not look, just look down at the floor. I think: as a monitor, I must manage the class discipline in the future, lead the whole class to study hard, and let the teacher give us lessons with a smile every day. The teacher's hand is like a superb sculptor, dexterous, magical and famous. I praised the teacher's hand. Teacher, your figure suddenly appeared in front of my eyes, your voice echoed in our ears, and your words and deeds were printed in my mind.

Teacher, teacher, your life is a fire, your life is a song, and your career is a poem. Your lecture is so colorful that every chapter seems to open a window in front of me and let me see a colorful world.