Writing is a semi-proposition. The name is Bow to _ _ _ _ and give it to some good people. Thank you.

In the world, many people are bowing: there are flattering bows, children who are grateful to their mothers, and waiters who welcome guests ... but what impressed me most is the deep bow of Teacher Liang before class.

Every time in class, Teacher Liang shouts "Stand up" and bows to us. Teacher Liang's deep bow has always remained in my heart, so I respect Teacher Liang very much.

In the third class that afternoon, the hurried bell urged us to hurry back to the classroom, and the students rushed into the classroom, pushing and shoving. We sat quietly in our seats, waiting for the teacher. After a while, Mr. Liang still disappeared. Everyone was silent. If Miss Liang takes it by surprise, it will be miserable. After a while, Mr. Liang, who has always been punctual, disappeared, and everyone quarreled: "Mr. Liang won't come, will he?" "I declare that we are liberated!" ……

Bow to a tree

I was suddenly stunned by an elm tree. Suddenly, it was because I lived at the end of this alley for ten years and walked in front of it every day.

Passing by, Jing didn't notice its existence. That morning, I involuntarily glanced at the brick piles on the roadside and immediately took a look.

To this tree.

This is an unusual tree.

It grows on a pile of bricks. There are many big trees and small trees around. The brick pile is more than two meters high. I don't know how many years it has been piled there. The surface of the brick is covered with moss. Bricks are irregularly arranged together, like veterans who are tired of training, standing there askew, barely maintaining the formation.

It's actually only one meter high. Sparse branches spread wildly, without forming a tall and stalwart posture, but showing tenacious vitality. It stands on a high brick pile and has a bird's eye view of the noisy world. It runs carefully by itself. Of course, I like a well-proportioned body, even if it is a slim and graceful family! But fate gave it to a pile of bricks. At first, it chose the sunny place in front of the brick pile, ready to sing a song to bid farewell to the old elm tree. But in an instant, a slight wind blew it onto the brick pile, and its fate changed. It knows that escaping from reality can only destroy itself, and it is the foundation of life to be content with fate and follow the trend. It can only suppress the exuberant internal drive and turn the full passion into simplicity-it has grown into a bush.

Even so, it must have suffered endless pain. Lightning bombarded it, the wind destroyed it and the snow eroded it. The most unbearable thing is drought and barrenness. Sometimes it wants to stop the rushing rain, but the rain disdains it; I used to keep the crystal dew, and the dew was only kissed gently, and I couldn't find it again. At the foot of the plateau-like brick pile, it is too barren to supply it with at least nutrients. It must use its own mind. Make the trunk thicker and shorter, make the branches and leaves smaller and more, and try to save money and reduce consumption. It is its survival strategy to keep the rain and dew as much as possible and take root hard. Bad luck made its veins stand out suddenly and violently, scabbed all over and bent over, but it did not give in. No matter how hard life is, we must face it, deal with it and walk through it step by step. I stood there for a long time and was moved by an elm tree.

One evening, when I came back from work, I found the brick pile missing. An old man stood quietly under the tree. The old man told me that this pile of bricks has been piled for eighteen years. When I was about to build a house, my son suddenly fell ill and died. The daughter-in-law remarried, and he led his grandchildren to live, so the house was dragged. Now that the grandchildren have grown up and can earn money, the government has subsidized some money, and the house can finally be renovated. In the old man's calm narrative, there is no sadness at all, as if life is like this.

I froze there. Eighteen years, I don't know how the old man survived. When the old man left, he said to himself as he walked, "Look at this tree, why can't it live?" People who lack water and soil have been competing for 18 years, and they really want to live a perfect life! "Suddenly, I felt that the elm tree in front of me seemed to be a replica of the old man. The loose branches and leaves of bitter fleabane bitter fleabane are the sparse hair of the old man; The wrinkled stem is the weather-beaten face of the old man; The soft and thin roots in the ground are Ran Ran's old man's whiskers.

Watching the old man trudge away and walk on that winding path. Thus, an eternal sculpture walked in the alley dyed red by the sunset glow. Tears blurred my eyes. I stood quietly and bowed deeply to the old man and the elm tree.

Suddenly, there was a burst of footsteps outside the door. Strange as it was, I soon recognized Mr. Liang. The classroom was quiet at once. It's really Teacher Liang, but the steps are no longer light. Her bright face is a little tired, and there are still a few drops of sweat, isn't it-

Stepping onto the platform, Mr. Liang bowed to us as usual, and then began the class. She puts her hand on the platform from time to time. In that class, the flowers outside the window and the occasional bees and butterflies are no longer so attractive. We only heard Mr. Liang's lecture and shortness of breath. We only saw Mr. Liang's blackboard writing and the bean-sized sweat on his forehead.

After class, Mr. Liang bowed to us again and then walked out of the classroom. I saw Mr. Liang wiping the sweat on his face from time to time, getting farther and farther. Finally, he put on a golden robe and became a flying butterfly.

Miss Liang, it's our turn to bow to you!