Primary School Composition 1 Photo of Zhang Zhengui (photo of the whole class)

My first photo disappeared somewhere in the world. Not because of loss, to be exact, I never had it, and its fate with me only lies in the little grip at hand.

The wheel of memory ran over, and with the rolling smoke, the young girl seemed to stand in front of me again, sipping her mouth, a little shy, with two braids hanging irregularly on her head. Standing among the children who are also born and raised in the mountains, I feel a little uneasy and nervous because I am not used to facing the camera. With the photographer's password, several curious and stiff faces were frozen.

That photographer is our teacher, and seven or eight of us are all students in the same class.

It was in the late 1970s, when I had just entered primary school, and the smoke of the Cultural Revolution seemed to have dissipated. Or, after all, it is because the mountain is high and the emperor is far away. Such a beautiful small mountain village, no matter how much turmoil occurs, can not cause much repercussions. So I was able to attend primary school regularly, but the school was too small, with only a few dozen students in total.

Our teachers are all young people. I don't know if there were educated youth at that time, but their group was as clean as white, and they spoke a different southern dialect from ours, which also let us know about the white rabbit toffee in Shanghai and a distant Huangpu River. It is sad to think that their years are empty in such an almost isolated place, so some teachers taught themselves photography and took photos for us in their spare time with great interest.

At that time, taking photos was a big event. Usually, on the first day of the New Year's Day, or 100, I went to the photo studio at the foot of the mountain to take a photo as a souvenir. This is really a souvenir. Many people may take this photo only once in their lives. This photo is naturally treasured, usually carefully framed and placed in a conspicuous place. As soon as the visiting guests enter the door, they can touch some shy or glorious smiling faces.

So everyone rejoiced when they heard such a good thing. A few little guys changed their new clothes at home and arranged their hair, and their faces seemed to be much cleaner. Under the arrangement of the teacher, they either stand or squat, pose, and wait for the teacher to say "good", and their faces return to their usual expressions and disperse easily.

When the photos were developed, everyone passed them around and laughed. These photos are only half the size they are now, and they are black and white. In the photo, several students are crowded together. Although we have taken this matter seriously, it is always difficult to compare with today's children, probably not mature enough. However, we finally have a real photo.

Everyone's joy hasn't passed yet. The teacher said that the photos should be developed and printed at a cost of ten cents each. Everyone's expression changed immediately.

Up to now, no one will be willing to bend down to pick up a dime on the road. It's really useless Only when educating children will they set an example and tell them that "they should not be wasted."

But at that time, my father was the only one earning a salary, and my mother was busy taking care of a large family all day, and she had to arrange food and clothing for a few families. Ten cents is a meal at home, my two books, some books and part of my tuition.

I clearly see that on the two days of shopping every month, mom and dad will discuss where to borrow some money to buy food first, and then they can eat noodles rolled by mom on the same day, and the rest of the days are mostly coarse grains. My mom and dad are running around, tired, bit by bit, saving up and paying back the money. Next month, it will be the same.

What should I tell my parents? For this photo of improper eating, improper dressing and improper teaching.

When I came home from school, my mother was doing housework. Looking at her weather-beaten and sad face, I couldn't bear to say anything.

I have finished my homework, and it is still early. I went to play for a while. There was really too much time at that time. After two classes, I went home with only a little homework, and then I went crazy and played until dark.

But that day, I had something on my mind

My mother is busy cooking, and the smoke in the kitchen covers my mother's face like fog. My mother adds firewood to the stove and is busy cooking. I can't tell whether it's sweating or heat. My mother's hair began to curl. She is too busy to see me. I stole a look at my mother and finally didn't speak.

In the evening, the whole family had a good meal, sat around the kang as usual, listened to my father's story under the light, and listened, and that photo came to my eyes. It was my first photo! At nine o'clock, the light went out on time. I lay down, thought for a while with my eyes open in the dark, and fell asleep slowly.

I didn't have that picture in the end. As time goes by, the photos have blurred, and even there are several people in the photos. Who are they? I don't really remember. Later, I traveled around alone, and my classmates were scattered all over the floor. I wonder if they still have this photo. We haven't been together for many years, and sometimes I wonder, if we really meet again one day, will they remember having such a photo?