The last lesson helps to describe the text.

I went to school very late that morning, and I was afraid that Mr. Hamel would scold me. Besides, he said he would ask us about word segmentation, and I couldn't even say a word. I don't want to go to school. Let's play in the wild.

It's really warm and sunny!

Thrushcross sings on the edge of the forest; On the grass behind the sawmill, Prussian soldiers are practicing. These scenes are much more interesting than participle usage; But I managed to control myself and hurried to school.

When I passed the city hall, I saw many people standing in front of the bulletin board. In the past two years, all our bad news has come from there: failure, conscription, various orders from headquarters-I have been thinking, "What happened again?"

Vahit, the blacksmith, and his apprentice also crowded there to read the notice. When he saw me running in the square, he shouted to me, "Don't be so fast, son, you can get to school in time anyway!" "

I thought he was joking with me, so I rushed to Mr. Hamel's small yard out of breath.

Usually, when school starts, there is always noise, even in the street. Open the desk, close the desk, everyone is covering their ears and afraid to recite loudly ... and the teacher is banging on the table with a big iron ruler, "Quiet, quiet ..."

I'm going to sneak into my seat in the noise; But that day, everything was quiet, just like Sunday morning. I saw my classmates sitting in their seats through the open window. As for Mr Hamel, he paced up and down with that terrible iron ruler under his arm. I had to push open the door and walk into the quiet classroom in front of everyone. It is conceivable that my face was so red and my heart was so flustered!

But there is nothing. When Mr. Hamel saw me, he said very gently, "Sit down quickly, little Frenchman. We are about to start our class without waiting for you."

I sat down as soon as I jumped over the bench. My heart calmed down a little. I didn't notice that our teacher put on his beautiful green dress, ruffled bow tie and embroidered little black silk hat today. He only wears this coat and hat on days when inspectors come to inspect or award prizes. And the whole classroom has an unusually serious atmosphere. What surprises me most is that there are many people sitting on the benches in the back of the town. They are as quiet as we are. Among them are the old man, Mrs. Hao, wearing his triangular hat, the former mayor, the former postman and some people nearby. Everyone looks sad. Hao sou also brought a primer with torn edges. He opened the book and spread it on his knee, with his big glasses across it.

I was surprised to see these situations. Mr. Hamel sat in the chair and told us gently and seriously, as he just said to me, "Children, this is the last time I will teach you a lesson." The order from Berlin is that schools in Alsace and Lorraine can only teach German. The new teacher will arrive tomorrow. Today is your last French class. I hope you study hard. "

After listening to these words, I am extremely sad. Ah, those bad guys posted them on the bulletin board of the town hall. That's what happened!

My last French class!

I can hardly write a composition! I'll never learn French again! Is that enough? I didn't study hard before. I skipped class to find the bird's nest and went skating on the Saar River ... How regretful I am to think of this! I just felt so tired of heavy textbooks, grammar and history, as if they were my old friends and I couldn't bear to part with them. So is Mr. Hamel. He's leaving, and I can't see him again! Thinking of this, I forgot the punishment he gave me and the ruler I got.

Poor man!

He put on that beautiful dress to commemorate this last lesson! Now I understand why the old people in town come to sit in the classroom. This seems to tell me that they also regret not coming to school often. They seem to be thanking our teachers for their loyal service for 40 years in this way, and also expressing their respect for the land that is about to be lost.

I was thinking about it when I heard the teacher calling my name. It's my turn to endorse. God, if I can say that famous and difficult word segmentation from beginning to end, with a loud voice and clear pronunciation, I am willing to pay any price. But I was confused by the first few words, so I had to stand there staggered, feeling very uncomfortable and afraid to look up. I heard Mr. Hamel say to me:

"I don't blame you, little Frenchman. You must have had enough. Here it is. Everyone thinks like this every day:' forget it, there is still plenty of time, and it is not too late to study tomorrow.' Now look at our results. Alas, putting off studying until tomorrow is Arthas' greatest misfortune. Now those guys have reason to say to us:' What? You call yourself French, and you can't even speak or write your own language! ..... But, poor little Frenchman, it's not your fault alone. We all have a lot to blame ourselves for. "

"Your parents don't care enough about your study. In order to earn more money, they would rather let you leave your books in the field and work in the cotton mill. As for me, don't I have anything to blame? Don't I often ask you to put down your homework and water my flowers? Didn't I give you a day off when I went fishing? ……"

Then, Mr. Hamel talked from one thing to another, and talked about French. He said that French is the most beautiful language in the world-the clearest and most accurate; He said that we must keep it in mind and never forget it. People who die as slaves only need to remember their language firmly, which is like opening the door of a prison with a key. At this point, he opened the book and talked about grammar. It's weird. After listening to the lecture today, I understood everything. What he said seemed easy, easy. I don't think I have ever listened so carefully, and he has never explained it so patiently. The poor man seems eager to teach us everything he knows before he leaves, and put it into our minds at once.

After grammar class, we have calligraphy class. That day, Mr. Hamel sent us a new copybook with beautiful round words: France, Alsace, France, Alsace. These copybooks are hung on the irons of our desks, just like many small national flags flying in the classroom. Everyone is so absorbed and the classroom is so quiet! Only the pen rustled on the paper. Sometimes some scarabs fly in, but no one notices, even the youngest child is not distracted. They are absorbed in painting "thick stick" as if it were a French word. Pigeons were cooing on the roof, and I thought, "They won't force these pigeons to sing in German!" "

Every time I look up, I always see Mr. Hamel sitting in a chair, motionless, staring at the things around him, as if to take everything away from this small classroom with his eyes. Imagine: for 40 years, he has been here, with his small yard outside the window and his students in front; The tables and chairs that have been used for many years are worn out; The walnut trees in the yard have grown tall; He planted wisteria himself, and now he has climbed around the window to the roof. Poor man, why don't you let him break up with all this now? Besides, I heard his sister walking around upstairs packing! They will leave this place forever tomorrow.

But he has enough courage to stick to today's class to the end. After calligraphy class, he taught another history class. Then I teach beginners to spell their ba, yes, bi, bo and no. In the back seat of the classroom, Lao Haosao has put on his glasses, holding his introductory book in his hands and spelling these letters with them. His voice trembled with excitement. Hearing his strange voice, we want to laugh and feel sad. Ah! I will never forget this last lesson!

Suddenly, the church clock struck 12. The bell of prayer also rang. Outside the window came the bugles of Prussian soldiers-they had finished the exercise. Mr. Hamel stood up and turned pale. I don't think he has ever been so tall.

"My friends," he said, "I-I-"

But he choked and couldn't go on.

He turned to the blackboard, picked up a piece of chalk, and with all his strength, wrote two big words: "Long live France!" " "

Then he stayed there, leaning his head against the wall, saying nothing but gesturing to us: "School is over-you go."