One of the first new concept compositions is about the love between teachers and students.

The desire for transparency

Author: Li Jie

What color is life? Is it red-full of enthusiasm? Is it blue-faint sadness? Or black-representing the desert of memory, everything is dusty and there is no frozen anger; Still white-in the unknown future, the pen in my hand will swing freely on this white ... I don't know, my life is black and white, and I can't tell where I live. Where there is a road, that road is the road! I am just a small snail, burdened with my confusion and past, crawling tirelessly here, not seeking results, but seeking color. Perhaps, when the dew is still wet tomorrow morning, my life has passed away. ...

I have been in women's university for more than a month. Every day after the compulsory courses, I will take a class back to the dormitory. Only when you go back can you be clear and quiet. The dormitory is in a corner of the campus, building 5. If an outsider comes to look for building 5, it will take a while. Who would have thought that the room behind the previous four beautiful dormitory buildings was Building 5? I also blame the school for recruiting too many science students. The dormitory is not enough, so we are sent to this place to "settle down". Building 1 is full of "royalty", the headmaster, the dean ... the daughter and miss of a relative, and no one can afford to offend; The second and third floors live in the economic category, full of management and economy, and are future gentlemen and white-collar workers; Our fifth floor is full of people who are called "literary lunatics" and "historical lunatics" outside, and we despise academic girls the most. However, our people can also be called "leaders"-ordinary blue-collar workers who will lead a very poor life in the future. As you may not know, there are two kinds of people in Building 5. The first category is "historical madman", who may make a difference in the future. After all, it is not enough to pretend to be a "historian" just by a pair of glasses, but also by a diploma. Diploma this thing, how many people chase, how many people rob! Some people don't care, but many students waste many nights watching a series for it … It's worth it! Like a "literary madman", he can only indulge himself in second class, after all! Now there are more people writing books than reading books, such as Lu Xun, Rou Shi, Liu Yong and Jia Pingwa ... It took thousands of years to produce one. How can it be so easy to find among us? I'm just fooling myself. The second-class man in building 5 admitted it himself. Our room is only 12 square meters, with four beds (fortunately, it's not bunk beds) and two tables by the window (there are no my things on it). It's usually quiet from 3: 30 to 5: 30 in the afternoon. I can walk around alone, and it's not too small. I will spend these two hours warming books, writing a few diaries, cooking and eating as quickly as possible, and then taking a bath in the last few minutes. If the calculation is correct, when I opened the bedroom door with wet hair and slippers, the three historians must be sitting on the edge of the bed, smoking and drinking coffee with milk. I'm afraid of smelling smoke-my lungs don't want to retire early; I don't want to argue with them-they know more about the opium war than myself; I am even more afraid that they will call me old-fashioned and don't understand "Moore". I also hate the taste of their coffee, which is superior-do "historians" have to sit in bed in the middle of the night and chat with green eyes? Medicine calls this "insomnia"-neurasthenia? Under the gaze of their twelve eyes (six of which are invisible), I put on airtight sneakers (when they chat at night, I take my freshly washed feet out of the quilt to dry, in order to make them talk less-even if I want to, I don't have to think about words), and then I put on a handout and said, "I study in the evening, don't close the door!" Finally, go out from the third floor around the first floor.

It takes about five minutes to walk from the dormitory to the teaching building. I choose different roads to the teaching building on sunny days and rainy days. If it is sunny, I will stand in front of the dormitory for a while, and I can see the sunset most of the time. At this time, the sky is pale blood red, and the sun is big, round and golden. It is no wonder that Li Qingzhao once wrote the sentence "The sunset melts into gold, and the sunset clouds merge". This sigh often hurts my heart. I remember that when I first entered school, it was October. The wind in front of the dormitory was very refreshing and persisted for a long time, and people went with it. Now, it's nearly December, and a faint coolness hits my forehead. There is a path in front of the dormitory. There are many green grasses planted on both sides of the path. Every time the wind blows, it gives off a strange smell. It is said that it is called vanilla, and ice cream can be added. I remember one time, I pulled out a few before picking, and suddenly there was a fog in front of me, and the fragrance was light, although it was very light. The path leads to a small lake with a pool of several hundred meters. After counting herbs, you will see this small pool. It may be because there are too many nitrogen-containing nutrients, and the pool is full of duckweed and many unknown ferns, and there is no gap in the water below. I remember the day when I first entered school, I forgot to wear contact lenses. I thought it was the lawn. I was so happy that I ran straight over and fell in a few steps. Fortunately, a doorman stopped me at that time and said it was a pond, otherwise I would have said goodbye! There is a stone table by the pond, surrounded by four stone chairs. When the sun is about to set, I can't help sitting by the pond, immersed in the faint fragrance. I can almost forget all the unpleasant scenes with my roommates in the dormitory. Only here can I forget my troubles. After you sit down, go straight to another path, pass three teaching buildings, and the fourth building is it! If it rains, I'll go straight to the teaching building without beating around the bush. However, I have to walk through four dormitory buildings, the playground, the cinema and the corridor, which is five minutes' walk.

On the third floor of the teaching building, 27 girls from our Chinese Department occupy the staircase classroom on the second floor. I used to sit in the front row, probably because I used to have bad eyes and was afraid of being distracted.

"Shit, shit!" I jumped out of bed and looked at my watch. I have already missed breakfast. I finished washing with the fastest speed in my life, and then I trotted to the classroom. It's okay, it's okay. Before Mr. Wang came, I immediately found a seat and sat down, and then I remembered my dream last night. I don't know how many times I dreamed of a house. The house faces south, with a spacious patio at the entrance and a reception hall at the back. Across the hall is a long and narrow corridor, which is connected with a small patio. There are three rooms behind the patio, but I can't see the one facing south. Facing south? House? I vaguely remember the dark door. Is it 1 1 or 17? I don't remember! I'll remember it carefully next time ... just thinking, Mr. Zheng strolled in. Mr. Zheng's name is Zheng. He is thin, only about 1.7 meters. I always thought he was a strange man: his hair was only three or four inches, and even his roots stood on end; He has a dignified face, doesn't laugh often, and his eyes behind the lens are deep. His suit looks old and faded, but it is still clean. Mr. Zheng is a left-behind man, and his wife has gone to Hong Kong alone, and there is almost no news. But the daughters in history learned that the marriage between Mr. Zheng and Jenny was between their parents (family friends! ), the two played for two years, and then Jenny Zheng gave birth to a son and left it to her husband to fly to Hong Kong-they are really studying history! As a result, we "lunatics" are more sympathetic to Mr. Zheng.

"Dear students," Mr. Zheng opened the handout, "This one, page seven, please take it out," he said, and turned to write the words "Chen Duxiu" on the blackboard. Ah! My heart is half cold. I hate the so-called generals during the May 4th Movement. They only say insincere things. So I hung my neck and felt hungry-I forgot to eat breakfast!

"Li, Li!"