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Poetic factors are more beautiful than sighing, and you cry when you leave. A few candles and a few threads make me cry. Residual and affectionate, pity the mother of the world. A deep feeling, two lines of muddy tears, looking through autumn water. ...

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When I was a child, my mother waited quietly at the school gate.

As soon as the bell rang, the school gate was suddenly crowded with people. Pairs of companions are walking beside me, but my hands are playing alone in front. There is no warmth to grasp, no whispering in the ear, and cowardly tears flow downwards.

The figure dispersed, or a person, two lines of tears. She came "travel-stained", but I was deliberately stubborn, tossed my head and hurried away.

She silently followed behind, suddenly looking back, her eyes were red, but she smiled with tears.

At that moment, I understood that mom is a trash can for children's emotions. Let it vent and bear it alone. ...

Later, my mother put a bright red mark on my thigh.

It's raining hard, so I can't hear anything. Only a slap in the face broke the silence, and then there was a flood of crying.

She keeps a straight face-she hates me lying, but she hates me crying even more. "How many times have I said that men cry when they have tears!" I didn't expect this to be a strong medicine, so I cried even louder. There was a flash of anxiety on her face, but it was immediately masked by anger. She lifted my trouser legs, I struggled, but she caught me. She turned her head and gave it a sharp squeeze-endless crying and endless pain.

But I can clearly see the anxiety on her pretended calm face and the moist eyes.

At that moment, I understood that the deeper my mother hit, the deeper her heart hurt. ...

Now, my mother is gone, drifting away with her distant back.

In junior high school, she came to visit. Not many words, not many expressions-I am so cold to her. But she didn't care, and still sent warm rice, warm clothes and warm quilts. Watching her leave, I can't help but see her golden back set off by the lights in the sunset. A burst of tears rushed into the eyes, rustling down. ...

At that moment, I understood that mother is a kind of unrequited dedication.

I gradually understood-for sixteen years, she never stopped, never complained, that love, so deep, so strong …

Comments: This paper skillfully uses the structure of Yu Guangzhong's poem Homesickness, such as "childhood", "later" and "now". This sequential language runs through the whole text like a red line, summarizing the author's life course and his understanding of his mother. The gradual shift of levels makes the theme clear from vagueness, and the sentence "At that moment, I understood" appears repeatedly in the whole text, with an inscription-like statement and speed. The author extracted three fragments of life and turned them into three images: waiting, imprint and back. These three images are closely related to the author's mood and understanding of his mother. In Waiting, we see "young willfulness"; In "The Seal", we saw "the bleeding heart of mother"; In The Back, we feel that the author has grown up. If the first two "understandings" were just moments of inner touch, then now he has thoroughly understood his mother's love, her heart and everything she has done for herself ... It is very touching to read.

Comment on Teacher Huang Huiping/Xinbei Experimental Middle School

Torrential rain, sharp wind and dark night make it difficult to sleep. Tomorrow I will sit on the battlefield without smoke and bury my head in writing.

The torrential rain washed away the disordered thoughts at this time. My head slipped into a face I didn't understand, a word I didn't understand.

"See!" Father's eyebrows are wrinkled like being cut by an axe, and the stubble exposed is shaking angrily. "It is not good for you to fill in this junior high school in advance, but you don't listen, but your score has reached the line, but you still have to pay. What a black sheep! " My father's voice is now like a subwoofer, deafening, powerful sound waves, repeatedly impacting my eardrum. "One more thing, the senior high school entrance examination can't pass the unified examination. Don't want me to spend another penny. Stop reading and just work behind me! " After that, my father turned and left, leaving only that sentence I didn't understand lingering in my ear.

The rain is getting smaller, that sentence, I seem to understand something, but it seems not, vague and elusive. "Well, the exam is ok, but not yet. Remember my words: I won't spend a penny more for your senior high school entrance examination. " This is a faint sentence left by my father when I rushed into the grade before 100. I thought my father would praise me, but he didn't.

The rain stopped outside the window, and the water drops on the balcony reflected the color of the street lamp. The tense three years seem to be just three days of loneliness and tension in the blink of an eye. Now, I understand the meaning of that sentence.

The day when I filled in my volunteers flashed by. I looked at my father beside me in fear, wondering how he would write it. I watched anxiously as my father put pen to paper on the volunteer list. In the high school I hope, my father actually wrote a big "yes" in the column of "whether to choose a school". I looked at my father in surprise. Father didn't say anything, just looked at me faintly. The afterglow of the sunset pulled my father out of the long shadow on the ground. At this time, my father's face is showing the golden color of the sunset, just like a statue.

I suddenly understood my father's words and his love for me, but this understanding became slow and tortuous in the face of the great father's love. I understand that my father's words are an encouragement to me. At the same time, I also understand that it may take a long time to really understand something.

Comments: This article focuses on understanding the sentence "I won't spend a penny more for your senior high school entrance examination". From elementary school to junior high school, "the score reached the line, but I still have to pay", to "when I rushed into the top of 65,438+000", my father didn't praise me, and then he chose a school for me without hesitation when filling out his volunteers. Finally, the author understands that what is behind the father's sentence is: love, encouragement, or something else that cannot be expressed. The article naturally embodies the "process" in writing, and the realization of this process is naturally "slow", as the author said: slow and tortuous. What makes people appreciate more is that the article is full of "I" and talks about things in life.

Comment on Teacher Wu Zaijun/Beihuan Middle School

Sixteen years old is a beautiful and sensitive age, as if she got rid of the tomboy character overnight. In the fragrance of Cinnamomum camphora, her eyes became inexplicably gentle and delicate, and she began to see and understand the world with different eyes. Know a lot ...

Instead of pulling out the heads of clusters of green bristlegrass by hand, I began to like sitting among them and watching them shake their heads in the breeze. I prefer to gently brush the fine fluff on their heads with my fingertips, so that my fingertips can be bathed in the sun and feel warm. So, at the age of sixteen, I began to understand the happiness of every clump of green bristlegrass and every optimistic attitude towards life.

No longer arrogant, swaggering, began to care about the blooming and falling of every flower between the cracks on the sidewalk. Squat down and stare at this timid little flower, stretching her gentle but brilliant smile day by day. So, at the age of sixteen, I began to understand such a transparent and brilliant soul in the sunshine, and learned the courage to be confident and beautiful.

No longer hold an ant in the palm of your hand to play, manipulate its direction at will, and watch it panic around, flashing its thin tentacles in the sun. Occasionally, I met a busy ant chain, crossed their crooked team, and drew a vague carrying path with branches. So, at the age of sixteen, I began to understand the ordinary but equally great wishes of ants and their unremitting determination.

No longer poke the swallow nest under grandma's eaves with bamboo poles, but squint at their fluttering appearance. At first, I liked to listen to their clear calls quietly on sunny days. When it rains and winds, I open the screen window, put it in the weak spirit, and make a shelter for it with a shoe box. So, at the age of sixteen, I began to understand the swallow's attachment to the nest and the warmth of home.

I walked, watched and listened, and felt sad in the sun. Those delicate grasses, small flowers, ants in the flowers and grass, and swallows around the beams all exude bright glass colors in my life.

Stretch out your palm towards the sun, the sun will drip down through your fingers, and transparent flowers will bloom on your shoulders. Understanding, then feeling, feeling, then faith, ordinary people into life has become different and shining.

From a naive glimpse of the world to a staring gaze, I am full of awe for life.

Understanding is a slow process. ...

Comments:/kloc-a girl of 0/6 years old is affectionate, sad, lovely and beautiful. Her growth process is gratifying: from the green bristlegrass, she reads optimism; From the gap between flowers, she read sunshine and confidence; From the busy ant chain, she read the value of perseverance; From the swallow nest under the eaves, she learned the warmth of home; With the palm sticking out from the sun, she understood the true meaning of making ordinary life more valuable. Concise and lively language, vivid and delicate description, hearty parallelism and patchwork sentence patterns all give people beautiful enjoyment.

Comment on Teacher Yun Dongmei/Tian Jiabing Middle School Campus