The original text of the chronicle of preschool education

I was born in a completely uneducated family and lived with my widowed grandmother and mother. None of them know a word. People at that time were described as uneducated and often said that they couldn't even write their own names. My grandmother and mother are more thorough. They don't even have names.

The collection of books at home changes every year, but there is only one volume, which is the almanac commonly known as the "imperial calendar". They can only count from the pictures in the book that it was "several dragons controlling water" to predict the weather in that year. As for the date and time of the occurrence of the 24 solar terms in a year, the editor failed to draw an image, which is naturally unrecognizable. It was not until primary school that the confusion of the last two generations in the family was relieved and the "imperial calendar" was fully utilized.

Really, don't underestimate primary school students. In the miscellaneous school where I lived, a pupil was an intellectual. For example, Uncle Hao, a rickshaw driver in the same hospital, who has many children, wanted to "invite the meeting" (economic mutual assistance activities among the poor, but he had to pay interest), so he came to me and asked me to help him draft a "notice" of "inviting the meeting", including what difficulties I encountered, why I initiated this activity and what I should do. At that time, I was not in grade three at most, so how could I write! But Uncle Hao encouraged me: "You write as I say, and they all understand." So I took a brush and an ink cartridge and fell on Uncle Hao's kang. There is no desk at home, but only a mat on the kang, which is hard and flat. It's convenient to write on it. So he said I would write, and in a short time, I finished writing. Then I made several copies and sent them out separately. "Anyone who writes bamboo and silk is literature." When it comes to the definition of literature, there is a saying. Then, the Notice I drafted for Uncle Lao Hao is undoubtedly a lifelong literature, let alone distributed and published! I can't remember a word of this good article by uncle Hao, and my heart is divided. Uncle Hao is dead. He had no monument or grave, and all his hard work turned into sweat, which was sprinkled on the land of roads and hutongs and disappeared immediately. But for Uncle Hao, I can't forget it. I always feel that I can do something for him to feel at ease. In my opinion, a person's reading habits are always gradually developed through edification, which requires a slightly better cultural environment. My family and the miscellaneous school where I live have taught me a lot of knowledge that I can't learn at school, but it can't be said to be a good cultural environment for cultivating reading habits. I only went to junior high school, and my lessons were not good. Although I watched The Hard Work of a Bitter Child, it didn't have an immediate effect. A slightly complicated arithmetic problem, I hold my breath, who can I go to? There is no such teacher in the miscellaneous school. Later, I fell in love with reading, because I was fortunate enough to know many mentors and friends inside and outside the school.

It was the teachers of Comte Primary School who began to call me close to literature and art.

Once, a nearsighted teacher who didn't wear glasses called several of our classmates to his dormitory and read "Black Hands of Evil" to us. His room is full of books, and the light is very dim. He needs to read poems near the tip of his nose. He doesn't have a loud voice or gestures. He reads slowly, but it is very touching. When I grew up, I never read this poem again, but the impression it gave me remained in my mind. The teacher soon disappeared. Why did he have such great interest in letting several children listen to this poem at that time? I still don't understand. I often think of Comte whenever I pass by his former site. I always thought that he was either a poet or a revolutionary, and I always dreamed of meeting him one day.

There is also an art teacher, Mr Wei Tianlin. He was a great painter, but we didn't know his value at that time.

Comte school has an art classroom, which is shared by the primary school and the middle school. All students, big or small, have to stand in front of the easel for art class. First, pencil drawing, the pencil should be "6B" and bring an eraser. Later, I learned to draw with charcoal, which cost me a lot of money. When I asked my family for money, I had caught a glimpse of the adults' faces. When I learned that charcoal painting can't use rubber, but must use toast, I was afraid to go home and talk about it. I can't remember whether I didn't learn charcoal painting personally or whether Mr. Wei changed the teaching method. Anyway, this stage is not long, and later I changed to watercolor painting. Whether I can afford charcoal and bread or not, I support Mr. Wei's approach and let the children try again in a year or two.

Teacher Wei also had a teaching method, which we liked very much at that time. At first, I painted still life, small bottles and jars. After a while, he told us to go outdoors, draw the campus first, and then go to Tongzi River outside Donghuamen. The children are very happy to go out and paint. We painted, and Mr. Wei followed. He seemed very happy. In a sketch, there are many locust trees in front of the place I drew, followed by a row of dwarf pines, and then creepers all over the wall. At that time, I only knew that I had to draw everything I saw, but I didn't understand many profound truths such as emptiness, reality, thinness and secrecy! As a result, my painting is full of green trees, vines, leaves and stems, which are almost as green as a bee. Who knows that Mr. Wei is standing behind me at this time, and I turned my head to see him and smiled; He looked at me and my green works and smiled and praised me. What is it that praises me? There are some good paintings. Or are you brave enough to draw anything? Or is it not a compliment at all, but a helpless comfort to the losers? I didn't think so much at that time. Anyway, it was praised by the teacher, and it felt great. I had to draw.

Since then, my interest in painting has become more and more intense, almost extending to the first grade of junior high school.

As for Mr. Wei Tianlin, I didn't expect him to write this article. Ten years early. At that time, something called "exposing" Mr. Wei's "crime" was posted near capital theatre for some time. In that turbulent era, we all learned a skill, that is, to see a person's true value through swearing. It is from those printed materials that I know that it is such a great man who led me close to art for the first time, and I can't help but feel proud.

Two years ago, the art gallery held an exhibition of Mr. Wang's paintings, and I went to see it. I stood in front of my husband's self-portrait for a long time. He did not paint himself colorful, but he was as ordinary as when he taught us. I wonder what the art world thinks of him. I just think he is a silent sower. He once planted beautiful seeds in the hearts of children. And aesthetic education, I think, is very important for the healthy growth of children. I haven't been able to go to school since I was fifteen.

My school is provided by my family. At that time, my grandmother had passed away, leaving only me and my mother. Some of our families give us some money to supplement food and drinks; Some give us a room to live in; Some are more flexible and tell us when we are short of food. When we go to his house, it is always possible to add two pairs of chopsticks. And there are special schools that give me tuition twice a year. Before I was fifteen, I received such a "group training". However, that winter, the family came to my mother's house and mine.

"What are you doing?" He asked.

"Wen Shu, prepare for the winter vacation exam." I answered.

"Don't test. Now that everyone is not rich and you are not young, go out and find something to do. "

I was silent, and my mother was speechless. Eating people has a short mouth. What can I say? So I closed my notebook and books and ended my student career.

It was difficult to "find something to do" at that time. I want to buy some "resume sheets" to fill out first, and then let my relatives try their best to submit them in all directions. Echo, mostly not, but wait. Mother and son are waiting blankly for a vague future that no one wants to think about.

I have work to do in a daze. Inherit your mother's business and go to Dangdang. Every day later than school, I go to the pawnshop with my bag, and go directly to the grain store to buy food as soon as the money comes out. The family background is thin, and the money earned is only enough for a day's "chewing bag". The plan is: a catty of noodles, a few dishes, and some oil and salt for the rest. It was too late, so I made a small bet. That's lower than pawn shops, so it's a more demanding business. They are "convenient" for the poor, and they can take the pawnbroker's "pawnbroker" instead of receiving the real thing. There is no way to gamble any more, but there is still a way to find another "drummer" to sell the "gambling tickets". It is more convenient to sell. Every day, the clear drums in the alley are endless, and you can trade with a shout. Although the procedure is not complicated, my mother and I can gradually show the emptiness in a small room, which is closer to Uncle Hao's house. Or I am a lucky person, or life is made by many "accidents". After dropping out of school, in the days of "one pawn, two bets and three sales", I actually entered the Chinese Department of Fu Jen Catholic University, the highest institution at that time, and worked as a penniless college student for a while. That's because some good friends live near us. They are older than me, and they are all students of that institution of higher learning. They sympathized with my situation and mixed me into Fu Jen Catholic University. It's a good thing, but the first day I entered the school, I felt uncomfortable all over. My eyes only dare to look at the floor and stairs. I seem to have walked a long way before I entered the classroom. Most of the students in the classroom are already seated, and only I stand aside, which adds to my nervousness. I really want to turn around and go back to my home and my "free" life. My warm-hearted friend went to see some of his classmates. After they talked for a while, he pointed to an empty seat and said to me, "You should sit here first today." So I sat down. I thought, where should I sit tomorrow? Sure enough, I changed my place the next day. Every day after that, first I came into the classroom uncomfortable, then they chattered for a while as usual, and then showed me a place to live.

Even so, class still fascinates me. Xin Qiji. From their wonderful explanations, I can appreciate the beauty of these great poets: they can express their deep feelings and even lofty sentiments of worrying about their country and patriotism in graceful and simple words. How beautiful and exquisite, the language of our motherland! Every word, every syllable, is like a lovely elf. As long as it is properly arranged, it can express the most subtle emotions in your heart!

Although the class is interesting and attractive, the inner fear is not easy to eliminate. It took me a long time to know that professors in colleges and universities don't call the roll. Students have fixed seats, and roll call can only be made outside the window. If the seat is empty, he will draw "truancy", and as long as there is someone sitting in the seat, no matter who it is, he will draw "to". The reason why I can sit in my seat and change my seat every day is because there are always people absent from school every day. But at that time, I was fascinated by the lecture and always felt uneasy. Who knows when those students who spent money will suddenly break into the classroom and drive me away? So I often feel like a thief and a knowledge thief.

After that, with the help of my friends, I finally found a job. At that time, I was only sixteen years old, and my colleagues were twice my age, and most of them were old men who had quadrupled their age. They have nothing to say to me, so I can only respond with silence. Although there is a career, it is not enough to make a living, and the future is still at a loss. Just by chance, I found hope for myself in a job advertisement on a telephone pole.

Near where I work, there is a Sino-French Sinology Institute. The advertisement says there will be a French study class there and there will be two French classes every night. A "Sinology", a "French" and an evening school are a godsend for me. So I went to sign up. After the oral exam, I said my interest in "Chinese studies" and "language" and soon informed me that I was accepted. Since then, I have entered another special institution of higher learning.

This evening school is a temple of French literature. In the first year, as usual, I started with letters and learned some simple dialogues and essays. Moliere and Hugo appeared in the second year's anthology. Read on in turn. In the last year, read prose and poetry at the end of 19. The professor spoke with relish and the students listened carefully. So that in class, I seem to feel that I am close to "elegance". However, before and after class, I still can't help living my "laity" life.

I was living in Xidan, Beijing, and I had to cross Beihai Bridge every day to get to my work place near Dongsi. Usually I only bring one lunch, but it's just a steamed bread and a side dish. When you go to night school, you need to bring dinner. It is very uncoordinated to bring Wowotou into the palace of French literature, not to mention that the "palace" only burns heating without making a fire. Warm air can't bake steamed buns in winter, and cold rice is always uncomfortable. Fortunately, there is a small toilet in the yard outside the palace. To prevent the sewer from freezing, there is a stove inside. So this toilet became my dining room. Break the steamed bread into several pieces and eat it after baking. It is warm and makes me feel the original sweetness of noodles. After the sweetness, I went to class and listened to poems such as Bodhi Nightingale. After class, I have to walk home again. It's high and cold at night, so quiet that you can hear your footsteps. Walking and carrying my back, the road has become my best place to warm up. So is going to work in the morning. Write the new words on a small piece of paper, you can recite them for a while at a glance, and there will be no traffic accidents. According to my experience at that time, I could recite at least four or five words from Xidan to Dongsi.

"In bitter fleabane bitter fleabane, can't bear to be straight; White sand is in nirvana and black with it. " I really like these two sentences, and I always feel kind when reading them. I am glad to meet so many good teachers and friends under such a bad political system. They enlightened me and taught me the value of books, so that I didn't grow up randomly.