Third grade composition

In the usual study, work or life, we often see the figure of composition. Writing a composition can exercise our habit of being alone, calm our mind and think about our future direction. In order to make your writing easier and more convenient, the following are 8 junior high school compositions I collected, hoping to help you.

1 People are growing all their lives, and in the process of growing up, we are also constantly pursuing happiness. And how can we grow up happily? I try to understand.

I used to think that happiness is possession, material pursuit, and high above. With the baptism of time, I gradually understand that promoting virtue is a kind of happiness.

Hao Hao soup, a Chinese virtue, is enduring. Looking back, we should embark on the road of history and pursue Chinese virtues. Only to find that the roadside and riverside are full of flowers of Chinese virtues, which are endless.

But what is Chinese virtue? "The first time I was filial to my brother, the second time I believed that I loved everyone, and if I was kind and spared no effort, I would learn literature." In my opinion, the preface of this subject can be regarded as the definition of China's virtue.

Open the ancient historical books, and the fragrance is fragrant. In order to save his father, I saw Ti Ying chasing the prison car, with a complaint in his hand, complaining to the Chinese Emperor all the way, and his father finally avenged him; I saw the tail student under the beam bridge struggling in the river, preferring to lose his life rather than keep his word; I saw this self-recommended volunteer devote himself to serving the country, defying hardships and dangers, and bowing before Ping Yuanjun with amazing courage. ...............................................................................................................................................

There is some helplessness. In today's society, more and more voices are shouting: "We have lost our virtue!" Actually, it is not. Alipa, a kind mother in Xinjiang, devoted herself to raising 19 orphans of all ethnic groups for decades. Isn't this the power of virtue? Zhang Zhengxiang, who is persistent, has devoted himself to defending Dianchi Lake for 26 years, keeping it clean at the expense of his family. Isn't this the power of virtue? Yangtze University 13 students built a human wall hand in hand and saved two drowning boys. Unfortunately, three people died. Isn't this the power of virtue? Virtue has always been in this society, virtue has always been around us. It's just that we "don't know the true face of Lushan Mountain, but we were born here."

Chinese virtue is the immortal light in the blood and bones of our Chinese sons and daughters, and it cannot be forged, just as wood grain originates from wood heart. As we grow up, virtue also bears fruit and eventually grows into a towering book. In the end, we are the sum of our personalities.

Virtue is the water that moistens our dry hearts, and kindness is like water!

Open your heart, carry forward Chinese virtues and lead a happy growth!

As the Spring Festival is approaching, Huang Jingwei, Liang Lei and I went to the welfare home to visit the children there with oranges, apples, Wangwang spree and other gifts.

When we came to the welfare home, led by Yang Dean, we first came to the preschool children's classroom. The children are all resting in chairs. We gave oranges and apples to each child, poured large packages of food on the table to share with them and extended cordial greetings to them. Yang Dean said that these children who can go to preschool are already children with low disease level. She also told us that all the children here have no parents. Shortly after leaving the classroom, we sent them sign language practice "Grateful Heart".

On the second floor, we walked lightly into the dormitory for seriously ill children. The sight inside made me sad: children under three or four years old were tied to chairs, unable to defecate ... Yang Dean said: "The children here are all patients with severe cerebral palsy. They don't have any thoughts, and even their aunts who take care of them every day don't recognize them. "

I was deeply moved by this activity of offering love. Our living conditions are relatively good now, and some people are still "naked and unable to make ends meet", but the children in welfare homes always suffer from illness without the care of their parents ... The living conditions are very different from ours!

I think that as long as everyone does a little, we can make the world full of care; As long as everyone gives a love, the world will become a beautiful tomorrow!

Let's sincerely bless them!

Every time I think of those gentle eyes you used to look at me, I will be suddenly enlightened. Every time I think of your warm palm that soothes me, I will be deeply moved. Every time I think of you hugging my warm arms, I will be grateful. Every time I think of it, my world is warm in spring in bloom.

Every time I think of your gentle eyes staring at me, I think: that day, you were chatting with a teacher, pointing downstairs through the window. I was half-heartedly doing abacus mental arithmetic at that time. Seeing your movements, I stumbled to your side full of curiosity, grabbed the window and climbed up, learning to look down from you. You were surprised at my curious behavior for a while, and then you laughed in fear. Please pat me on the head and let me be careful. He turned around awkwardly, staggered to the blackboard with a big belly, and wrote two big words on it: "Good thing." I can't read, so I stare at your handwriting. You looked at me, smiled again, pointed to those two big characters and read them word by word. I finally understood the implication of the teacher, blushed deeply and ran to my seat in embarrassment. I looked up, the teacher's gentle eyes intertwined with mine, and I understood the meaning of the teacher's eyes. I should be serious, not half-hearted. I nodded and buried myself in my head again.

You taught me to concentrate, thank you, teacher!

Every time I think of the warm palm you once comforted me, I will think of: that day, I cried and said to you, "Mom hasn't taken me home yet!" " "You wiped the tears from my face with warm hands and said gently," Never mind, the teacher is with you, don't be afraid! ""Then, your hand took my tender little hand, and the warmth of the palm seemed to have powerful magic, which made me no longer afraid of being young. You kept holding my hand until nightfall, and my mother came in a hurry. You give me to my mother, and then you leave safely and disappear into the night. I have been watching you go far, you have no idea how much my gentle heart likes you!

You gave my mother warmth, thank you, teacher!

Every time I think of you hugging my warm arms, I think: there was a loud noise in the dormitory during my nap that day, and then I cried. You came to me with heavy and anxious steps. It turned out that I fell out of bed and got a big bag on my forehead. I have been crying loudly, and you comforted me with a gentle voice, making my crying stop slowly. In order not to hurt me, regardless of pregnancy and physical inconvenience, you picked me up and ran to take me to the infirmary. I sat in the hospital bed, watching your face turn from ruddy to pale and sweating. I looked at you anxiously: "Teacher, are you all right?" "Nothing, nothing!" You waved. "The teacher will go back to take care of other children. Don't be naughty here! " "well! Teacher, you go quickly! " You reached out and touched my face. It's so cold! I didn't expect you to faint just after you got out of the infirmary.

You let my young heart feel the love beyond family for the first time. Thank you teacher!

Recalling your helplessness and spoil every time you face my prank, your anxiety and worry every time you face my injury, your care and gentleness every time you face my helplessness, you always smile and even burst into tears. Dear teacher, when I think of you, my world is warm in spring in bloom!

In my dream, I saw the cold sea again. I walked forward, far away. I know, I am a ship, only belonging to the distance.

I use struggle to make white sails, fly with tomorrow and shout together.

As a ship, I can hear the deep call of the sea: Come on! Fight the storm! I saw the notes floating in the starry sky, underground and on the waves, the ethereal song of the daughter of the sea and Poseidon's solemn horn. They are all saying to me: fight the storm! Go ahead!

The future needs to face the storm, but I can't refuse the call of the sea, because I am a ship. I love the sea. At any time, its calmness and fury always fascinate me.

I don't know whether I love the sea because I am a boat or I am a boat because I love the sea.

Anyway, I am a ship now, and my destination is far away, and the road is the sea.

I moved on. ...

Did you get a look at him? That's the petrel flying out of Gorky's poem. It will be my partner.

What a lovely spirit, it holds the light of the lighthouse and perches on my mast.

The storm came, which inspired me to face a terrible disaster like a brave soldier. Look forward to the beauty after the storm together. ...

No sea, no starry sky, no storm, no petrel. They stay in my heart. I believe I am a ship. Since I am a ship, I will sail. The wind and waves can't be avoided, but they can't stop me from sailing, because I am a ship and only belong to the distance. ...

There are countless white petals falling from the sky, silently.

I opened my hazy eyes and saw a pure white world. Surprised eyes, following a petal flying in the air, gradually touched the ground ... one, two, three ... the ground is already a thick layer.

"Grandma, I want to play with snow."

"Good, good, grandma will take you."

"No, I'll go by myself!"

I rushed out of the room happily, put on my wide rain boots and couldn't wait to open the door.

"Wow-it's so beautiful!" I just stood there, forgetting my frozen hands and trembling body, only to see pieces of glittering and translucent snowflakes hanging on the branches.

I stumbled downstairs, as if to blend in with this snowy world.

"Slow down, don't fall-"

I ignored it and just rushed to the snow.

The snow is flying sideways. I always hope to follow a snowflake until it falls gently. However, I'm not as fast as snowflakes. It seems to be playing with me, jumping, exulting, going up and down, and then landing gently like an angel. So, I shifted my goal in frustration. ...

I always reach out eagerly and rush to catch that snowflake, but it is more naughty than me. Inadvertently, I fell, and it landed gracefully on my shoulder. I always stomp my feet in disgust, as if to crush that annoying snowflake just now. ...

This is the world of snow. ...

I opened my eyes and looked up in an illusory dream. It really snows outside the window.

I smiled gently, for the sake of my ignorant childhood in my dream.

At this time, a piece of white snow hit the window bar, as if calling me. I stretched and walked out of the room.

This snow, no longer swirling, is just pieces, very petite, and seems to have dispersed before landing.

I remembered the "snow chasing game" in my dream again, and suddenly I miss that small time. I haven't seen the scene of heavy snow for too long, let alone chasing snowflakes … I know, I don't have to chase them at all, because there are always one or two snowflakes that will gently fall on my shoulders and hit my palm with the wind. So, I just stood there, waiting for the snowflake to brush my face little by little.

Somehow, it was a little boring, and the pleasant feeling gradually disappeared ... I looked up at the sky, which was a little blurred, and the snow fell obliquely ... I seemed to understand something and started running. Ah, I caught up. I can easily catch up with every white petal I want to follow. Facing the wind, I seem to have returned to my childhood. This time, I saw snowflakes and smiled. ...

I suddenly opened my eyes and there was silence outside the window.

I shook my head and came back from my dream. This is not my hometown. There are no sparkling snowflakes here. I looked down and said to myself.

I sighed: Sometimes, life is like a dream, and those dreams are real and real.

I took a deep breath, as if I smelled the fragrance of snow, as if I had returned to the time of chasing snow. ...

Under the scholarly sky, I appreciate the detachment of "looking at bloom in front of the court and clouds in the sky"; Feel the atmosphere of "life is like a dream, a bottle is still in January"; I imagine the desolation of "everything is wrong, everything is done, tears flow first"; You can also taste the beauty of "the shadow is shallow and the fragrance floats on the moon"; I can better understand the confidence that one day I will ride the wind and waves, sail straight and cross the deep sea! Under the scholarly sky, I know the meaning and value of life, and I gradually understand that our world is a space where truth, goodness, beauty and falsehood and ugliness constantly struggle, but I am also more convinced that the shining beauty of human nature is the eternal glory in the universe.

My mother was the first to knock on the door of "book fragrance". My mother taught me to recite Tang poems, recite lyrics and tell me stories. The most beautiful picture of my childhood is that my mother took my hand and strolled by the Slender West Lake with "two orioles singing green willows and a row of egrets flying to the sky"; The most unforgettable sentence is that when my mother was telling the story of the mermaid princess, the mermaid princess finally turned into a bubble and disappeared into the vast sea. My mother looked at my tearful eyes and said, "The mermaid princess always wanted to be human, but she didn't know that when she gave up her life for the happiness of others, she was already the most beautiful person."

It was several years ago that I entered the "scholarly family". I gave up a lot of playing time and chose reading. What I have been reluctant to part with is Dai Yu's funeral lyrics, "Flowers fade all over the sky, who pity red and sell incense"; I can't forget Tess's gentleness and Sanmao's delicacy. I can't get over the ending of Home, Spring and Autumn ... When I went to Qinhuai River with my mother, I seemed to see Qinhuai River in the shadow of the paddle lamp written by Zhu Ziqing. Is the thick green accumulated in the history of the Six Dynasties condensed by the gold powder of the Six Dynasties? I often wonder whether there is a poet singing "Gently, I am leaving as I am coming" in the gentle waves of Cambridge University ... and a strong woman trying to describe her "dream house" in the Sahara desert? ...

I finally walked under the sky of scholars. I believe that as long as I persist, I will paint a better world with my pen.

I have no memory of that summer. The hot air seeping out of the air is covered by the smell of disinfectant and disappears indifferently. Every time I open my eyes, everything is white. Either sleep or stare out the window. This is all I can do. Don't worry about anything, don't worry about anything, as long as I wait for tomorrow, the day after tomorrow, the day after tomorrow … this boring summer vacation, I can run out of the hospital gate.

The air conditioner is on 24 hours a day. I thought the vague midsummer in my memory was just my fantasy. Cicada never barks, and pedestrians always wear long sleeves. ...

I don't remember, when did I get "the summer of solstice hasn't come yet"? Dark green books really don't matter at first. Who gave it to me? Let me search my heart, but I still can't remember. It should be afternoon. I'm really bored. I rummaged through the cupboard for the latest books. "Summer solstice" appears many times. Out of longing for the summer vacation that should be happy with me, I was very patient and read the book that I didn't like at first sight for the first time.

In the Woods not far from the window, there are always hundreds of cicadas singing symphonically in summer. Camphor trees are green and lush, with a strange bright turquoise color. The sunshine is really comfortable. The oblique long shadow printed on the ground confirms the mark of my existence. The sunset has dyed the sky red, dyed the running teenager red, but the childishness on his face can't hide his yearning for the future. That was the summer I saw in Summer Before the Solstice.

It seems that there is really hot air blowing on my face, although the air conditioner around me is still cold all day, as if the clear and transparent blue sky outside the window is not far away from me, although we are separated by billions of light years.

One page, two pages, three pages ... just like turning pages with your fingers, one afternoon in summer, I did an interesting thing for the first time. Sunshine is also gentle, for fear of disturbing me. I didn't close the ink until the paper in my hand was golden red, and the indoor light was turned on again. I suddenly realized that I had made friends. I walked to the door and looked back at the book that was dyed the same color. I smiled. Look, my friend is in that book. It just appears in the form of words.

The vigorous and powerful fonts, stroke by stroke, engraved their times. The teenagers in the story once shouted at Xia Hong on the horizon, rushed to the unknown front with the wind chasing light, looked into the eyes of the endless blue sky and held their dreams forever. I saw it. One afternoon, Chang Xia, who just got off the train, was shocked when he first saw the prosperity of Beijing. Heard, the "rustling" sound of pencil and paper friction, dim light, is a small company delicate and pretty face, Lu Zhiang walking alone in the streets of Tokyo, thinking that dazzling neon lights can make him forget the cold in his heart; The evening breeze blew away the last bright and flying coat, which was lonely ................................................................................................................................................................. No matter how hard we dug it, we couldn't get it back.

The next day, I kept looking at it. In just a few hours, they spent ten years. From the joy of meeting to the pain of parting, 3 14 thousand words are just their whole youth. The price of time is really chilling. Tears just fell on the page, rendering endless sadness, like mourning their lost youth, tears always stay in the last two lines.

"Those boys taught me to grow up, and those girls taught me to love."

I really thought the distance between me and them was "-0. 1cm". When I was distracted, I was already standing on the long-lost balcony looking at the dim light and the lost youth. I am separated from them by a dimension. I really hope the story can be as beautiful as the beginning. After all, weak lives and fragile years can't bear too much grandeur, and their meaning of existence will eventually deteriorate or even disappear with the so-called youth and darkness. So I hate time. What is the time outside of time? Is it reincarnation and then living in such a world? I think it is beautiful, but it is extremely ugly; I think time is painful, but it shows a strange beauty; I wanted to abandon the world, only to find that the world abandoned me first.

There is no ideal I must pursue, and there is no imprisoned youth. If the rising sun is to illuminate the road ahead of us, if the night comes just to let a wandering heart find a home, if there is, I am willing to go to the other side empty-handed, but I have a dream in my heart, but I have my tomorrow. Then I thought, like everyone from summer solstice, I will make that life shine in colorful years.

As long as there is bloom, it will be scattered into mud and ground into dust, and only the fragrance will remain. I don't regret it, at least I tried. At least I did. I grew up.

The 36 hours I spent with them and the ten years they spent with me have never been bleak. At least in this life, I will never forget having such a person to grow up with me. Fireflies are flying in the night sky. The summer when I met them was the best time in my life.