Ten essays on inheritance for middle school students.

Speaking of inheritance, I immediately remembered my ancestors' enthusiasm for the rhyme of plants. No jewelry is more noble and loved by a family than this kind of love handed down from generation to generation. The following are ten middle school students' compositions on the topic of inheritance that I have compiled for you for your reference!

Middle school students' composition with the theme of inheritance

Ink floats, permeates every corner of the yard, and the shadow of the pen soars, making a masterpiece in one go.

The study exudes a unique fragrance and stands in a corner of the courtyard. After writing, I put my pen on the pen hill. I smelled the refreshing ink, straightened up, admired every trace left by my grandfather's pen, and looked at the neat desk. The tools placed on it are as complete as the shelves for sale, and each inkstone can easily remind me of memories and infinite reflection.

My thoughts can't help going backwards. Grandpa's thin but tall figure stood in front of the table, waving his sleeves and elbows, and the wolf's hair soaked in ink left magnificent handwriting on the rice paper. There is no inkstone on Grandpa's inkstone, the original lines are buried in the cracks, there is no trace of carving under the simple appearance, and the dark gray black is as mysterious and beautiful as the midnight sky. My eyes narrowed slightly, remembering that my grandfather dipped the pen in ink and licked it gently on the inkstone, and the nib was stained with beige rice paper. It seems that the pen and man are one, and every time he pauses, lifts and returns to the peak, it is so perfect. Delicate pens leave sonorous ink marks, and elegant poems sublimate under grandpa's pen.

Thought of here, I couldn't help but pick up the brush again, straighten my back, think of my grandfather's appearance, carefully pull out a horizontal line after writing the pen, return to the peak to collect the pen, and then write a poem that I once hated. At that time, I stood at my desk all day, doing nothing, often scribbling, and didn't realize anything. When I realized the true pleasure of writing brush and the beauty of black and white, my grandfather was about to leave me.

Now, in the place where the Yellow Crane carried the saints to heaven a long time ago, I returned to the culture that my grandfather insisted on all my life by copying my grandfather's works and my mother's guidance.

An inkstone, a pen, they are inheritance. Family style and culture can only be passed down if they flow in everyone's body like blood. Calligraphy, I want to pass it on.

Composition on Genetic Topics of Middle School Students II

Speaking of inheritance, I think of my predecessors' love for Go, which is more noble than any rare jewelry.

When I was very young, my father often dragged me to sit in front of the TV to watch Go, put the chessboard on the table, and set up pieces to tell me the basic skills such as length, tiger, flying, flying and eye-catching, as well as various formulas. When he talks about chess, he always likes to tell me stories of his predecessors. Whenever I listen to them with relish, I feel a strong sense of pride and responsibility when I know that some of my predecessors' chess skills are unmatched. My parents' expectations and inheritance made me work harder.

My father is always willing to accompany me to the chess institute to learn chess. When I play chess, he often watches and shows me how to row and block. When I miss the fleeting opportunity to attack, he will clap his thighs and sigh regretfully, as if the most important thing in the world had been delayed. I thought it was a pity that I wasted opportunities and defensive mistakes, but later I realized that my father was disappointed with my poor skills and application. Whenever this happens, he always takes out a small notebook to record the chess game at this time. I often see him staying up late to analyze my mistakes after returning home. Explain the correct steps to me the next day, and let me see how to deal with similar situations when the masters fight. "Quick, quick, look at this step. If you use a tiger, you can not only strengthen the connection between two pieces, but also threaten your opponent. Your' Chang' is likely to be broken by your opponent! " My father's explanation always helps me to better understand the intention of the chess player, which is very helpful to improve my chess skills.

As I spend more and more time with Go, I can feel the charm of Go more and more. In order to inherit Weiqi better, I often find some chess players online to play chess and improve my actual combat experience. When I am alone, I frown and feel anxious; When I despair of deus ex, I will breathe a sigh of relief and experience the happiness of the rest of my life; I was very excited when I took advantage of the enemy's sudden attack; But when my plan fails and the tide recedes, I will be sad again. The beauty of Go lies not in itself, but in its connotation. Weiqi is rigorous and full of strategy, and it is not uncommon to lose the game with one wrong step. Only by using all your wisdom can you win!

It is the inheritance of Go from my father and me, and the beauty of Go has been integrated into my soul. This obsession with tradition was handed down to me by my ancestors, and I will pass it on.

Composition III of Middle School Students on Genetic Topic

"Poetry is the truest way to express feelings", which is what I often tell my poetry friends.

My favorite thing is to play with my poetry friends. Every time I want to pick up a poem, I always keep my eyes shining, straighten up, blurt out a few unheard-of poems, look at their approving eyes, make me happy and raise my smile.

Speaking of poetry, I always think of my grandmother. Her passion for poetry is irreplaceable. She always inspires me, infects me and engraves the most authentic poems in my mind. This must be the reason why I preach poetry.

"Poetry is the truest way to express feelings", grandma tells me this every day. Grandma stubbornly loved poetry all her life. When I was a child, I always held her hand and said, "Grandma, let's read poetry." Grandma stood up, said "yes" with bright eyes, and eagerly dragged me to the back garden. She always stands in the garden and sings a few words from time to time: "Falling red is a heartless thing, and turning it into spring mud will protect flowers more;" When the mountain flowers are in full bloom, she laughs in the bushes. "Grandma always stood there for a long time, remembering these poems.

After a long time, I also fell in love with poetry imperceptibly. But gradually, grandma's health is getting worse every day, but she still goes to the backyard to sing poems and enjoy flowers with trepidation. She told me: "People can fall, but poetry can't."

Grandma always has a pamphlet in her hand and opens the yellow paper. The crisp voice tells me how long it will last, and the whole word tells me how much the master loves it. Grandma gave me the pamphlet seriously, held my wrist and said, "son, these are all poems written by myself." I'll send them to you today. You should always remember that poetry is the truest way to express your feelings. You ... must pass it on. "

Grandma left after all, leaving only one sentence and handwritten poems. Nothing has changed, and the poem is still being recited, except that the person who recited the poem has changed to me, and I have been thinking that when I reach my grandmother's age, I will also think about how to pass on the poem. No matter what way, I will keep my eyes open, stand up straight and tell the younger generation that "poetry has always been an expression."

Poetry is always a way to express feelings without any separation. Our earnest persistence in poetry is the best expression of poetry. Poetry inherits the blood of our family, and our spirit is a kind of culture, but also a kind of inheritance of others.

Middle school students' composition on the topic of inheritance IV

The teacher of Chinese studies in primary schools is a difficult person to understand.

On weekdays, he is very kind to us and cares for us. Who is sick, he is always the first to care. His face is thin and his figure is thin. He wears glasses that he broke while playing with his classmates and attends every class tirelessly.

He is our most afraid teacher. Not only does he often talk about things that we don't understand, but he is serious and unsmiling. He doesn't allow others to gossip at this time and talk about China's traditional culture over and over again, regardless of whether anyone is listening. He asked us to write down our feelings, whether we understood them or not. He asked us to recite the classics. If we can't recite them, we should copy them. Looking at our resentful eyes, he will always be firm and put on a firm look that he has never seen before: This is the root of China culture and must be memorized.

In the Chinese class on June 1 ST, the child who laughed all day sadly entered his class. He still talks about his class, and his words and deeds, strokes and strokes mobilize his whole body's strength as usual. He asked everyone about Confucius' consistent way, but no one answered, and he didn't care, so he went on talking. Speaking of Laozi and Zhuangzi, I can't help feeling: "There are many classifications of western philosophy, including metaphysics and cosmology, but China's philosophy follows Laozi." Concise, subtle and meaningful, it turns philosophy into a whole that dominates everything and teaches us the truth of dealing with people. It will be very helpful for students to learn this. Whether he responded or not, he left his homework on the blackboard. I couldn't help raising my hand to call him, and he called me back. I asked, "Lao Zi, don't you think what you said is too professional and too difficult?" If we don't understand, what's the point of memorizing? "The teacher slowly put down his hand, sighed, hesitated, suddenly looked firm, finished his homework, and then gently threw the chalk back into the chalk box.

He looked at us faintly: "When I was in primary school, I also had a Chinese studies teacher. He also teaches us Chinese studies every day. He always speaks seriously in class. He told us again and again that this is the essence of China's culture for thousands of years. Without this, we will forget Confucius' loyalty and forgiveness, Laozi's study of black and white, and Sun's theory of hard white. You can't appreciate it anymore. "I didn't understand it at the time and didn't recite it. It is much harder to recite now. " He paused. "How lovely China culture is! Read more books! After reading Laozi's book, my life will never be empty and confused, and I will always pursue the Tao in my heart. Now, by reciting biographies, I have a yearning for learning from the past and learning from the present. Pass these on and give future generations a chance to look up. "

After that, he turned around again, as if wiping the useless blackboard, but when he walked off the platform, two more tears appeared on his choked face.

The next day, he didn't check his recitation and didn't check it again, but everyone finished reciting their homework.

Five years later, I went back to my alma mater to see him. Before he entered the classroom, he heard familiar voices echoing. His old black hair was quietly covered with snow, and his knife-cut face was covered with wrinkles. But his passion is still there, and he is still talking emotionally. The people in the audience were as silent as we were then. Suddenly, he saw me and asked me to give a lecture. I stepped onto the stage and, like him at that time, said emotionally: "People's lives are long and short, strong and fragile. Some people say that people are thinking reeds. Let's experience what human beings can do without thinking. China's ancient philosophy, extensive and profound, is about thinking, thinking about wisdom, and philosophy is their advice, the body is already dying, or has passed away. Listen to the voice of culture! " I looked at the crowd under the stage and looked at him with a smile, and my heart was like a fire.

That is the fire of Chinese studies, and the tradition of Chinese studies in China has been passed down from generation to generation.

Middle School Students' Composition V with Inheritance as the Topic

During the five thousand years in China, countless civilizations disappeared in the long river of history, but the food culture remained forever. ...

"Son, this steamed fish is my favorite since childhood." He picked up the fat and fresh bass and threw it on the ground. After the fish died, he scraped the scales clean with a knife. "Well, it's the hardest to shave here." He showed you the scales under the fins and scraped them off skillfully. "When I was a child, my family was poor, so I went fishing with your aunt in the river next to my house." He cut open the belly of the fish with scissors, hollowed out the internal organs, peeled off the black film covering the belly of the fish, pulled off the gills and washed it repeatedly until there was no trace of blood.

"There are many fat fish. Once I caught one and my aunt fell into the water. " You smiled and watched him take out a pinch of refined salt, put it on the fish with his hand, and stuffed the onion with golden roe into the fish's stomach. "I have said many times that I am not tired."

He smiled, poured the oil into the pot, grabbed a handful of whole pepper and sprinkled it in. With a "crack", the inherent hemp smell of pepper penetrated into the oil. "This is your grandmother's practice." He took out the steamed fish, doused it with pepper oil and doused it with steamed fish soy sauce, and the smell in the kitchen suddenly overflowed.

"Your grandmother always said that eating fish is being a man. Starting from the fish head, you must be a novice to eat fish; Eating fish tails, most people live frugally; Judging from the fish's stomach, you must be a well-informed old man full of fish. Your grandmother loves to eat fish tails ... "He was suddenly silent. You know, he is homesick, missing the river and the old man who has been cooking all his life. You patted him on the shoulder and put a fish in his bowl. "Let's eat." "hmm."

Steamed fish is delicious as always: the oil in the fish belly is milky yellow, fat but not greasy; The meat of the fish tail is tender and light; The fish body is elastic, accompanied by the limp and numb of pepper oil, giving people a pleasure between lips and teeth; Fish eggs are golden in color and have distinct particles. Dip in the rich sauce, giving people a fairy-like enjoyment.

You smack your lips and taste the taste of home. Steamed fish is not only a dish, but also an emotion, a key to awaken people's deep memory. No matter where you are, when the tip of your tongue touches this smell, you will know that you are home.

It suddenly occurred to you that maybe one day, like him, you will cook a dish for your child and tell the story you have heard countless times. ...

Middle school students' composition with the theme of inheritance

Bright and colorful crystal lamps are hung on the wavy ceiling overhead, surrounded by antique wood products, without much luxurious decoration. The family talked and laughed, waiting for the carefully selected food to be served. Today, we take time to have dinner together to make up for the reunion atmosphere that we should enjoy every day.

At the dinner table, I picked up chopsticks and tasted them carefully, with a satisfied smile on my face. We ate and talked, and my eyes inadvertently swept my father. I saw him staring at me with thick black eyebrows and wrinkled eyes, raising his chin and gesturing to me with his lips. Amid all the noise, he looked very uneasy. "Why are you making old mistakes again?" How many times have I told you, when eating, one must carry a bowl, and one must not mumble! ! ! "My father may not look angry in public. He picked up a small glass, took a sip of liquor, picked up a peanut with chopsticks and threw it into his mouth, which is often a sign of his concern. Sure enough, my father shook his head slightly and sighed in a voice that was not enough for others to hear: "Hey, when can I grow up?" "When can I have a long memory?"

I thought that because of a mistake I didn't care about, my father shouldn't take it too seriously, but I didn't know that this time I touched my father's bottom line.

When I got home, I sat on the carpet, quietly listening to my father's teaching: "On Mencius Li Lou" said: "Leave the building bright, but lose the child bright. If you don't follow the rules, you are not Fiona Fang. Moment is not right, not square; If the rules are not correct, they cannot be round. " Obedience is not only when eating, but also when doing anything. "It rained in Mao Mao outside the window that night, and my father's words were like falling raindrops, constantly awakening my soul. At this time, he passed on the family style of "keeping the present" to me.

Since then, every time I eat, I will think of my father's words and always pay attention to my behavior.

A few years ago, I went out to eat with my mother. When I heard the children "playing music" at dinner, I couldn't help but frown. This sound is too destructive to the mood of eating. I am grateful to remember my father's teachings. He taught me to obey the rules more for others. Although these rules are small, they always affect others without a shadow. People always think that details will not affect anything, so there is no need to care. Actually, it's just the opposite. One less nut will cause the launch of the spacecraft to fail; One less steel bar will cause a building to collapse; Lack of good family traditions will make a person's life no longer perfect.

"Five-inch square, the square of the world", the vastness of the sky, the vastness of the land and the pulse of home are all preserved because of its inheritance.

The seventh composition of middle school students with the theme of inheritance

Take the book and say thank you. It was a ceremony.

Open the yellowed title page and you will see a mind map with clear structure and complete context. However, careful observation of the notes of each branch is different. Because it was handed down from former junior high school students.

The senior standing in front of her experienced the first important exam in her life. She showed it to people with a rather serious face: "This note was handed down from my predecessors, please cherish it!" I can't help but see a picture in my mind: my senior is similar to me at this time, standing in front of the old-timers, listening and obeying the teachings. She took it with both hands, with the highest respect and the most sincere attitude. However, I don't know the meaning behind this "biography".

After being its owner for two weeks, I became more and more lazy to read the contents, so I left it on the bed and let the footer fluctuate in the wind. The scene is like a dying petal, falling one by one.

Since I entered the third grade, my life has been suffering. When I was in a daze, I accidentally found a fine poem in my notes-the blade comes from sharpening, and the plum blossom fragrance comes from bitter cold. I seem to understand the meaning of that "biography". And her so-called treasure is persistence.

I picked up my notes again and carefully studied the key points and notes word by word. Unexpectedly, there was a little impulse to leave a note in the margin next to it, which can be regarded as "passing" something to future generations. It turns out that this notebook was born like this: one person summed it up, two people supplemented it, three people revised it, and four people refined it ... The previous experience was passed down here. However, the material heritage is not thought-provoking. What made my grades significantly improved was a kind of motivation, a kind of spirit, which was handed down from generation to generation.

Under the string of Sophora japonica flowers, how many students warned the younger generation to study hard in the form of inheriting notes; How many famous sayings are vivid in the pages of small print and have become the motto of the younger generation. Red and blue pen and ink, different handwriting. But what remains unchanged is everyone's beliefs and dreams, and what to do for it!

Perhaps, one day, my handwriting will continue to be passed on to my sister. I want to warn her that this treasure, this inheritance, should always be remembered.

Middle school students' composition with the theme of inheritance

Speaking of inheritance, I think of an amiable old man. His life experience is very ordinary, and his appearance is also very ordinary, but in my eyes, what he passed on to me is not only a craft, but also a belief.

The first night when I first entered my new house, the sky was clear in Wan Li. The sunset glow in the sky floated down from the horizon like jumping brilliance. At this time, a deep voice broke the silence of the evening: "Grinding scissors-"The voice became louder and louder, but the shock it brought me could not be dissipated for a long time. In such a modern city, will anyone inherit this ancient but disappearing handicraft?

In the days that followed, this voice always came as scheduled. Whenever I hear this profound and vicissitudes of life, I always feel a sense of fulfillment and comfort: it turns out that there is another person in our modern city who is persisting in inheriting that ancient industry.

One night, the scissors at home happened to be dull. I flew downstairs as soon as I heard his familiar voice. I was greeted by a kind old man, pushing a song "Forever Shanghai" and creaking, "Little friend, come to sharpen scissors?" After that, he took my scissors, looked at them carefully and said kindly, "Are they so dull?" I said shyly, "My scissors have been used for several years." I saw that he took scissors to a smooth and rough grinding wheel to grind away the rust of the years, and then polished it carefully with a brick mill. Finally, knock on the anvil with a small hammer, from the blade of the scissors to the bolt. By this time, the scissors were cold, shiny and extremely sharp. Looking at the old man's meticulous expression and attentive eyes, my heart is full of doubts: how did he learn this skill that is about to be lost? Why did he choose this profession to inherit?

The old man refused to leave me for a long time and kept looking at him intently. After the old man finished his work, he told me an unknown history: his ancestors all grinded scissors, which was a technical job. At that time, people who knew this technology were highly respected in the county. Before his ancestors died, his only wish was for future generations to learn this craft so that people would not have to worry about eating and wearing warm clothes. However, with the development of modernization, more and more machines appear, which leads to the decline of this craft-based family. He stopped suddenly, as if we were the only ones in the world. After a long time, he said slowly, "I'll teach you this craft because I'm fast ..." There was another silence.

In this way, I became the "apprentice" of the old man. He talked about this craft with great interest, and the traces of years carving on his face could not conceal his heartfelt joy. He showed me tedious details over and over again, remembering that "sharpening scissors is actually boring." Standing there for a few hours and grinding it over and over again on the rough grinding wheel will also make you anxious and afraid of not doing it well. " Concentrate on one thing, it sounds good, it is difficult to implement, and the credit and essence of a day are presented between persistence. "The old man then told me:" I polished my tools day after day and practiced myself constantly, and finally I became a craftsman who not only knew how to do the skills, but also knew why. In the final analysis, the craftsman spirit is just one sentence: give life to time, not life. "I listened attentively and firmly remembered the above words. The old man's eyes shone brightly because he knew that the craft had been handed down.

After listening to the old man's teachings, I have a lot of thoughts in the face of the night sky. Modern people have no patience to work hard in this impetuous society. However, it is admirable that the elderly can stick to their simple beliefs because of the entrustment of their predecessors. I have strengthened my belief: to pass on this craft. Because I not only learned this craft from the old man, but also inherited many characteristics of craftsman spirit from him.

Every night, I can always think of the old man and his squeaky Shanghai. The old man's entrustment left a deep impression in my heart.

The sound of "creak-creak-creak" has been echoing in my mind. It is the voice of inheritance, and I will never forget it.

The ninth composition of middle school students with the theme of inheritance

A little warm yellow light illuminates the dark night through the window, conveying a trace of warmth. Holding the bamboo leaves I just bought in my hand, I stepped into the house against the sticky rice fragrance floating in the community.

Family harmony. The whole family got together and sat around the TV to watch the fierce dragon boat race. I took the bamboo leaves to the kitchen, washed them and blanched them with water. I put the fragrant bamboo leaves, white glutinous rice and various fillings on the chicken wing wood square table in front of the TV. On the table of the Eight Immortals, there are all kinds of fillings around, with bamboo leaves boiled to light green and glutinous rice soaked in water in the middle, like the aura of the protagonist. The difference is that there are not only common hemp ropes on the table, but also needles of size 14. Next, we came to the most anticipated Zongzi on the Dragon Boat Festival every year.

Everything is ready, and everyone is sitting around the square table with my cousin Kim, who just turned five. This is Kim's first time making zongzi, so I taught him: "Pick up a bamboo leaf, bend it into a cone at the wide end near 1/3, and put some sticky rice in it ..." Kim was smart, and didn't lose interest because he didn't understand the words. He just drew beside me like a cat. The elders in the family are all good cooks. They learned from their ancestors, but they are already familiar with the various styles of zongzi that are integrated into their bones. I once asked them why they were so serious about making zongzi, and what impressed me the most was the sentence "This is the closest time to your grandparents." I'm still losing the action of the traffic police, but I'm drifting away: many years ago, I leaned in my father's arms and she taught me to make triangular zongzi, grandma's favorite style; Listen to the story that he was beaten for being naughty when he was studying Bao jiaozi …

"Sister Fei, then what?" The children's voices broke my thoughts all my life. I smiled helplessly at Jin and handed him a needle: "Insert this needle into the corner of Zongzi, put the tail of bamboo leaves into the needle nose, and then wrap Zongzi together." After eating, Jin tugged at my skirt with his little hand and showed me the dumplings he had wrapped. I looked at Kim, vaguely in a trance, and then touched his head with a smile.

In laughter, the wrapped zongzi was sent into the steamer. Soon, there was a fragrance in the room. After zongzi was served on the table, the whole family wrapped it up and tasted it. A scent immediately filled the room. This fragrance is not only the taste of zongzi, but also the pulsating sweetness of home that melts into the bones.

Middle school students' composition with the theme of inheritance

Standing quietly on the long-awaited Hulunbeier grassland, watching the sunset glow gradually dye the sky red, not far away, Ma Touqin sounded alone, and the distant and desolate piano sound echoed on the vast grassland, lingering in my heart for a long time. ...

It's another bleak autumn. The wind rolls the fallen leaves and rustles in my ears. In the dust, a wisp of piano music seems to be crying and sent to my ears with the wind.

Looking inside, I saw a young man wearing a robe and hat, sitting alone on a bench by the roadside, holding a Ma Touqin in his hand. The middle of the trapezoidal piano body is slightly sunken like a horse's face, and the curled piano head is carefully carved like a horse's head. The man has high cheekbones and deep eyes, and looks like a national riding a horse.

I don't know what I'm doing, but I'm fascinated by it. With every friction between the bow and the strings, every time the young people sing softly, I seem to hear the bitterness and broadness in the sound of the piano. Some people say that Ma Touqin's melody is far more vivid than the painter's color and the poet's language. In my opinion, this statement is true.

Young people never stopped bowing, but as the music gradually reached its climax, their emotions became more exciting. Love to the depths, eyes can not help but burst into tears.

"This song is called Rhyme Lake, which is played by ABBA most often. After playing a song, the young man's excitement was hard to calm down and he began to talk to people. " When I was a child, Pan sat in front of Dad's knee. He drew his bow and played an old tune, which kept cutting. A distant picture did not unfold in front of me. Qiangdi, Liu Yang and Hu Jia are with Ma Touqin. This is my first memory. At that time, I seemed to have a unique affinity for Ma Touqin, a musical instrument belonging to the grassland. "He said, stroking the piano body, reddish-brown piano body shining. He said that this is a unique glory that has been touched by hands and soaked with sweat for decades. "Dad will also tell me the story behind the tune. He said that Lanyun Lake also records the glorious past-how many knights beat the desert Changfeng with scattered hoofbeats in the ruins; Whose bonfire and smoke, bow and shoot the eagle in the sword shadow; The apricot blossoms and spring rains that leave the south of the Yangtze River do not favor the horse-riding grasslands in Bohemia. "When I said this, I seemed to see the vast grassland and the lonely smoke in the desert in his eyes ..." Later, my father was old and dying. He hugged me and held the broken piano. Son, I'm leaving. You must continue. This string, this pulse and this feeling will not break. I watched him leave peacefully and buried him in the grassland. I can play this piano ... "

Perhaps, Ma Touqin is really a kind of affection, a kind of national blood, and a kind of historical dying feelings. ...

In the faint sound of the piano, I closed my eyes and meditated, and my heart gradually rose with the sound of crying.

Ten middle school students' essays on inheritance;

★ A selection of perfect compositions with the theme of inheritance.

★ 10 junior high school composition with traditional culture as the theme

★ Excellent composition with the theme of inheritance

★ Inheritance of classic topic composition selection

★ 800 words of high school composition with the theme of inheritance.

★ 600-word composition on the topic of inheritance

★ Composition topic with inheritance as the topic

★ Inherit topic composition

★ Composition on the topic of inheritance

★ Inherit the perfect composition of the topic

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