I don't know when it began to sprout, but it seems to be that time, when I saw that photo. There is a pair of hands in the photo, which are vicissitudes of life, dark brown, full of calluses, with deep wrinkles on the palm, and several fresh wounds and pus on the thick skin. Because in winter, my hands are red with cold and yellow with dirt. God, I really don't know what words to use to describe these hands. It has exceeded my writing limit, shocking! People can't help but feel pain when they look at their hearts, really, the pain of suffocation. That's a pair of children's hands, only 10 years old children's hands! Unexpectedly, vicissitudes of life are like a dying middle-aged man. At the moment, his hand is clumsily holding a pitifully short pencil, slowly leaving immature handwriting on worn-out paper, and a pair of clear big eyes are staring at me in confusion, which makes people worry! Tears, so unscrupulous, without warning. Those big eyes are asking, "I can finally go to school!" " But why are you still crying? "Yes, they can go to school. We should be happy for them! But I still can't help but feel sad, still so small, still so small! I should be hiding in my mother's arms and clamoring to go to the amusement park, but now I am still too excited to sleep for a day's study, risking hours to climb several mountains just to go to school! Moreover, the classrooms there are still open-air, with mounds as tables and chairs and corn as food. A pencil can be used for several months. The best classrooms in the west are also dilapidated houses, and the ground is covered with mud. Children who can't go to school are just helping adults, and sometimes they sneak out of the classroom and watch with envy, which will make them feel great satisfaction. This is the western children! Maybe my heart was touched at that moment, and that dream was carefully planted in my heart.
To teach in the west! This voice rings over and over again, with me year after year. This dream needs no reason. If there is, it is a western child, so innocent and lovely. On dry land, I would like to be a ladle of water. I want to be a teacher in the poor west. Although my strength is limited, I believe more people will come for those lovely children. I don't want to walk into a gorgeous hotel gracefully with a waiter's smile. I just want to take out my textbooks in the open-air classroom with the innocent smiles of the children. I don't want to go to the beautiful park to enjoy flowers, I just want to go to the vast west to see Gesang flowers bloom! Really, I never thought I would achieve anything great when I grew up. I just earnestly hope to be an ordinary teacher in the vast land of the west before the song rings and after the red flag rises.