On September 1st, the Met

On September 1st, the Metropolitan Hot News published a set of photos called "Those Crying Faces at the Beginning of School" Newport Cigarettes. A girl snotted and shed tears, a boy cried with her mouth wide open and her eyes closed Carton Of Cigarettes, and a little sister even cried and rolled Cheap Cigarettes. I saw it in my heart, laughed, and involuntarily remembered my school experience. When I was more than one year old, I went to school for the first time in my life. My mother ignored my hardship and begged and reluctantly, threw me into the school bus and threw it to the teacher, and turned away. I struggled desperately in the arms of my teacher, crying to my mother. I didn't cry so hard, but a single rock stirred up thousands of waves, and more than 20 children in the car scrambled to cry. The crying was one after another, and the teacher was busy with this, coaxing that, and being very busy. The car was carrying a childish chorus of crying fathers and mothers to the kindergarten. The only child was no longer lonely. But the good times didn't last long. I left the familiar campus and came to another world that was completely strange to me: preschool. It was another semester. I only had to be honest for a few days, and I was ready to leave the class. I could n��t stand the forty minutes. When I was about to arrive at school one day, I refused to enter the school. I still sat down on the ground and let my mother pull, but I was as steady as a mountain. In the end, my mother tried her best to drag her into the classroom. I didn't shed tears this time at school, but left a little rogue image. The second year of elementary school started again. This time I grew up. I wore a white shirt and blue skirt and dressed as a cute student girl. I happily reported to class one or two. Entering the classroom, I saw a beautiful female teacher sitting on the podium with black hair and wearing a peacock-like gorgeous dress. When I knew that she was my head teacher, there was a ecstasy in my heart and I couldn't help but rushed up and raised her hand to kiss. I am full of longing for my new elementary school life. From spring to autumn, I should be in fourth grade today. It's the annual school day again, but I hesitated and didn't want to enter the new semester. Half of my heart is a happy "promotion", half is unspeakable unaccustomed. What kind of semester will this be? Will the teacher be stricter? Is the problem difficult again? Will homework take up more of our play time? The life of the seniors may be as cruel as the legend, which makes me uneasy. But after the school starts, the mysterious veil is lifted, the teacher is still kind and beautiful, the students are still lively and cute, the learning sea is still boundless, we still suffer Make a boat.

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