20多年前,我正在家乡读小学。五六间茅屋在一个土坝上一字排开,几拢竹子青青葱葱。十几排石桌摆放在每一间土屋里,凳子是一些粗糙的木头做成的,坐在上面,小屁股被硌得生疼。大家穿的也是那种粗糙的土布,清一色都挂着许多补丁。我们的父母都是老实巴交的农民,他们在为我们缴纳二三元一学期的学费后,同时将一个割猪草的背篼或一份并不轻松的农活交给我们。但他们都很尊重老师,我们常常看见我们的父亲们在小路上恭敬地为老师裹上一根粗黑的叶子烟,然后双手为老师点燃,说:我那狗娃儿在学校不听话,您就给我打。当然,老师是不会打我们的。打我们的仍然是鼓 More than 20 years ago, I was studying elementary school in my hometown. Fifty-six huts were lined up on an earth dam and the bamboo weaved together. A dozen rows of stone tables are placed in each earth house. The stools are made of rough wood and sit on it. We also wear the kind of rough cloth, all hung a lot of patches. Our parents are honest farmers. After they pay us $ 23- $ semester tuition fees, they also give back a pig’s back or an unworkable farm work. However, they both respect the teacher very much. We often see our fathers respectfully wrapping a dark leaf on the path, and then both hands are lit for the teacher, saying: My dog ​​is disobedient at school, and you Give me a fight Of course, the teacher will not hit us. Hit us still drums