有一次我教《乡下孩子》,那是一首非常清新优美的小诗,带着自己心底那些童年乡下生活的记忆,课堂上我显得异常动情,随着恬淡的诗句仿佛已经悄悄走回已然飘逝的岁月。然而台下的学生却没有被感染,漫不经心地,像在听—个歌遥远的传说。我有些生气。就在这时,我意外地发现我平时目光所不及的角落颤颤地举着两只小手,他是两个这学期刚从乡下转来的孩子。黑瘦的脸上写着些平日里没有过的兴奋与激动,就像两朵盛开在山崖的野花。那一刻我突然觉得;我必须放下我的教案和课本了,这时的讲台应该让给他们。微微嚅动的嘴唇分明有着表达的渴望, There was a time when I taught “Country Kids”, a very fresh and graceful poem with memories of childhood and childhood in my heart. I became so emotionally aroused in the classroom. As the tranquil verses seemed to have quietly gone back The years. However, students under the stage were not infected, carelessly, like listening to a distant legend. I am a bit angry. It was then that I unexpectedly found out that I usually held two little hands in the corners of my eyes, the two children who had just returned from the countryside this semester. Black and thin face written on weekdays never had excitement and excitement, like two flowers in full bloom in the cliff. At that moment I suddenly felt that I had to put down my lesson plans and textbooks and the podium should be given to them. Slightly moving lips clearly have the desire to express,