猛然抬头,我看见老师头发上几点晶莹的东西。讲台上,老师正激情昂扬。我朦胧的视线里,老师的身影如水中倒影。我看见老师发梢有晶莹的东西缀在脑侧,在炽热的眼光里闪烁。或许那几点晶莹是粉笔灰。我坐在第一排,每次上课,总有几多粉笔灰纷纷扬扬。老师却不管,只顾挥动长臂在黑板上快速画着弧线,任凭白色的粉末精灵在额前飘飞、跳跃,让白色的灰尘最后停在他的额头、他的肩上,甚至他的镜片上。白了头,脏了衣,老师却很忘情,如诗人般尽情抒发,重重地在黑板上留下一串串白色的印记。粉笔被老师写成了粉末,写成了文字,一片沉寂之后只剩下阳光在他的衣服上留下斑驳的印迹。 Suddenly looked up, I saw the teacher something shiny hair. Podium, the teacher is passionate. My dim line of sight, the teacher’s figure reflected in the water. I saw the tip of the teacher with a glittering thing adorned in the brain, flashed in the hot eyes. Perhaps those crystal is chalk dust. I sat in the first row, each class, there are always how many chalk ash have raged. The teacher did not care, just waving the long arm on the blackboard quickly painted arc, despite the white powder wizard flew in front of him, jumping, so that the white dust finally parked in his forehead, his shoulders and even his lenses on. White head, dirty clothes, the teacher is very forgetful, like a poet enjoy the expression, heavily in the blackboard left a string of white marks. The chalk was written by the teacher as a powder, written in words, leaving only a sunshine behind him to leave a mottled blot on his clothes.