母校的门口是一条笔直的柏油马路,两旁凤凰木夹荫。夏天,海风捋下许多花瓣,让人不忍一步步踩下。我的中学时代就是笼在这一片红殷殷的花雨梦中。我哭过,恼过,在学校的合唱队领唱过,在恶作剧之后笑得喘不过气来过。等我进入中年回想这种种,却有一件小事,像一只小铃,轻轻然而分外清晰地在记忆中摇响。初一年级,我们有那么多学科,只要把功课表上所有的课程加起来就够吓人的,有11门课。当然,包括体育和周会。仅那个崩 The entrance of his alma mater is a straight asphalt road with Phoenix trees on both sides. In the summer, the sea breeze left many petals and people couldn’t bear to step on them. My middle school era was caged in this red rain and rain dream. I cried and annoyed. I was sang at the choir of the school. I laughed and gasped after the mischief. By the time I entered the middle age to recall these kinds of things, there was a small thing, like a small bell, which was clearly and distinctly shaken in memory. In the first grade, we have so many disciplines. It is scary to add all the courses on the homework table. There are 11 classes. Of course, including sports and weekly meetings. Only that collapse