千山万水的呼唤,只为你爱的回眸。在中学当语文老师的父亲,在我儿时的印记中,他就是一个只会打我的父亲:字写不好,体罚;成绩不好,体罚;背不出古诗,体罚。印象最深的是,有一次父亲让我背《行路难》,十二句诗,被我拼接得七零八落。他生气地问:“你有没有用心,一首古诗背成这样?”当我倔犟地回击时,恼怒的他按住我,就用画表格的钢尺子一顿猛抽。 The call of mountains and rivers is only for the sake of your love. The father of a language teacher in middle school, in the imprint of my childhood, he was a father who would only beat me: poorly written characters, corporal punishment, poor grades, corporal punishment, no ancient poetry, no corporal punishment. What impressed me most was that once my father told me to “back road”, twelve poems were splintered by me. He asked irritably: “Do you have any intentions, an ancient poem is back like this?” "When I slammed back, angrily he held me down and yanked with a steel ruler.