村小先生我就读的村小是两排破败的灰色瓦房,没有围墙,远远地被扔在村东头,淹没于茂盛起伏的苎麻地里。一条踏出来的阡陌小道,斗折蛇行,颤颤微微地把学校的生气带进村子。学校有两位先生——大先生、小先生。大先生年逾五十,未见后嗣,终年携一家眷住校。学校背后是村里的坟场,高高低低,春 Mr. Xiao, a village I attended, was a gray tile-roofed house in two rows of dilapidated buildings. Without walls, it was thrown far to the east of the village and submerged in the flourishing ramie fields. A stepped out of the terraced rice trails, flirtatious, quivering slightly into the village angry school. The school has two gentlemen - Mr. Big, Mr. Little. Mr. Big over 50 years, no heirs, all year round with a dependents school. Behind the school is the village cemetery, high and low, spring