Shen Zhiwei has taught Chinese for ten years.
She gets up at six o'clock every day, takes the bus to school for forty minutes, reads in the morning, has four classes, has a lunch break to grade essays, studies in the evening, and gets home at ten o'clock. Ten years are like one day.
The only thing that hasn't changed is her gray sweater. My mother knitted it while sitting on the balcony for three months when her depression was at its worst. There was a small knot on the inside of the collar of the sweater that she could feel every time she wore it.
At the beginning of the new semester, someone in the parent group took a photo of her waiting for the bus. The voice in the group changed from "wearing the same thing every day" to "suggesting depression", from "affecting students' mentality" to anonymous voting - 47 votes were in favor of "suggesting to adjust the clothing".
The principal said: There is no problem with your teaching, but the parents' voices are loud. Just cooperate, apologize, and the matter will be over.
She didn't apologize.
An internal notice, a class suspension, and an unregistered group vote.
Until she stood on the podium and gave the last lesson, put the chalk back into the iron box, patted the dust on her shoulders, walked out of the school gate and never looked back.
She only took the gray sweater with her.
With a boyfriend who writes code.
Reader comments
It's very good. It reflects the cases of teachers being reported by parents because of very small things. It is written in a very vivid and vivid way, which makes people have endless aftertaste. Even if you are not a teacher, you can feel the hard work of being a teacher. It has the exaggerated flavor of Yu Hua.
It's very good. It reflects the cases of teachers being reported by parents because of very small things. It is written in a very vivid and vivid way, which makes people have endless aftertaste. Even if you are not a teacher, you can feel the hard work of being a teacher. It has the exaggerated flavor of Yu Hua.