When Jiang Ming collapsed in the pile of lesson plans, he still had unfinished unit test papers in his hand.
After staying up late for three consecutive days to prepare lessons, make up for exam materials, and write rectification reports, my forty-year-old body finally couldn't bear it anymore. There was a twinge in his heart and his vision went dark - before he closed his eyes, he was still thinking about the "Quality Education Innovation Case" that the dean would ask for tomorrow, but he didn't touch a word.
When I open my eyes again, it will be the autumn of 2024.
The classroom with mud walls and gray tiles was leaky, and the wooden desks had corners missing. He lowered his head and looked at himself - he was twenty-one years old, a young mathematics teacher who had just graduated from normal school, assigned to Shengli Village Primary School, and concurrently served as the head teacher of the third grade class.
People who have died once have a terrifyingly clear mind.
He was too tired in his last life. I was so tired that I knew these things, but turned a blind eye, thinking, "Don't cause trouble, just teach the class well." As a result, the class did not teach Ansheng, and the people died first.
He didn't want to endure it in this life.
