It has been fifteen years since my junior high school life left me. Time has diluted many details, but the memory of that early self-study morning is as fresh as ever. I was in the second grade of junior high school at that time, and the news came outside the window that a boy in the third grade of junior high school fell from the fifth floor. I remember the tense nerves of the teachers, the gossips whispered among classmates, and the heartbreaking cries of parents. We were too young at that time, and we only regarded this as a scary conversation piece in boring studies, and sighed: "Someone actually jumped in school."
Later, as fate would have it, I went to normal school and stood on the podium myself. After changing my identity, I saw more - I saw children sitting by the dormitory window, staring blankly downstairs; I also heard more about falling. As a teacher, I felt powerless in the day-to-day grind and finally chose to leave.
From student to teacher, from spectator to escape, I often wonder: After this system has been running for so many years, have our children really become happy?
Purpose: Explore education