十三，四岁的时候，我认为天下最爽的事情莫过于作文得到语文老师在全班朗读。
语文老师通常是慢条斯理地走进教室，把讲义夹往讲台上一扔，推一推眼镜框，盯着天花板，谁都不看，自言自语地开始他的课。“上次作文，总的来说，一塌糊涂，一塌糊涂。大多数人没有读懂题。我求求你了，
在堆上那样多形容词之前，先看懂题目好不好！切题，切题 . . .”停顿片刻，他突然又拿起讲义夹，在里面翻了几下，“不过，也有人做得很好 . . .”此时，我的心剧烈地跳动起来，我希望下面说出来的那个名字是我，
希望我在作文中冥思苦想出来的那些熟悉的句子能从老师的嘴里再听一遍。如果真是那样，这一个星期我会快乐无边，我会下课主动擦黑板，会把书包里的零食分给几个朋友，会闷笑着在家里帮外婆打理晚饭。如果不是，
我会觉得全世界都是敌人，谁也不想搭理，晚上不洗脚就钻进被窝。从我的记忆和今天的观点来看，那个名字是我的可能性大约有百分之二，三十。按统计心理学的道理，这个比例有可能给一个其貌不扬，
智力中等的男孩带来足够的快乐。 大概因为这个原因，我对那位语文老师有特别的好感。
我们私下叫那位老师“眼镜”。眼镜老师虽不是那个时代的王朔或余秋雨，他的才气已足够影响一个三线城市的懵懂少年。要不然，五，六十年后的今天，我怎么还能记得他当年发表在省级文艺刊物上的那些文章，
还能背诵他那篇“简评《乡中水》”的评论的开头和结尾？
眼镜老师在教学上有很多创举，例如他教授汉语拼音四个声调时，写了一首很长的四言打油诗，每句的四个字都以阴平，阳平，上声，去声排列，我还记得其中有这样几句：
“阴阳上（第三声）去
非常好记
生活改善
心存感谢
. . .”
他常常别出心裁地搞些离开教科书的教学，我记得最精彩的是向我们讲解《琵琶行》。
“. . .
大弦嘈嘈如急雨，小弦切切如私语，
嘈嘈切切错杂弹，大珠小珠落玉盘。
. . . ”
一个初一的学生已经读过一些文学作品，但我还从来没有从文字上感到过这样美的东西。这不但是因为白居易的天才，还得益于眼镜老师的讲解，他的专注和热情的感染，因为他自己就是位弹琵琶的高手，他是校民乐队的副指挥，
他的老师是当时全国有名的琵琶演奏家陈天乐。
那个时候，一篇即使是名著的东西，如果不出现在教科书中的话，普通的中学生是很难找到它的完整版本的。我对《琵琶行》十分痴迷，离开课堂后兴趣也不减。有好几天，脑子中转来转去的都是那些精彩的句子，
和它们带来的美不胜收的意境。我在家里把能够记得的那些句子都记在一个本子上。有一天，我拿着记下的句子去请眼镜老师改正错字。他那漂亮的笔迹把几个字圈点修改后，没有说什么就离开了。好些天后，我和他在校园里相遇，
他叫住我，说，“跟我学琵琶吧!”看着我惊呆了的目光，他补充了一句，“好好学，以后再到中央音乐学院去跟刘德海学!”
下一个学期，眼镜老师离开了我们，据说调去教高中，我只能在民乐队里再见到他。
那一年，也迎来了我们这些出生不好的，或不好也不坏的学生们难以忘记的时刻，“阶级路线”来了！这个今天的年轻人都不熟悉的东西，对我们那代人却是意义非凡。简言之，就是你在那个社会上的任何行为和表现，
要和你的祖宗八代联系起来，和美国今天的“X命贵”相似。那些有为革命立功或苦大仇深父母的同学，所谓的“红五类”， 一夜之间成了班上的主角，当了班长班委，成了令人羡慕的共青团员，没有老师再斥责他们的“一塌糊涂”。
搞这一套我们的母国虽是祖师爷，比美国要彻底得多，但他们却疏而有漏：班上学生每门功课的考试结果和排名仍然要贴在教室里，无意中使大家都知道了班上那些佼佼者的尴尬之处。
王方成（化名）就是这样一位佼佼者。他的父亲解放前是烟厂洗烟叶的工人，根红苗正。他是留级到我们班的，可以想见他对文化知识的超然态度。“阶级路线”让他成了班长，于是他容光焕发，有意无意表现出一种政治家的风采。
在课间休息时间，他常常会在操场上或楼道里远远对着某个同学钩钩食指，招到他面前去“谈思想”。大家并不买他的帐，背后叫他“钩钩”，但你敢不买组织的帐吗？
新来的语文老师是个白白胖胖的中年妇女，使人想起一块玉，我们叫她“玉”老师。玉老师并不像玉那样圆润，第一次上课就给我带来一种奇怪的感觉，好像脱去了我宽松的绵质背心，换上一件尼龙紧身衣，
浑身不舒服。“根据学校和语文教研组的要求，从这一个学期开始，周记要和语文课的教学联系起来。”
她说的周记，并不是个人对有兴趣的事物的随意笔记，而是学校要求的，每个学生每周活动和思想按照一定要求的记录，由每班的班主任掌控。我记得周记的格式清楚地铅印在学校发的周记本里面，
其栏目有，“一周的优点”，“一周的缺点”，“一周有意义的事”，“如何改进自己的缺点发扬自己的优点”，等等。不管班主任如何强调这样的记录和反省对于培养无产阶级革命事业接班人是如何地重要，
大多数人还是不认真对待。班主任曾把“周记不认真”这样的评语写进学生每学期成绩册的“教师评语”栏，作为惩罚。我总觉得周记不是学生的专业，拿它来记点轻松的感觉倒还不错。我曾经在周记里记过跟眼镜老师学琵琶的一些感受，
记过他告诉我的“冬练三九，夏练三伏”，记过他讲的琵琶大师林石城如何在冬天带着露指尖的手套在室外寒风中练琴的事。这些招来了班主任的谈话：“你有点只专不红的倾向啊，要注意思想上的进步。”自那以后，
我也加入了“周记不认真”的行列。
玉老师宣布的这一招，无疑是把“思想上的进步”和语文成绩联系在一起，当然会引起大家对周记的重视，却减低了我对语文课的热情。
那一年的期末考试来临。在周一的语文课上，玉老师宣布，这是一次开卷考试，要求在五天内完成一篇作文。她转过身去，在黑板上写下了作文题：“难忘的一件事”。
“不是跟着你爸爸去看电影，也不是跟着你妈妈上街吃饭，”玉老师看着大家有点松口气的情绪说，“写你这一年里学雷锋做的好事，”她手撑着讲台，等着大家的议论声退去，继续说，“再说一遍，做的好事。记住‘这一年’三个字!”
这类作文像一坨不断揉捏的面团，我记得从学会写字就开始揉起。如果说那时的学生有点什么真才实学的话，制造这种“三股文”应该算是一个。程序也不难，首先是找到一件大家都不愿意做的事，不知是哪一根神经被触动了想要去做；
其次是发现这事做起来有多艰难，多下作，此时想起了英雄人物而得到鼓励；最后是把这事做成了，精神上感到无比的幸福和自豪。整个为文的过程，就像要把一块玉米饼子硬生生地榨出油来。
我记得善良慈祥的外婆有一次在家里抱怨：“我被几个龟儿子当成坏分子写到作文里去了！”原因是姨妈在读表弟的作文时，发现他的“一件有意义的事” 写的是和外婆的资产阶级思想作斗争。
外婆资产阶级思想的表现，是津津乐道地向几位表弟讲述解放前家乡泸州的那些美味小吃。
那时候我的“三股文”技巧不算差，为了期末考试的好分数，我更想要加倍努力。我幻想着把这篇文章写得像《琵琶行》那样，让人读了有一种感概，一种冲动，一种佩服（大概这是主要的），就像我读后的感觉。越想心里越舒服。
但是那一年里我没有做过什么“好事”。对家人和家庭的真心关爱，对要好的朋友的惦记和帮助是有的，这些东西岂能登上共产主义道德品质的大雅之堂？我那点小小的野心只能寄希望于妙笔生花。只要生得好，妙笔生花也是花。
我用了很多的时间寻思感人的故事和细节，花了更多的时间闭门造车。终于在周六的语文课上，把规规矩矩誊写在方格作文本上的文章交给了玉老师。
玉老师收完大家的作文本，放进一个大牛皮纸信封，然后从讲义夹中取出一叠纸，让课代表发给每人一张。“你们都知道初中部语文教研室在什么地方吧？下星期一，教研室门上会挂着许多大信封，找到有你们班名称的那一个，把填好的这张纸丢到信封里。
这张纸写什么呢？” 玉老师停了一下，很满足下面她要卖出的这个关子，“请你写上：谁是你的作文中所做的好事的见证人，爸爸妈妈，兄弟姐妹，同学老师，都可以。见不到这张纸，你的作文就没有分数。”
教室里虽然没有人惊叫，不少人的面色一下子严肃起来，我便是其中之一。我急忙向老师请求去趟厕所，一是想掩盖自己的尴尬，二是确实紧张出需要来了。
这是没有料到的一手，玉老师不好对付。我那篇作文的副标题是“肮脏后面的喜悦”，杜撰的故事是有关我们班教室门前的一只盛满生石灰的长方形木制痰盒。平日来来回回经过时，我发现它是大家离不开的一件用品，口痰，鼻涕，剩饭都往里面倒，清洁工不定期清理时，
里面已经非常不堪了。我想象自己某天在雷锋的感召下，为了他人的健康和公共环境的优美，把这个痰盒清理干净，换上生石灰，放回原处，一声不响，然后接着来的是满足和骄傲。真实的对象和描写，
虚构的行为和感想，对一个少年的语言学习并无过错，但那种环境下的道德压力，几乎使我面临崩溃。我在外面逛了很久，不敢进教室，直到想出了办法。
那天放学，我没有立即回家，我知道清洁工黄阿姨周六下午会来打扫清洁。我的打算是当着黄阿姨的面去把痰盒里的赃物倒掉，于是那张该死的纸上便可以心安理得地写上她的名字。太阳西落，
开始昏暗的教室走廊上仍不见黄阿姨的身影，我开始焦急起来。正在这时，我看见班上的“钩钩”急着往教室这边赶，像是忘记了什么东西。我心里大大地舒了一口气，便端起痰盒向他走去。“钩钩”见到我，
站住了。我故意和他擦肩而过，还打了个招呼。走了很远，我忽然听见他在背后说了一声：“这是作弊!”
我还是在玉老师发的那张纸上写了“钩钩”的名字。
一周以后，语文期末考试的结果公布，我得了60分，刚好及格。那是我在此之前和之后所学功课得到的最低分。
（2023年1月）
English Version ---------------------------
When starting to learn to write, one starts to get confused
When I was thirteen or fourteen, I thought the most exciting thing in the world was to get the Chinese Literature teacher to read my composition aloud to the whole class.
The Chinese Literature teacher usually walked into the classroom in a slow manner, threw the handout folder on the podium, pushed the frame of his glasses, stared at the ceiling, did not
look at anyone, and started his class like talking to himself. "The last composition, in general, was a mess, a mess. Most people didn't understand the title. I beg you, please understand
the title first before adding so many adjectives! To the point, to the point..." Pausing for a moment, he suddenly picked up the handout folder again, flipped through it a few times, "However,
there are some people who have done it well..." At this moment, my heart was beating violently, I hoped that the name spoken below It's me, I hoped that those familiar sentences that
I have thought hard in the composition can be heard from the teacher’s mouth again. If that's the case, I will be very happy this week. I will take the initiative to wipe the blackboard
after class, share the snacks in my schoolbag with a few friends, and help my grandma make dinner at home with a smirk. If not, I would feel that the whole world is my enemy, and don’t want
to talk to anyone, and I would crawl into bed without washing my feet at night. From what I remember and from today's point of view, there's about a twenty to thirty percent chance that
name was me. According to the principles of statistical psychology, this ratio may bring enough happiness to a boy with average appearance and average intelligence. Probably because of
this reason, I have a special affection for that Chinese Literature teacher.
We privately called that teacher "Glasses". Although the glasses teacher is not Wang Shuo or Yu Qiuyu of that era, his talent is enough to influence an ignorant boy in a third-tier city.
Otherwise, five or sixty years later, how could I still remember the articles he published in provincial literary and art journals, and recite the beginning and end of his commentary "A
Brief Comment on ‘Rural Water’" ?
Glasses teacher has made many innovations in his teaching. For example, when he taught the four tones of Chinese Pinyin, he wrote long four-character doggerel. I still remember the
following sentences:
"Yin Yang Sang Tri (Yin Yang up go)
Fei Trang How Gi (very easy to remember)
Shen Ho Gai Shan (life is improved)
Shen Chen Gan She (feel thanks in the heart)
. . . "
He often engages in some ingenious teachings that deviate from textbooks. I remember the most wonderful thing is explaining "Pipa Xing (Song of Lute Player)" to us.
". . .
The high notes wail like pelting rain,
The low notes whisper like soft confidences.
Wailing and whispering interweave,
Like pearls large and small cascading on a plate of jade.
. . . ”
A student in the first grade of junior high school has read some literary works, but I have never felt such a beautiful thing from words. This is not only because of Bai Juyi's genius,
but also thanks to the explanation of the glasses teacher, his concentration and enthusiasm, because he himself is a master at playing the pipa, he is the deputy conductor of the school
Chinese traditional music instrument band, and his teacher is the national famous pipa player Chen Tianle.
At that time, even if it was a masterpiece, if it did not included in the textbook, it would be difficult for ordinary middle school students to find the complete version of it.
I am very obsessed with "Pipa Xing", and my interest has not diminished after leaving the class. For several days, those wonderful sentences and the beautiful artistic conception
they brought were turning around in my mind. I wrote down all the sentences I could remember in a notebook at home. One day, I took the sentences I wrote down and asked the glasses
teacher to correct the typo. After correcting a few words in his beautiful handwriting, he left without saying anything. Several days later, I met him on campus, and he stopped me
and said, "Let's learn the pipa from me!" Seeing my stunned gaze, he added, "Study hard, and you may go to the Central Conservatory of Music later, and continuously learn from Liu Dehai!"
The next semester, the glasses teacher left us, and it is said that he was transferred to teach senior high school, and I could only see him again in the music band.
That year also ushered in an unforgettable moment for those students who were not born well or neither good nor bad, the "class line" came! This thing that today's young people are not familiar with is of
great significance to our generation. In short, any behavior and performance you have in that society must be connected with your several generations of ancestors, similar to the
"X Live Matter" in the United States today. Those students who have parents who made meritorious service for the revolution or had miserable life, the so-called "Red Five Categories",
became the protagonists of the class overnight, they became the class monitor and class committee member, and became enviable members of the Communist Youth League. No more teachers
resigning for their "mess". Although our mother country is the ancestor of this kind of practice, it is much more thorough than the United States, but they still had some careless: the
test results and rankings of each examination of the students in the class are still posted in the classroom, which inadvertently makes everyone know the secrets of those who appeared to
be protagonists in the class.
Wang Fangcheng (pseudonym) is such a person. His father was a worker who washed tobacco leaves in a tobacco factory before 1949, and his roots were red. He was repeated to our class, and
one can imagine his detached attitude towards cultural knowledge. The "class line" made him the squad leader, so he was radiant, showing the demeanor of a statesman intentionally or
unintentionally. During the break between classes, he would often hook his index finger at a certain classmate from a distance on the playground or in the corridor, and invite him
to "talk about political ideology". Everyone doesn't buy his account, and calls him "Hook" behind his back, but do you dare not buy the organization's account?
The new Chinese Literature teacher is a fat middle-aged woman with white skin, reminiscent of a piece of jade, we call her "Jade" teacher. Jade teacher is not as mellow as jade,
and the first class gave me a strange feeling, as if took off my loose cotton vest and put on a nylon tights, feeling uncomfortable all over. "According to the requirements of the
school and the Chinese Literature teaching group, starting from this semester, the weekly diary should be linked with the teaching of the Chinese Literature class."
The weekly diary she mentioned was not a personal random note on things of interest, but was required by the school. Each student's weekly activities and thoughts were should be
recorded according to certain requirements, and were controlled by the head teacher of each class. I remember that the format of the weekly diary was clearly printed in the weekly
diary issued by the school. Its categories include “What I did well”, “What I did not well”, Meaningful things of the week”, “How to improve your shortcomings and carry forward your
strengths”, etc. No matter how important the head teacher emphasized that such records and introspection are for cultivating successors to the cause of the proletarian revolution,
most people still did not take it seriously. The head teacher once wrote comments such as "treating the weekly diary is not serious" into the "teacher's comments" column of the
student's grade book every semester as a punishment. I always feel that weekly diary is not a student's major, and it's not bad to use it to remember something relaxed. I once wrote
down some feelings of learning pipa from the glasses teacher in my weekly diary. I wrote down what he told me, "Practice Sanjiu in winter, and practice Sanfu in summer." I also wrote
down he told me how the pipa master Lin Shicheng practiced in the cold outside in the winter with gloves showing his fingertips. These led to a conversation from the head teacher: "You
have a tendency to be professional but not popular. Pay attention to the progress of your thinking." Since then, I have also joined the ranks of "not serious about weekly diary".
This trick announced by Jade teacher is undoubtedly linking "ideological progress" with Chinese Literature performance. Of course, it attracted everyone's attention to the weekly
diary, but it reduced my enthusiasm for Chinese Literature class.
The final exams for that year came. In the Chinese Literature class on Monday, Jade teacher announced that this is an open-book exam, and a composition is required to be completed
within five days. She turned around and wrote the composition title on the blackboard: "An Unforgettable Thing".
"It's not going to the movies with your father, nor is it going out to eat with your mother," Jade teacher said, looking at everyone in a relieved mood, "Write about the good things
you did after learning from Lei Feng this year," she said holding the podium with her hands, waiting for everyone's comments to subside, continue to say, "Remember that the story you
write should be happened in the recent year!"
This kind of story is like a lump of dough that is constantly being kneaded. I remember kneading it since I learned to write . If the students at that time had any real talents, the
production of this "three-phase essay" should be regarded as one. The procedure is not difficult. The first thing is to find something that everyone is unwilling to do, but you don’t
know which nerve has been touched and want to do it; you was encouraged by some hero; you finally got it done, and you felt extremely happy and proud in spirit. The whole writing process
is like squeezing the oil out of a cornbread . I remember my kind and polite grandmother once complained at home: "I was written into the composition as a bad person by some kids in this
home!" The reason was that when my aunt read my cousin's composition, he found that in his composition titled "A meaningful thing "writing about fighting against grandma's bourgeois
ideology. The manifestation of grandma's bourgeois thinking is that she happily told several cousins about the delicious snacks in Luzhou, her hometown before 1949.
At that time, my "three-phase essay" skills were not bad. In want to get a good score in the final exam, I wanted to work harder to achieve this. I fantasize about writing this article
like "Pipa Xing", so that people will have a sense of feeling, a kind of impulse, and a kind of admiration (probably the main one), just like my feeling after reading “Pipa Xing”. The
more I think about it, the more comfortable I feel.
However, I didn't do any "good thing" that year, except the genuine love for family, concern and help for good friends, but how can these things be listed in the elegant hall
of communism's moral character? My small ambitions can only be hoped to come to fruition. As long as it grows well, the flower from the pen is also a flower.
I spent a lot of time thinking about touching stories and details, and more time behind closed doors to write the story. Finally, in the Chinese Literature class on Saturday, I
handed over the essay written on the grid composition text to Jade teacher.
After collecting everyone's compositions, Jade teacher put them in a large kraft envelope, then took out a stack of papers from the handout folder, and asked the class representative
to distribute one to each of us. "You all know where the Chinese Literature teaching and research section of the junior high school is? Next Monday, there will be many large envelopes
hanging on the door of this place. Find the one with your class name on it, and throw the completed paper into the envelope. What do you need to write on the paper?" Jade teacher
paused, satisfied with what she was about to sell, "Please write: who are the witnesses of the good deeds you have done in your composition, parents, siblings, classmates and teachers,
all should be fine. If I do not see this piece of paper, your composition will have no score."
Although no one screamed in the classroom, many people suddenly became serious, and I was one of them. I hurriedly asked the teacher to let me go to the toilet, this firstly to cover
up my embarrassment, and also because I was really nervous and needed it.
This was an unexpected move, and Jade teacher was not easy to deal with. The subtitle of my composition was "The Joy Behind the Dirty," and the invented story was about a rectangular
wooden spit box filled with quicklime in front of our classroom door. When passing by it back and forth on weekdays, I found that it is an inseparable item for everyone. Phlegm,
nasal mucus, and leftovers are poured into it. When the cleaners do not clean it regularly, the inside is already very unbearable. I imagined that one day, under the inspiration
of Lei Feng, for the health of others and the beauty of the public environment, I cleaned up this spit box, replaced it with quicklime, and put it back in its original place without
making a sound, and then I was satisfied and proud of what I did. Real objects and descriptions, fictitious behaviors and feelings are not at fault for a teenager's language learning,
but the moral pressure in that environment almost made me face collapse. I wandered outside for a long time, afraid to enter the classroom, until I figured out a way.
After school that day, I didn't go home immediately. I knew that Aunt Huang, the cleaner, would come to clean up on Saturday afternoon. My plan was to empty out the booty in the
spit box in front of Aunt Huang, so that I could write her name on that damned piece of paper with peace of mind. The sun was setting, and Aunt Huang was still not appearing in the
dark classroom corridor, and I began to feel anxious. At this moment, I saw "Hook" of our class rushing to the classroom, as if he had forgotten something. I breathed a sigh of
relief, picked up the spit box and walked towards him. "Hook" stopped when he saw me. I deliberately brushed past him and said hello. After walking a long distance, I suddenly
heard him say behind his back: "This is cheating!"
I wrote "Wang Fangcheng" on the piece of paper given by Jade teacher.
Week later, the results of the Chinese Literature final exam were announced, and I got 60 points out of 100, just passing. That's the lowest score I've ever gotten for the lessons
I've studied before and since.
(January 2023)