In the last days of Dali Normal School

This time, Dali Normal School really disappeared completely. Three family buildings were suddenly included in the demolition list. After several negotiations, an agreement was reached. Some teachers signed their names and moved out within a month. Maybe two months later, under the roar of the rumbling excavator, it became a pile of ruins and then became a construction site. Later, it was unimaginable.

I bid farewell to the campus where I have lived for more than 20 years, to the flowers and trees in the yard, and to the neighbors who once helped each other, and my mood became complicated. Perhaps this farewell, this life is a farewell, each going his own way, a long road to life, where is home? A kind of nostalgia, a kind of disappointment, a kind of heartache.

The house has been rented to others for many years, but I went to see it this time to say goodbye to it.

Walking into the yard, I smelled a long-lost but familiar smell in my nose. The yard is a little messy. The walls are full of advertisements for collecting waste products, old furniture and buying and selling houses. Some cars are moving. I am in a hurry.

A white-haired old man, Mr. Zhao, walked in front of him, still straight and majestic. The wind and frost of the years left a deep sense of vicissitudes on his face, but what remained unchanged was heavy eyebrows, sword eyes, Chinese characters and a serious face. When he first arrived at the normal school, he was about fifty years old and was a "handsome uncle". He used to be the director of educational administration, and he was extremely careful in preparing lessons in class. In a short section, he can write a dozen pages of lesson plans, which are neat in workmanship and meticulous in graphics, and can be called classics. Year after year, day after day, I always see him writing at his desk. In class, he doesn't read textbooks and lesson plans at all. He talks and writes like running water. After a class, a blackboard is used up, just like a beautiful calligraphy masterpiece with pictures. The layout is exquisite and ingenious, which makes people applaud. I sincerely thank Mr. Zhao for his guidance to me and my wife over the years, so that we can go more steadily and further. Next to him is his granddaughter, a little girl of four or five years old, who often goes to the office to find his grandfather. Now she is almost thirty years old. Innocence becomes mature and steady. Time is really a knife. Talking enthusiastically with grandpa and grandson is like going back to the past. Buddha said, looking back 500 times in the past life, this life passed by. What is the frontier of our roommate's extramarital affairs for more than ten years?

Further inside, I saw Mr. Ma Xiangyi again. Mr. Ma is in his eighties this year. He is not tall, but he is steady and alert. He hurried forward to say hello. Teacher Ma still speaks slowly, word for word, clearly and confidently. He used to be a school leader, but he belonged to that marginalized position. Fortunately, he is indifferent to fame and fortune and peaceful. He has two degrees from Jiaotong University and Tsinghua. He is proficient in arts and sciences and clever. I have always respected him very much and admired his integrity, honesty, approachability and optimism. There was once a dawn, full of stars, and I met him on a long-distance bus. There are no seats on the bus. We stood in the aisle. I feel wronged for him. "You are so old, qualified. It is not a problem to tell the school to use the car once. " He gave a faint smile. "I am a private matter and don't bother others." During the chat, we found that our views on some things are consistent and quite speculative. Many years have passed, and I still remember the starry dawn, the long-distance bus driving alone, and the scene of two people holding the handrail and talking slowly.

Inadvertently glanced at the concierge. Isn't that Teacher Sun Zhibin sitting trembling on the stool inside? He is also in his eighties. He is kind-hearted, but he looks a little slow. Stuttering when greeting, unable to pronounce words clearly. I didn't know until I asked, but the old man had a cerebral infarction. With a sour heart, the old man has been kind, diligent and conscientious all his life, and he is also familiar with massage. I twisted my neck once, and it hurt badly. Thanks to the old man's free massage several times, the pain soon eased. Now I can't help but feel sad when I see the old man suffering from illness. I have to silently wish all the old people peace and health.

There are children in the yard, but I don't know them anymore. Looking at me curiously, a Tang poem came to mind: "When children meet strangers, they laugh and ask where the guests come from." The ignorant boy I once knew, who cheered and jumped for joy, has already grown up, left here and wandered around the world. Are they wandering in a foreign land, dreaming back to this paradise at midnight, looking for the laughter of the past?

People who have lived here for half their lives, but left in middle age, your heart will beat in a teacup on a foggy rainy day. Do you still remember this youthful time? Occasionally turn over the yellowed photos and turn over the past scenes, will there be a deep sigh like me?

Farewell, the red bricks under our feet are full of stains and green rust, and the weak ones have long been fragmented. Let us endure the baptism of decades of wind, frost, rain and snow, and let us trample on it day after day and year after year. This piece of red brick land, we walked by, children ran by, old people fell, birds jumped, dogs ran by and cars ran over. It recorded our running steps for life, witnessed our hasty aging and soaked our sweat and tears. Standing on it now, I still feel at home.

Farewell, the buttonwood trees in the yard have already covered the sky, but it's a pity that after people leave the building, they will be added with axes. In the last days, enjoy the bright sunshine and warm spring breeze. Really thank you, an old friend for so many years, for spending half your life with us, sheltering us from the wind and rain, holding up a giant umbrella for us in the scorching sun, and bringing us a little coolness. The bird on that tree, like a business girl who hates the motherland, is still singing happily and bidding farewell to the blooming flowers in the flower bed downstairs, as red as fire and as white as snow. Although I don't know who is watering and fertilizing you, I have enjoyed my eyes for many years.

Farewell, old neighbors, no matter how powerful and arrogant you were; Still unknown, flat and faint; Whether we used to be like-minded brothers and friends; Or colleagues with different ambitions and looks like passers-by The vast sea of people is also a fate that God let us meet in this life. Don't forget that we used to drink the boiling water of the boiler, and don't forget that Xi 'an old educated youth who burned the boiler all day and was cheerful and noisy.