Chalk is short. It's only a few grams in hand, but it's not insignificant. It has its own contribution. It's the shadow of a teacher. Every chalk is full of the mystery between it and the teacher.
轮到我擦黑板的时候,我拿起黑板擦不禁黯然神伤。我擦去的是老师的心血,我成了罪人。晚上,我辗转反侧,好不容易睡着了。睡梦里。一支粉笔从天外飘来,它告诉我,不必为此难过,它不想留下功绩让人赞扬,我不记得我有没有答应它,但我记得它来的乘坐五彩云,与它携手同行的是教师!
When it's my turn to clean the blackboard, I can't help but feel sad. What I wiped is the teacher's hard work, I became a sinner. In the evening, I tossed and turned and finally fell asleep. Sleep. A piece of chalk came from the sky. It told me that it didn't have to be sad about it. It didn't want to leave behind the achievements to be praised. I don't remember whether I promised it or not, but I remember that it came to ride on the five colored cloud. It was the teacher who walked hand in hand with it!
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