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I still remember what happened that night when I was a primary school student. It was so embarrassing and educational that I am sure I will bear it in my mind till I will get too old and forgetful to get even a track of it. I was in Grade six then. The math teacher happened to be my father’s old friend. They had been out of touch since they graduated from high school. They have the same last name but different first names. Perhaps it was because of the relation between my math teacher and my father, my math teacher cared for me very much. There was a time during which cartoon-girl painting was very popular. Many girls liked to paint cartoon girls whenever was possible for them, I was no exception. One night the math teacher asked us to study by ourselves and asked him questions if any. After finishing all my homework, seeing there was still much time before the bell rang, I took out my painting book and started to copy a lovely cartoon girl in a cartoon book. Suddenly I felt somebody was standing in front of me. Before I put away it, my painting was taken by force. I was thinking that somebody was joking with me again. I raised my head, only to find a angry face. I was my math teacher, my father’s old friend. “What’s this?” pointing to my painting, he said angrily, “what on earth should you do in class? Painting, um? Looking at what you have done in class?” “I, I have finished my homework, so…” “So what? So you can do whatever you like that has nothing to do with study just as a matter of course?” He looked at my painting, showing it to the class, “great painting, right?” “It’s a little bit ugly.” I heard one voice. “It’s barely satisfactory.” I heard another one. My math teacher stopped their discussion, changing the topic to whether I should paint in class. Everyone at that moment seemed to be excited and the whole class was really in a mess. I stood still and straight, lowering my head deeply. Everything including the face of my math teacher and the exciting discussion of my fellow classmates seemed to be far away from and unclear to me. My brain seemed to be blank all of a sudden. I stood still and straight, without a word. I gritted my teeth, trying to hold back my tears, wordless. Through my eyes blurred by tears, I saw my math book on my desk got wet by my drops of tears. I saw a tear drop on the book, then two, then three. The sound tears dropped on the book was so loud that I was even startled. I heard noised around me but I failed to catch even one of them. I can’t remember how the class ended and how my math teacher dealed with my “great painting”, I just remember what he said afterwards. He said: “I am sorry but I didn’t mean to hurt you. I hope you will be responsible for yourself and bear in mind what is what you really want instead of imitating others all the time. I am your teacher as well as your father’s friend, and that’s why I had to do that to you.” Even now, I still keep that great painting of my own. Every time I catch sight of it, I will think back of my math teacher as well as what he said to me. As time goes by, the scene of that night gets more and more indistinct but the words of my math teacher distinct. |
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