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t time we all believe that there must be an old man fishing in the river with the pure white snow in the winter； and he is fishing day after day and changing into an old verse。 But we can think about those pictures now only if we h*e a poet’s fancy and courage。 I feel the morning reading one day when I lingerer around school building； and in that day I don’t go to school。
Yes； I cut a class in my childhood。
When the famer irrigates in the field； I shuttle in a noiseless alleyway in my village and the indistinct class where I always read some archaic poems that I h*e wearied。 I feel alone in that time when I separate from the big group； my school。
The khaki road extend far away； I roam in my village from the north to the southward。 The flaps of sparrow in the sky break this stillness； and I remember two verses of book when I roam by riverside behind the school building。 And I always remember the picture aside。
A seed is sown in spring。 A harvest is reaped in autumn。
The villager poetize the first verse in the northern field； the river flows to the south with the gold leaf of sunshine； flows to the south with me and drains。 When I walk in the end of the river； I know one river is dead in the south of my village； and that place is spacious as a big river； the dead le*es overlaid the nude riverbed。
The evening is going to end here； the river burned crimson in the setting sun； and the setting sun plains never to deceive anybody； it fall down fair； and hide his whereabouts with the black fog。 And it rise again up the housetop of the canteen in the east village； ing with the golden color； le*ing with the golden color； so the sun mast be the golden color； the white radiance is the tired and misty eye merely。
The class teacher； Ms。 Ren knocks on our door in the sun falling time。 She talks with my parents about nothing。 She only arranges the homework with me and exhorts me to go to school tomorrow with a gentle manner of speaking； and I’m suddenly aware of this holiday； I feel very ashamed although she didn’t bring a lawsuit against me to my parents。
This matter like a not started excursion。 I open my door in the aureate sunlight and look at the school gate； and I see Ms。 Ren waiting at the gate for me softly； and I walk towards to her directly like a kite obeys the runner。
The whole class bees cheerful and light…hearted。 The peach blossom in the pages are written the peach words； the swallow are in the weeping willows which are rare in my village； its le*es hang on the water surface； the swallow fly low； the fishing boat w*es on the water surface softly and issues songs sometimes。 Those views aren’t in my village but in one page of the primary school language textbooks； those not appeared spring stories of my village also hide in the pages； and even the unknown stories which appeared out of my village； those a long story spread by years and years； and I meet it when I read the textbooks。 I am always thinking about the result if I hadn’t attended school。
It’s terrible。
Some verses occur in the old time。 The verses may be hiding in the deadwood。 I find them in the south of my village； in the age…old Tung； and some stories that maybe took place in last year but end in this year； but those are dead twigs and withered le*es； hiding in the pale yellowish green le*es； swayed by the wind and sobbing every times。
I climb those trees and break the dead branches off。 I break apart the stories between the branches and the years； and they are the sleepy stories； blow away by the wind。 I find the dead branches are so weak that they drop down to the ground quickly when I touch with them。 I gather a bundle of dead branches and stories； and shoulder them on the back； or haul them to my home； they burn violently in our kitchen range； and our dinner is cooking on that fire。 I guess that the black *oke from our chimney may hide those old stories and those stories change into the ash。 But I don’t want to talk about the trees’ ash now。
My clas*ate Roger’s father talks with Zhen Yong’s father in the school gate； Jin Lei’s mother chat with Mr。 Ren。 They will take us to the town’s primary school for the sample examination； as the excellent student’s parent they discontinue the whole day’s farm work and wait in the school gate。 In that morning the dew had not evaporated totally。
And after Ms。 Ren’s short report we fly with parent’s wings to the examination room。 We meet other students in our town； and the parent meets other parent。 This sample examination is like an enlarged learning meeting； and so many excellent students （except of the student whose parent was on good terms with teacher） join in the examination。 The Xi Ling experimental primary school is a former site of Xi Ling Buddhist temple。
Beside its gate is a bowl…shaped lake； and the canteen stands on the side of lake。 There are many popsicles in that icebox； I like them very much because it taste more sweet than our home…made ice…lolly with the saccharin and ice water。 But I clearly understand now that those popsicles are also made by the storekeeper。
My father takes me to eat the lightly fried Chinese bread after the examination。 This is that one what my father has brought home for me when he came back from the construction field； this is that one makes very happy in those days during which my father was doing some plasterer works； and this is a ’s stand beside on the highway。
The butter jumps on the baking hot saucepan。 The lightly fried Chinese bread is fried in shallow oil。 Those are some encourage and rewards for the excellent student。 And I eat them all the way； the wind whirr with my father’s clothes； the happiness is a song like the creak of bicycle’s running on the ground。txt电子书分享平台
School
I h*e hovered in this road between my door and the school gate； which has not enough hectometers for five years。 I walk down two courtyards and a short way with the blue brick wall standing beside。 I saw the honeybee and bullfinch fly busily from the sheltered courtyard； and I watch to the bullfinch on the tree with the lost mood； I stand in front of the sc