本文发表在 rolia.net 枫下论坛I started to learn English at grade 5 in primary school. I did not know why we had to learn it and I did not want to know and I did not like it at all.
My English teacher was a middle-aged woman who had a strong local accent, but we had no idea what real English should sound like. Every other morning, we were forced to read along with her in a ridiculously dragged tone, like half-hearted singing of monks in a temple “Dis is a d...og, dat is a c...at...” However, that was not the worst part, due to my lack of interest in English, the morning reading exercise had never failed to put me into sleep. To look like I was reading, I stood my English book on the desk so I could hide my head behind it while I was dozing off- a little trick all slackers in school knew how to pull off. Then I quickly learned that was a bad idea. One day, without any warning, I was hit by something that shocked me out of my dream and followed by a boisterous laughter from the whole class. Then I realized I was just hit by a half chalk! My English teacher stared at me briefly and then resumed her rhythmic reading. The look on my face must be very funny, because it took a long time for the class to settle down.
I played this cat and rat game with my English teacher for the rest of summer. She had been getting better and better at throwing chalks. I never saw it coming, everything happened so fast, until one day, I was stunned by what I saw when she threw a chalk at another boy. Her move was so fluently and gracefully accomplished, all I saw was a barely discernable shake of her wrist. I couldn’t help laughing my lungs out in admiration. I thought I deserved a break once in a while. I remained to be her primary target for as long as I could remember. I knew it was useless to hide myself behind the book, a chalk from her never stopped in its trajectory; after knocking down my book, it would invariably and persistently find its way to my head. If I was lucky, I could dodge first one, but that would infuriate her more and invite more chalks heading my way.
As you have probably surmised, my English scores were pathetic. Like every tragic ending had its bright side, mine brought me an unexpected benefit. The girl who was sharing the table with me was asked to help me out. I will elaborate on her in another story. What a fun!更多精彩文章及讨论,请光临枫下论坛 rolia.net
My English teacher was a middle-aged woman who had a strong local accent, but we had no idea what real English should sound like. Every other morning, we were forced to read along with her in a ridiculously dragged tone, like half-hearted singing of monks in a temple “Dis is a d...og, dat is a c...at...” However, that was not the worst part, due to my lack of interest in English, the morning reading exercise had never failed to put me into sleep. To look like I was reading, I stood my English book on the desk so I could hide my head behind it while I was dozing off- a little trick all slackers in school knew how to pull off. Then I quickly learned that was a bad idea. One day, without any warning, I was hit by something that shocked me out of my dream and followed by a boisterous laughter from the whole class. Then I realized I was just hit by a half chalk! My English teacher stared at me briefly and then resumed her rhythmic reading. The look on my face must be very funny, because it took a long time for the class to settle down.
I played this cat and rat game with my English teacher for the rest of summer. She had been getting better and better at throwing chalks. I never saw it coming, everything happened so fast, until one day, I was stunned by what I saw when she threw a chalk at another boy. Her move was so fluently and gracefully accomplished, all I saw was a barely discernable shake of her wrist. I couldn’t help laughing my lungs out in admiration. I thought I deserved a break once in a while. I remained to be her primary target for as long as I could remember. I knew it was useless to hide myself behind the book, a chalk from her never stopped in its trajectory; after knocking down my book, it would invariably and persistently find its way to my head. If I was lucky, I could dodge first one, but that would infuriate her more and invite more chalks heading my way.
As you have probably surmised, my English scores were pathetic. Like every tragic ending had its bright side, mine brought me an unexpected benefit. The girl who was sharing the table with me was asked to help me out. I will elaborate on her in another story. What a fun!更多精彩文章及讨论,请光临枫下论坛 rolia.net