A few days ago, I watched a series of programs filmed by a domestic TV station. Basically, the children in the city and the children in the mountains have a short-term exchange to achieve the purpose of education. Aside from the content of the program, almost all schools in the mountains are one class, one or two teachers teach, and a group of children of different ages learn the same or different things from the same or different books.
This documentary also tells the story of a French mountain village school. There is only one class in the whole school. There are more than a dozen students ranging in age from four to fourteen years old. One teacher, always dressed in black, looks serious but practical. Affectionate and never angry with children.
When the kids get into naughty fights, the husband gets tough. But after things have calmed down, sit down with the fighting child, face to face, and ask the child who started first, right? The child shook his head and lowered his head again. The husband noticed the child's embarrassment, so he took his words. This is wrong, and you have to apologize to him.
The child apologized to the other child. The husband then turned to the other child and said, do you know why he hit you? Looking at the dazed face of the child, he turned to the child who did it again, and was silent for a long time before the child who did it whimpered because he scolded me. The husband then said to another child, look, you made him sad, and what you said hurt him, shouldn't you do this in the future? The child nodded. It's the end of things.
The impression is that the children who caused trouble in the school from childhood to adulthood are all punished to stand in the teacher's office. The teacher's scolding can be heard from a distance. I have never been scolded like this by anyone other than my mother, but I can imagine the general impact on my heart. I don't know if it's still like this now.
There are three large tables in the school classroom, and all the children sit at different tables according to their age. At the beginning of the class, the teacher said to sit down, and the children would pull out the chairs and sit down. My favorite kid's name is Jojo, and he's never in a state of mind and looks quirky at the same time. The teacher said, who is going to finish the homework (color the picture) today? Jojo said, I am me. Then a person started to be in a daze. When everyone finished painting the painting and could go out to play, Qiao Qiao also put down her pen and walked with her friends. The teacher stopped him and asked him about his homework. He said he would do it after he was done playing. The teacher said no, and Qiaoqiao said it would be done tomorrow. The teacher said no, and Qiaoqiao just stared at the children who ran out in a daze. The teacher said it was you who said you would finish it in class today. Jojo finally said helplessly, okay. The teacher said, what did you say? Jojo said, okay. The teacher repeated the question again, and Jojo was a little puzzled, saying, "Okay." The teacher repeated it again, and after seven or eight times, Qiaoqiao didn't say it was okay, thought for a while, and said, okay, teacher. The teacher doesn't ask.
In the mountains in winter, there are endless sleds and joy; in the wilderness in spring, there are green outings and white clouds; in summer, there are crickets, and there are shady classes under the big trees and summer vacations that are still looking forward to. In the poetic nature, such a class of school reveals only freshness, warmth and joy.
The husband took a group of children to take a train to the outskirts of the country, anxiously looking for the lost children in the half-height grass of the dog's tail; when it rained, the teacher sent the children out of the school two by two with two umbrellas. But some children walked fast, some walked slowly; when the weather was warm, he moved all the tables and chairs out to read under the big tree to practice dictation; when the weather was cold, he taught the children how to make French crepes in the house. Younger kids can crack an egg each, while older kids can learn how to flip pancakes in the air with a frying pan. In the last semester before retirement, the husband sat on a stump in the grass with his father's sick child, encouraging him to go to middle school in time or study hard, and at the same time asking about his father's condition. The child would cry and laugh at times. The teacher did not have any body language, but showed endless care from the words. There are also autistic children, and teachers can only encourage her to make more friends. The teacher asked the children who went to middle school together to take care of each other. One was beaten and the other should help, and then there was laughter in the room.
Almost all the shots are steady and quiet, as if the school gentleman was looking at these quirky children, kind and steady. Only when the children are jumping around and running around, does the camera move slowly and follow the figures of the children. Moreover, the angles are all at the same height as the children, thus capturing the eyes of the children and the soul of childhood.
The summer vacation has begun. After the children left, the elderly gentleman looked in the direction the camera was not shooting, with a clear reluctance and attachment on his face, as well as a silent choking. For the children, this one-class school will be replaced after the summer by another larger school with more flights; for this gentleman who has been teaching for thirty-five years, this one-class school is His life. The school is over, and the core of his life is over, leaving only endless memories.
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