When I went to school that morning, I was very afraid that Mr. Hamel would scold me. What's more, today is very important. I heard that this is the last time Mr. Hamel taught us. Usually this means listening to long and boring lectures today, and maybe even an exam. This was the case when Teacher Xie, who taught physics before, left. of. But my dad told me that I must go to school anyway, "I hope you have a choice." My dad tidyed up my collar and patted my head.
In fact, I don't quite understand what Dad meant. As early as two weeks ago, the major media began to circulate the news that the leaders of various countries asked us elementary school students to start learning Qiwen. He should also know. "It is not easy to make this difficult decision, but we have reason to accept gifts from higher civilizations and make our own efforts for the common progress of all mankind." Those big figures announced in the video with ambiguous expressions in various languages. Behind them is a huge circle of ink and wash. I heard that it is the seven texts we are about to learn. It actually looks pretty good. I like painting.
The weather is so warm and sunny!
Thrush sings around in the woods; in the small square in front of the convenience store, old aunts are dancing with fans. These scenes are much more interesting than class; but I can control myself and rush to school.
When I walked by the Physics Institute, I saw many people standing at the door holding banners, looking angrily preparing to set off for the parade. In the past two years, I have seen such things a lot. It seems that Dad and his colleagues will never be able to return to the peaceful and peaceful academic life before: parades, protests, and debates with various people on the show-I keep walking, just thinking in my heart: "Again What's the matter?"
The grandfather who lives next door and his graduate students also squeezed there and held up a banner. He saw me running across the square and shouted to me: "You don't need to be so fast, boy, you just had time to get to school anyway! "
I think he was joking with me, so he rushed to Mr. Hamel's classroom out of breath.
Normally, when the school starts, there is always a hustle and bustle that can be heard on the street. The desk is open, the desk is closed, and whose cell phone is not turned off, the mute sounded suddenly... and the teacher was tapping on the blackboard with a chalk, "Be quiet, be quiet... Last week’s homework class representatives will be closed immediately Class is about to start..."
I had planned to sneak into my seat during the hustle and bustle; but that day, everything was quiet and quiet, just like Sunday morning. I looked in from the crack in the door of the large classroom and saw that my classmates were all in their seats; Mr. Hanmeier was pacing around, coughing a few times from time to time. I had no choice but to open the door and walk past the quiet classroom in front of everyone. You can imagine how red my face was and how flustered I was!
But there is nothing at all. Mr. Han Maier met me and said gently: "Sit down, Shang Gu, we are about to start class, we won't wait for you."
I hurried up the steps and picked an empty seat on the side to sit down. My heart calmed down a little bit before I noticed that our teacher was wearing his pretty Chinese tunic suit today, and there was a pen in the upper left pocket. He only wears this suit when he is on popular science shows or awards. And the whole classroom has an unusual serious atmosphere. What surprised me most was that there were many people from the Physics Institute, Mathematics Institute, and Foreign Language Department sitting on the benches that had always been empty in the back. They were as quiet as their classmates. I recognized several of my parents’ colleagues. Among them were Old Hao, who wore his cocked hat to cover up his baldness, the dean of the department before my mother’s death, my dad’s laboratory colleagues, and some others. Everyone seems very sad. Hao Sou also carried a Chinese textbook with a ripped edge, which seemed not to be the same version as mine. He opened the book and lay it on his lap, with his large pair of glasses lying horizontally on the book.
I was surprised when I saw these situations. Mr. Hamel had already sat on the chair and said to us softly and solemnly as he had just said to me: "Classmates, this is the last time I have taught you. I miss you. Most people already know it." At this point, he seemed to look in my direction, "Beijing has issued an order. Starting next week, Chinese primary schools will only be allowed to teach Qiwen, and Chinese classes will no longer be available. No. The new teacher will arrive tomorrow. Today is your last Chinese class. I hope you will study hard."
After hearing these few words, I felt very sad. I thought that learning Qiwen is the same as learning English and Japanese, except for a few more classes and more homework. I thought that the last class that Mr. Hamel said was just a new teacher to continue teaching Chinese. I didn't expect that there would be no Chinese classes anymore! I thought of my dad’s hesitant gaze, it turned out that this was what he was worried about!
My last Chinese class!
I hardly know how to write an essay yet! I can't learn Chinese anymore! Is that all right? I didn't study hard before, always playing mobile games in class, and sneaking at the textbooks at the same desk when memorizing ancient poems... Thinking of this, I regret it! My texts, ancient poems, classical Chinese, Lu Xun, I thought it was so annoying just now, now they all seem to be my old friends, reluctant to break up with them. The same goes for Mr. Hamel. He is leaving, and I can never see him again! Thinking of this, I forgot that he used to answer questions more often, and forgot the Chinese characters I copied.
Poor man!
He put on that tunic suit, it turned out to be to commemorate this last lesson! Now I understand why those uncles, aunts, grandparents and grandparents from the Academy of Sciences also come to sit in the classroom. This seems to tell me that they also regret that they did not pay much attention to language as I did. They seem to use this way to thank our teachers for their loyal service over the past 40 years, to show their respect for the words that are about to be lost.
While I was thinking about this, I suddenly heard the teacher call my name. It's my turn to take the stage to write silently. Oh my god, if I can write that "Eight Guardians of the Guardian" fluently from beginning to end, with correct handwriting and no mistakes, then I would be willing to take it out at any price. But the first few words I wrote in a mess, "Life doesn't meet, moves like..." I had to stand there shaking, feeling very uncomfortable, and I didn't know where to put the hand holding the pen. I heard Mr. Hamel say to me:
"You go back to your seat first." I dared not lift my head, and slid back to the seat against everyone's gaze.
"I don't blame you, Shang Gu, you must be uncomfortable enough, that's it. Everyone thinks like this every day:'Forget it, there is time, and it will not be too late to learn tomorrow.' Now take a look at ours. The result. I regret that I was forced to watch you give up Chinese before I fully taught you."
I lifted my head a little, but Mr. Han Maier didn't stare at me, he continued talking, looking very sad.
"Indeed, horizontal and vertical, the stroke order is correct, the spacing is right, and there are too many complicated and similar glyphs to remember. You may feel that Chinese is a backward and time-consuming text, and you are not willing to spend too much time on learning. Maybe today is a good end and beginning for you.” He laughed self-deprecatingly.
"Yes, next you have to study the seven texts and gradually understand how to know the meaning of the writing itself before writing. This will gradually change your way of thinking and let you... well, although I am not willing to say that, But indeed, predict the future."
"Just like the experiment done by your physics teacher a few days ago, light is refracted in water. What we see is that because the refractive index of air and water are different, the light changes its path and finally reaches that destination. What the barrels see is that light has changed their path in order to reach that destination as quickly as possible. Knowing the result before reaching it, this is their way of thinking, that is, "foreseeing the future" in our opinion, learning Seven essays will allow you to read the entire script of life ahead of time."
There was a small commotion in the class. I turned my head to look. The classmates were whispering and discussing with both panic and excitement. The people sitting at the back of the classroom remained solemn and their faces became heavier. I saw Old Man Hao taking off his hat. He closed his eyes and seemed unwilling to continue listening.
Mr. Hamel paused, coughed and cleared his throat: "I know very well that everyone in this room has a yearning for the future. After all, I have heard people discuss today’s horoscope, or Ziwei’s countless times. Based on the astrolabe analysis, I fully understand everyone’s curiosity about the future."
"However, I also urge you to think about a question that may be too complicated for you at this stage, whether we can predict the future and we can be happier."
"Isn't it certain!" A crisp voice rang, and I didn't notice which classmate's voice was.
"Oh, Yerongrong, please stand up and explain your point of view, why do you think so?" Mr. Hamel gestured gently.
"...If... if I know in advance that grandpa will get cancer, I must urge him to stop smoking..." The fluffy voice gradually lowered. Her grandpa passed away a month ago, and she has been very sad about it. .
"But predicting the future does not mean manipulating the future. If you gain the ability to predict the future by understanding the way of thinking of the heptapods, then the future you foresee is the only destination, and you can only watch yourself come to it. There, it doesn’t change the destination. Otherwise, it’s not the future you see."
I saw Rongrong had already sat down, and she stared at Teacher Han Maier blankly, obviously not fully understanding the matter.
"The only way to resolve this contradiction is to accept your future destiny and give up your free will. If you are free to choose, then you cannot predict the future, and if you already know the future, Then it is impossible to resist fate, but to accept it frankly. Do you understand?"
It's really strange. Listening to the lecture today, I understand everything that is difficult to understand. What he said seemed easy, easy. I think I have never listened to it so carefully, and he has never explained it so patiently. This poor man seemed to want to teach us everything he knew before he left and stuff it into our minds all at once.
"I don't know what caused the upper head..." Mr. Hamel pointed to the top, and then put his hand down weakly. One of my free wills can probably only be used to choose to accept this decision or give up."
"It's a pity, it seems that we don't have enough power to decide this matter freely." Mr. Hamel laughed mockingly, "It's so sad."
He bit his lip. "Anyway, let's continue to finish the class first."
On that day, Mr. Hamel continued to explain the "Eight Guardians of the Guard". He asked us to follow him to write stroke by stroke, we are so attentive, and the classroom is so quiet! I only heard the pen rustling on the paper. Sometimes some golden beetles fly in, but no one pays attention, and even the most noisy students are not distracted. The wild cats on the windowsill slowly stepped on the plum blossom print, and I thought to myself: "Will they force these cats to also write in seven characters!"
Every time I look up, I always see Mr. Hamel staring at the things around him, as if he was going to put everything in the classroom in his eyes. Just think about it: He has been here for forty years. Outside the window is his small yard and in front of his students; the desks and chairs that have been used for many years have been polished and worn out; the walnut trees in the yard have grown tall. ; The wisteria he planted by himself is now climbing around the window all the way to the roof.
Poor man, why don't you let him break up with all this now? Besides, I heard the wild cat he feeds walking around outside the window and screaming! ——They will leave this place forever tomorrow.
But he has enough courage to stick to today's homework. After the class was over, he let us read and write poems by ourselves. In the back seat of the classroom, Old Hao Sou had already put on his glasses, holding his Chinese textbook in both hands, and reading and writing Chinese with us. He was emotional, and his voice trembled. Hearing his weird voice, we wanted to laugh and felt sad. what! I will never forget this last lesson!
Suddenly the classroom bell rang. Mr. Hamel stood up with a pale face. I think he has never been this tall.
"My friends," he said, "I—I—"
But he choked, he couldn't continue.
He turned to the blackboard, picked up a piece of chalk, used all his strength, and wrote a few large characters:
"Long live free will!"
Then he stayed there, leaning his head against the wall, without speaking, he just made a gesture to us: "School is over,-you go."
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It comes from Ent's casual rants during the group discussion, and he changed it for everyone to laugh. PS: I just learned that "The Last Lesson" was translated by Hu Shi...
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