Once a teacher, always a father. My parents, they raised me. I mean, they‘ve been, like, half my life. Food and clothing are given by parents, so knowledge, morality, character, self-cultivation, connotation and some other valuable things are given by whom? Its easy. It‘s from the teacher. Should be in kindergarten, I remember a-year-old teacher, every day will help me comb, cover the quilt and so on. I dont remember what she looked like, but I remember all the little things. I was, for the first time, a teacher in my mind -- like a mother. After Primary School graduation, I have not come out from the shadow of separation, I met a teacher, Miss Liu. In the later days, I gradually came out of the shadow of separation, the brave face of all setbacks, her lecture is very vivid, let you can not help but go into the paradise of the language, while learning the text, he also taught us some methods of study, and from time to time, he would play jokes to adjust the atmosphere, especially to give the students face, and never publicly humiliate anyone. Then you must be asking, is this still a teacher? He‘s practically a student. Thats right. We don‘t think of her as a superior teacher, we think of her as a God in our hearts, a God who stands by his students. She never looked down on anyone, and she never gave up on a single student. She likes to see the good in people and praise them in public. She wants to do things fairly and fairly. But, you know, she can be mean, and guess what, the almost perfect teacher gets mad, too? If she gets tough, tigers will be scared of her. On that day, she actually cried in public because a male classmate and another male classmate had an argument, until a fight broke out. Student 1 picked up the stool (iron) and threw it at student 2. Student 2 ducked, and hit the girl in front of Student 2, me. Wow, a big bag. Then I went to the hospital. In that days Chinese class, teacher Liu simply can not go on, to educate us. When talking about my injury, I actually shed tears of emotion (of course, this is what my classmates told me) ... really, I am very moved, a teacher, unexpectedly will shed the most precious tears for a friendless student, in the world, what could be more moving than that? At least, that friendship, I will never forget. I, a 12-year-old child, still do not understand the true meaning of teacher love, but have enjoyed too many teachers that sweet smile, gently touch, sweet words... once a teacher, lifelong father.

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