One Day

June 26, 2011
By MichaelZhang PLATINUM, Guildford, Other
MichaelZhang PLATINUM, Guildford, Other
29 articles 1 photo 7 comments

Favorite Quote:
The purpose of competition is to eliminate the competition.

I had heard the shocking news that the primary school where I studied would be removed for nearly two months. But I had no time to visit it because of the busy study. June 9, I in time had spare time to revisit my mother school with another schoolmate then, who is my classmate now.

My primary school time is quite essential for my life going. I first let my dreams fly there: I wrote my first science fiction there; I wrote and played my first opera there; I first gave a speech on astronomy to the public there… All these events made my study life splendid, and the teachers there encourage me to pursue my dreams firmly. The primary school was a paradise of dreams.

The first goal of our visit was our teachers. Long time passed, I did not know which office our teachers were working in. I found the teaching building, and opened a door arbitrarily —that was just my teachers’ office, and they were so surprised about our arrival! Sitting in a chair, I listened to my teachers’ telling my stories. They told me that I was a famous one in the school, and the teachers and the headmaster were interested in my extraordinary deeds. However, what attracted me were not the fact how I was brilliant but the memories in my primary time. My teachers helped me to recall the time when I was little. I was suddenly aware of my primary school time was very childish. As time went by, some memories had faded out, however, in front of me, there were still two things never changed: One was the fresh look of our teachers, another was the precious past.

Half hours later, we finally had to say goodbye to our teachers. They were willing to see me off! We got out of the office, and stood in the hall. Going along my sight, at the end of the endless hall, there was once my classroom. My footmarks might still be remaining on the floor of the hall, and my fingerprints might also be remaining on the handle of the door of the classroom! That was the first time I found that the history was so touchable! Even without any distance, the time years ago had been touched by me so easily! How amazing, how an incredible!
Then, we walked down the stair—It was the stair I had walked and ran on for thousands of times. When I was the assistance of my math teacher, I got familiar with the friendly stair. But now, I was forced to leave my mother school by walking down her. Though there were only 30 steps of the stair, my teachers, my schoolmate and I had walked for 20 minutes. The steps seemed uncountable.

We in time arrived at the gate of the teaching building. All my teachers stood at the gate, seeing my schoolmate and me leaving further and further. With saying a numerous times of “See you!” our teachers finally disappeared at the backhanded school’s narrow road. And then, the playground flashed into our eyes.

How little were the children playing there! My schoolmate whispered to me, “Maybe several years ago, we were them.” On the shabby cement playground, we had had snowball fight on winter’s morning and water gun war on summer’s afternoon. All these scenes came into my eyes while I watching the playground. And the sight seemed to be black and white. However, this valuable movie would never come onto my screen. And I had no chance to complain about the shabby playground again.

When the sun was sinking, we wandered towards the school gate, passing the huge Indus which had been standing there for many years. All memories, the teaching building, the playground, the Indus…All tracks my mother school impressed on my mind had to be stored in a box, which was placed on the top of a high bookshelf—I could only see it, but never reach it. Now, I only dream: one day, my age can be reduced as a half of now; I would rather walk along the hall where my footmarks remaining, going back to the classroom whose door’s handle owns my fingerprints, being a kid in my teachers’ shadow, writing the fiction once more, creating the role play once more, dreaming for my dreams at the old seat of mine…

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