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October 18, 2005
Why I love my job (for the 146th time)
If you want to get me going for a while, ask me why I skip off happily to the classroom every weekday morning and grin stupidly as I’m walking back to my room for lunch. I won’t go into all the details now, but one of the reasons is that occasionally, after hours of wading through Chinglish drivel -- I love my students, but the fact is, much of their writing is mind-numbingly uninteresting; maybe a portion of the fault is in the assigned topics, or lack thereof -- I get something like this (I’ve made some grammar corrections to preserve the flow):
Blue Autumn
It was raining. But I was having a walk without an umbrella, for the rain was slight.
Looking back, I saw my lovely family standing under the grey sky. The rain had covered everything here.
It is said that rain stands for great sadness because Chinese believe that it always happens where there something bad, such as someone dying. The rain is the tears of and sympathies from God.
Under the rain, everything seemed to have lost its color. A gloomy day it was.
Continuing my way, I passed by the chicken’s family: two hens and their eggs. But it seemed that they didn’t like this weather because their house had got wet and they couldn’t go out for food.
Suddenly a flock of birds flew over my head and into the distance, leaving melodious songs. Did they want to make me happy? Did they know and understand my sadness?
The sharpness of their formation was very tidy: Sometimes it was like a dash; sometimes it was like the Chinese character “人”. Whatever it looked like, there was always a leader, as a star, guiding them to the warmest and lightest world.
I sat on a stone beside the road. The crops lay before me.
Dad said we wouldn’t have a good harvest this year. No one knew why there were so many diseases that destroyed the crops.
Seeing the crops falling down in the wind, I cried out and imagined I was in a desert and without food and water.
The yellow waves filled my eyes; the sad rain kissed my face; the wind made my hair fly. I tried to forget myself and the world. The mixed scent of fresh grass and soil filled the air, which brought new energy and might, and I couldn’t ignore it. With the sound of heavy steps came the poor farmers, including my father.
"We needn’t worry and give up,” they said, “We still have the stored food.”
“But what about next year?” one of them asked. No one answered.
What about next year? Like the river, didn’t we need to be refreshed and cheered up? The technology was too old and limited. Farmers also should learn more and more to improve themselves and should love nature; then it would love them. Just this. Everyone wants to eat delicious food, but not everyone loves making it.
I wiped my tears dry and was determined to try to help them. Although I may not play an important role, I wouldn’t give up. Next year there might be a golden autumn.
For more reasons why I love my job, check here and here.
| By huzzlecoo | 06:30 PM
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