As the sunset afterglow shone on our class photo, we have finished the last exam in my middle school career, which was also the last day of our school. The whole forty three of us sitting in the classroom were picking up the last piece of our memories while the head teacher, unlike her normal pace, slowly stepped into the classroom. At that moment, we could hear not only her sluggish steps but also our heartbeats.
“After getting along with each other for three years, you guys finally finished your little task in middle school,” after a short break, she continued: “all of a sudden, all of you have grown from little saplings to giant trees. Three years of hard working, now it is the time to shake off the stress. Go for the celebration.”
Under her benign and proud gaze, everyone threw all of their fulfilled quiz sheets, tests and notebooks out the window. Boys and girls shouted with excitement while the wind carried the sheets away and the fatigue and pressure finally released by discarding the sheets. She stared at this scene with tears, without being noticed, she wiped off the tears reluctantly. Gradually, the wild atmosphere came back to peace then silence, and students all returned to their seats, waiting for the head teacher’s further speeches.
Pretending to be serious, she looked around and continued her talk: “There is one last lesson I think I can teach all of you. There will always be fruits if you irrigate the seeds. Even if it is a Cactus, living in the harshest environment, it will have the most beautiful moment in its life, for example, bursting into the bloom or bearing delicious fruits. Now, class is over, pack and leave. Your parents must be really anxious now.” She walked away even more slowly than before. Right, she was aged three more years while we grew up three years older. After returning to her office, like being shackled in a chair, she watched the her class fading into the dusk. The trash bin standed beside her and devoured tissues one after another, until it’s almost fulfilled.
As the teens walked out of the campus gate, hugging and saying goodbye to teachers, I turned off the last bulb in the classroom, the lasting rotating ceiling fan and the computer. Locking the door and giving the key back to the headmaster, my job as audio-visual organizer, managing and controlling the electricity in the classroom, came to a satisfactory conclusion. It was almost dusk, the last sun rays were diminishing; the picture hanging on the board, with our class, became blurry. Recollecting my past middle school life, I walked out. Saying goodbye to teachers, I saw my parents. Hugging my parents, I glanced back at our classroom. The picture became completely dark and finally invisible.
And that is the last glance of my middle school life. At that time, we were all excited since the class was over and we would have a summer vacation. However, when I reminded myself of my last day of middle recently, I have a totally different understanding of her last lesson: as long as you dedicate yourself to your passion, you will gain the substantial fruit from your endeavor.
