Grandpa's great writer

Chapter 366 It's Wrong

Seeing the snow falling, Zhang Chong also felt something, so he put down his usual "talking about literature" and started talking about snow with the students.

After letting them speak freely, the students below looked at me and I looked at you, but no one spoke first.

Zhang Zhong raised the corner of his mouth and said, "Why, don't you have anything to say?"

"Mr. Zhang, I have."

The boy who spoke just now raised his hand.

Zhang Zhong smiled and nodded at him, "Then tell me."

"Mr. Zhang, when it snowed this time, the first thing I thought of was your previous book "The Snowman". That is my favorite thriller and suspense novel. I remember many lines of characters, at that time..."

"Okay, okay." Zhang Zhong pressed his hand on him, and then said with a smile, "There is no need to say flattery."

"Hahaha."

When Zhang Zhong said this, laughter erupted in the classroom, and the boy who raised his hand lowered his head in embarrassment, and muttered, "This is what I say from the bottom of my heart..."

"Okay, let me give you a reminder. Have you ever read the text about snow that is more impressive in your usual reading?" Zhang Zhong said.

"Teacher, do ancient poems count?"

"of course."

"Lonely boat and hat man, fishing alone in the cold river and snow, teacher, I like this sentence better."

"Well, "Jiang Xue" by Liu Zongyuan."

"The window contains the snow of thousands of years in Xiling, and the gate is anchored by the boat of Dongwu thousands of miles away."

"Du Fu's Quatrains are not bad."

"Late at night, I know the snow is heavy, and I hear the sound of folding bamboo."

"The bamboo is startled by the wind, and the mountain is covered with snow when the door is opened."

"Birds are hard to find in the snowy days of Chang'an"

……

Someone made a start, and the classroom suddenly became a scene of reciting ancient poems. The students searched their brains and reported all the poems about snow that they knew.

Zhang Chong saw that they were going astray, and quickly said, "It can be ancient poetry, but it is not limited to ancient poetry. I am not a poetry conference, and I mainly want you to talk about your own ideas."

The classroom, which was originally as lively as a vegetable market, became quiet again. Everyone was thinking, what does Teacher Zhang mean by this? Is this an exam?
Thinking of the exam, most of the students thumped in their hearts, and put on a posture of being ready.

Seeing their nervousness, Zhang Chong originally wanted to say a few relaxing words to calm them down, but after thinking about it, it would be easier for Huaxia students to put some pressure on them.

Without waiting for them to raise their hands, Zhang Zhong directly pointed to someone, "That girl in the red dress in the third row of this one."

The girl who was pointed to stood up reflexively.

"About Xue, do you have anything to share with us?" Zhang Zhong asked with a smile, trying his best to appear amiable.

The girl thought for a while and said, "I think snow represents pure love. I hope that there will be years to look back, and we will live together with affection. The most beautiful state of love is just like this snow. It floats together, falls together, and goes to the end together. "

Zhang nodded his head: "I hope there will be years to look back on, and we will live together with deep affection. It is a very poetic sentence. Thank you for sharing. Please sit down."

The girl breathed a sigh of relief and sat down slowly.

"This is the second row of boys wearing glasses." Zhang Zhong called his name again.

"Teacher, I like snow, and I like the magical pentagon, hexagon, and octagon. When it snows, I stand on the balcony, stretch out my arms, open the window, and the wind will send them over. I wanted to catch one piece, but it seemed to be in a hurry, and with the help of the wind, it escaped from under my arm one by one..."

The second boy who was called out probably figured out the tricks and wrote a short essay for Zhang Chong on the spot.

Literary talent is not bad, and such a temporary composition is also a test of skills.

Zhang nodded and said, "Very good, the next one is the one on the left of this classmate."

On the left of the boy with glasses was a small boy who stood up and said, "Snowflakes fell on the tree, dressing up the tree. The snowflakes fell on people, and the people seemed to become a big snowman standing on the ground. The snowflakes fell on the ground, Accumulated into a thick layer, like a white carpet..."

The little boy didn't even start, and started describing the scenery directly.

Most of the following ones were similar, and Zhang Zhong nodded in affirmation for each one, but he never made any comments.

Until a girl was pointed out, she said, "Actually, I don't like snow because it's very cold. When I was young, my family was not well-off. When it was cold, I didn't even have a brazier. If it snowed, I could only I couldn’t do anything under the covers. My father had to get up in the middle of the night to cut firewood. One winter, when it was snowing heavily, he had to drive a car to collect firewood. Later, his legs froze. There are still repercussions to this day.”

Zhang Chong looked at this girl, who was dressed in ordinary clothes and looked ordinary, but when he talked about these things in his family, his expression was very flat, neither sad nor inferior.

A strong, thoughtful girl.

Zhang nodded, "Well, sit down."

After letting her sit down, Zhang Zhong didn't order anyone else, but said, "Many students have contributed very beautiful prose just now, and the writing style is very good, but what I want to say is that the most satisfying thing is The last classmate."

"First of all, the reason why this classmate satisfies me has absolutely nothing to do with the nature of the story she tells. I am satisfied because she is expressing her feelings sincerely, no matter whether the feelings are plain It is still passionate, whether it is joy or sadness, these are all her own feelings. The beautiful essays of other people are indeed very literary, but they are obviously written to serve others. Maybe even you yourself don’t know what you wrote What exactly is it? It’s just that you have read enough books and mastered enough vocabulary. You think that writing like this will be good for others, so you just write like this. But what I want to tell you is that the real writing is to write from the heart s things."

Now that this was mentioned, Zhang Zhong decided to say a few more words, "A real writer always writes only for the heart, and only the heart can truly tell him how prominent his selfishness and nobility are. The heart makes him If you really understand yourself, once you understand yourself, you will understand the world. You are now a college student, and you no longer need to write something you don’t want to write in order to exercise your writing skills like in elementary and middle schools. I just asked you what you think of when you see snow What, obviously, most of you have in your minds what I want to hear, not what you really think, and that's not right."

　Thanks to [Pai Daxing] for the 100 rewards
　　Thanks big guy
　　
　
(End of this chapter)