Teachers,
In the last semester of primary school, I felt I was more and more dependent on this group. In the morning came to the campus, the classroom with clean Windows and the sound of books, the heart inexplicable joy and joy; Dusk leave the campus, towering pavilions and silver school gate, the heart silent nostalgia and dependence.
I usually don't care about every grass and every tree on campus; Class trivia is even harder to get into. Now, it's getting cuter and cuter. Sometimes I will wipe the dusty window frames, neat messy tables and chairs. The students no longer haggle over small things, both sides smiled calmly, everything is relieved. We all cherish this last time together! Every time I look out the window at the river in a daze: I can still stay here for a few days. Attachment, what a feeling! The gentle water caresses the reeds on the bank; Like the warm wind chasing the tender branches of a weeping willow; Like floating white clouds caressing the lofty mountains. My heart is like this water, this wind, this cloud.
I can't run without the primary school horse. I can't fly without the golden wings of primary school. In elementary school, whether on the other side of the sky or the other side of the horizon, your shadow will always be in my heart, because I am the child you raised with milk!
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