Old Deng is reborn in the 1980s, and he starts by severing his father-son relationship!

"Comrade Chen Deshun, may I borrow your paper and pen? I'm afraid I won't remember what you just said, so I'd like to write it down."

Jian Xueping's gaze was intense, and her tone unconsciously carried a hint of seeking advice.

"sure."

Chen Deshun got up, found some paper and pen, and handed them over.

Jian Xueping immediately leaned over the desk, writing furiously like a student eager for knowledge.

She took notes while asking follow-up questions, all closely related to the teaching content.

"Comrade Chen Deshun, do you think we should set different learning goals for students with different grades?"

"Of course. That's called individualized instruction."

Chen Deshun then introduced a completely new concept: "Students can be categorized. For example, high-achieving students can be required to master all five characters and be able to write a short essay. Average students, as mentioned earlier, should master the five characters and be able to use them in three sentences. Struggling students, on the other hand, are considered to have met the standard if they can recognize the five characters and read them. In this way, every student can gain a sense of accomplishment within their own capabilities, instead of being left far behind and eventually giving up on themselves."

"Learning is like a marathon; it takes time and perseverance, like water dripping on a stone."

What he said was rather simplistic; it was only later schools that truly perfected the art of individualized instruction.

They label each student and divide them into classes based on their exam scores, changing classes every one or two months.

After three years of schooling, I suddenly realized after graduation that I knew everyone in my entire grade.

This approach has both advantages and disadvantages, and I will not comment on it.

Moreover, too much of a good thing can be bad; saying too much might frighten the young teacher, so Chen Deshun didn't mention it to Jian Xueping.

The pen tip made a scratching sound on the paper, and Jian Xueping's eyes grew brighter and brighter.

Every word Chen Deshun said struck a chord with her.

solved.

Everything is resolved.

The confusion she had encountered in her past teaching, and the problems that had given her a headache, all seemed to find a solution in Chen Deshun's few words, giving her a sense of enlightenment.

At first, she was able to follow Chen Deshun's train of thought and ask some questions.

Later, Chen Deshun's lectures covered an increasingly wider range of topics, from classroom management to student psychology and evaluation systems. Every point of view amazed her and illuminated her blind spots in knowledge.

At this moment, Jian Xueping was already unable to get a word in edgewise. She could only stare wide-eyed, completely giving up on thinking and desperately trying to memorize the words. Even when her wrists ached, she didn't stop, afraid of missing a single character.

During the pause, she looked up at the man in front of her.

A faded old shirt, with a frayed collar and muddy trousers, didn't look sloppy at all; instead, it exuded an aura that was impossible to ignore.

Especially striking was his relaxed posture as he leaned back in his chair, appearing composed and speaking fluently.

The afterglow of the setting sun shone through the window frame, outlining a deep profile on his profile, giving him a sense of déjà vu as if he were sitting in a classroom listening to a lecture back in the day.

A storm raged in Jian Xueping's heart.

She came today simply to conduct a routine home visit and address Chen Sanqi's schooling issue.

I never imagined that I would be asking students' parents for advice on teaching in this dilapidated little house.

As the sky outside the window gradually darkened, the light inside the room turned dim and yellowish.

Jian Xueping suddenly woke up, glanced at the clock on the wall, and realized that she had been there for almost two hours.

She hurriedly stood up, her face full of apology: "Oh dear, I'm so sorry, Comrade Deshun, for taking up so much of your time."

She was somewhat incoherent, her cheeks flushed slightly from excitement and embarrassment.

I carefully folded the few sheets of paper covered in writing and put them in my pocket like precious treasures.

"It's nothing," Chen Deshun said casually.

If what he said could be of use, it might change the fate of many students, and his youngest son, Chen Sanqi, would also benefit.

"Thank you so much for today. What you just said has really enlightened me."

She couldn't think of a more suitable word to describe her feelings at that moment.

Chen Deshun stood up and waved his hand, "You're too kind, it was just casual conversation. I'm just glad it was useful to you."

"It's useful, so incredibly useful!"

Jian Xueping nodded emphatically, her gaze towards Chen Deshun shifting from initial calm to one of adoration and respect.

"Then I won't bother you any longer, I'll head back now."

It was already time to make dinner, and although she really wanted to continue listening to Chen Deshun's "lecture," their relationship ultimately made it inconvenient for her to stay any longer.

Reaching the door, Jian Xueping turned back and said earnestly, "Chen Sanqi is fortunate to have a father like you. I believe he will be very successful in the future."

"You will also become an excellent teacher in the future," Chen Deshun replied politely.

"Thanks."

Jian Xueping couldn't help but glance at Chen Deshun a few more times, then quickly left with a head full of new ideas and a heart that had been ignited.

Chen Deshun watched her figure disappear around the corner of the alley before turning back into the house.

He poured himself a glass of water as soon as he entered the room to soothe his throat. He had been talking all afternoon and was actually quite enjoying himself.

It is a very fortunate thing to have someone who listens patiently, agrees with your point of view, and can also help others.

After catching his breath, Chen Deshun glanced at the clock on the wall. It was time to cook dinner, so he went out to buy groceries.

He happened to run into Wang Ma, who was returning from grocery shopping. Wang Ma greeted him warmly, but Chen Deshun gave her a perfunctory reply, mainly because he knew that Wang Ma was trying to get information out of him.

The events that happened at the Chen family's house this morning were so informative that they provided plenty of talking points for everyone in the compound.

After buying groceries, I went straight into the kitchen without delay.

Rinse the rice, put it in the pot, and turn on the fire.

The cornmeal porridge was bubbling away in the pot, emitting the unique aroma of grain.

He mixed some more dough, kneading it deftly, and soon he had shaped plump, white steamed buns, which he neatly arranged in the steamer.

Finally, it's time to stir-fry the vegetables.

Chen Deshun picked up the cleaver, his wrist flicked, and with a series of rapid "chop-chop" sounds, the potatoes were transformed into thin, even shreds, which were then laid out on the cutting board.

Heat the wok, add oil, sauté chopped scallions until fragrant, add shredded potatoes, and with a "sizzle," flip the wok with the spatula, toss it, and remove from the wok.

A plate of golden-brown stir-fried potato shreds was ready.

The food had just been served when the second and third sons came back, drawn by the aroma.

Chen Jianye and Chen Jianshe entered the house one after the other.

The two of them had been strolling around the streets all afternoon, and both looked somewhat tired.

"Dad, I'm starving! What are we having for dinner?"

Before Chen Jianshe even entered the house, he smelled the aroma of food wafting out and called out expectantly.

Chen Deshun... I'm perfectly fine, you're the one who starved to death.

The two entered the house, plopped down at the table, and focused their attention on the dining table.

Cornmeal porridge, steamed buns, and a plate of... stir-fried shredded potatoes.

Chen Jianshe's face immediately fell: "Tsk, Dad, why is it stir-fried potato shreds again?"