From a county-level lecture hall to a nationally renowned teacher

一

On June 28, 2000, right after the graduation ceremony of the provincial capital normal university ended, Lin Zhiyuan stood in front of the ticket window of the long-distance bus station with his luggage.

"A ticket to southern Jiangxi."

"We only have an extra shuttle bus today, the one at 7 PM. Do you want it?"

"want."

He put his luggage on the security scanner and walked to the far corner of the waiting room to sit down. The provincial capital was as hot as a sauna at the end of June. The ceiling fans in the waiting room were spinning weakly, blowing out hot air.

He pulled out his Walkman and put on his earphones. The cassette tape was Xu Wei's "Elsewhere," an album he had been listening to on repeat for the last six months of his university life. As the song played, he gazed at the gray sky outside the window, his mind a jumbled mess.

Three days ago, the Chinese Department had a graduation dinner.

Of the forty-seven students in the class, more than half were drunk. Lin Zhiyuan hadn't drunk much; he wasn't the type to act recklessly when drunk. But his roommate Fang Lei, sitting next to him, was quite drunk. He had his arm around Lin Zhiyuan's shoulder, his speech was slurred, but he was still saying, "Zhiyuan, are you really going back to the county town? Do you know that your paper… Professor Wang said it could be published! If you go back to the county town, who will discuss it with you? Who will…"

Fang Lei vomited before he could finish speaking.

Lin Zhiyuan patted him on the back without saying anything.

He knew Fang Lei felt sorry for him. Fang Lei had signed a contract with a newspaper in the provincial capital, with a monthly salary of 3,500 yuan plus various subsidies. Several other students in the department who had good grades either went to key provincial high schools, or were admitted to graduate school, and even the worst-performing student found a job in the city.

Only he chose to return to that small county town in southern Jiangxi, which could only be found on a map with a magnifying glass.

There are other options.

In March, a private high school in the provincial capital came to recruit, offering an annual salary of 50,000 yuan, a single apartment, and paid winter and summer vacations. He submitted his resume, passed the initial interview, and also passed the second interview. The vice principal in charge of recruitment was very satisfied, shook his hand and said, "Xiao Lin, come and do a good job. Within three to five years, I guarantee you will become the head of the teaching and research group."

He called his father to tell him the news. There was a long silence on the other end of the line, then his father said, "Your mother wants you to make the decision yourself. As for me... just think it through."

He didn't hear his father's hesitation. Or perhaps he did, but deliberately ignored it.

Later, it was my mother who called, and she was much more blunt: "Zhiyuan, your father worked in the factory his whole life, and he only made 1,200 a month. Your 50,000 a year is equivalent to four years of his salary. Think it through."

He had thought it through very clearly.

It is precisely because I think too clearly that I am in pain.

two

The car bumped along the national highway for nearly seven hours before finally arriving in the county town at 2 a.m.

When Lin Zhiyuan got out of the car, the entire county was asleep. The streetlights at the station entrance were dim, and a few flying insects circled around the bulbs. He took a deep breath; the air had a familiar, damp smell—a southern summer, the smell of home.

"Zhiyuan?"

A voice came from the darkness. He looked over and saw his father, Lin Dehou, riding a dilapidated motorcycle with the headlights off, pushing it towards him from the opposite direction.

"Dad, why are you here? Didn't you say I didn't need to pick you up?"

"Your mother is worried. How did you manage to come back alone in the middle of the night?" Lin Dehou started the motorcycle, the engine roaring a few times. "Get on."

Lin Zhiyuan strapped his luggage to the back seat and hopped on the motorcycle. The motorcycle sped through the main street of the county town; all the shops on both sides were closed, except for a few late-night food stalls with their lights on, where a few drunken men were playing drinking games. The county town was exactly the same as when he left for winter break.

"Is the job really settled?" Lin Dehou asked from the front, his voice broken by the wind.

"It's settled. The county's No. 1 High School, reporting for duty next month."

"Hmm." Lin Dehou didn't say anything more.

When I got home, my mother, Zhou Guilan, was still waiting with the light on. There was mung bean soup on the table, still steaming slightly.

"Drink a bowl, it'll cool you down," his mother said, looking him up and down. "You've lost weight."

"I didn't lose weight, I actually gained two pounds."

"What do you mean 'fat'? You've lost all the flesh on your face." The mother said, her eyes reddening. "And your father, why didn't he stop you back then? You gave up a perfectly good job in the provincial capital and came back here..."

"Mom," Lin Zhiyuan interrupted her, "I want to come back."

"You want to come back?" Tears finally streamed down the mother's face. "Do you know that Aunt Li's son next door, who's a year below you, makes eight thousand a month in Shenzhen! Eight thousand! And you come back to be a teacher, and you only make…"

"Mom," he called again, this time in a much softer voice, "I know."

The mother wiped away her tears and said nothing more.

Lin Zhiyuan finished his mung bean soup, took a shower, and lay down on his small bed. The room was still the same as it had been in high school, with a few old books stacked on his desk and yellowed posters of sports stars on the wall. Outside the window, insects chirped, their sounds coming from afar.

He closed his eyes, but the words kept replaying in his mind—

"You came back to be a teacher, and it's only been a month..."

How much?

He knew. He had inquired about the salary at the county's No. 1 High School. The probationary period salary was 780 yuan per month, and after becoming a regular employee, it was 980 yuan. With various subsidies, it could barely reach 1,200 yuan.

One thousand and two.

He remembered Fang Lei mentioning 3,500, the private school charging over 4,000, and the legend of 8,000 in Shenzhen.

One thousand and two.

He pulled the blanket over his head, forcing himself not to think about it.

three

In mid-July, Lin Zhiyuan went to the county's No. 1 Middle School to report for duty.

The school is located on the west side of the county town, next to a small hill, with a bumpy cement road leading to the entrance. The school gate, however, is quite impressive. It was newly built two years ago during the "Universal Nine-Year Compulsory Education" inspection, and it bears a sign that reads "JX Province, Southern Jiangxi Region, Anyuan County No. 1 Middle School".

The old man at the gatehouse, surnamed Zhong, was in his fifties. Seeing him peering out the door, he poked his head out and asked, "Who are you looking for?"

"Uncle Zhong, I'm a new teacher here to report for duty."

"New here?" Old Zhong looked him up and down. "You're... Teacher Zhou's son?"

Lin Zhiyuan was stunned for a moment, then realized what he meant. His mother had been a private teacher at another primary school in the county for decades. The county was so small that everyone knew each other.

"Yes, I am Teacher Zhou's son."

"Oh my, you've grown so much!" Old Zhong chuckled, revealing a set of yellow teeth. "Your mother was a good teacher. You're a teacher too? What do you teach?"

"Chinese Language and Literature".

"Good job, good job." Old Zhong waved his hand. "Go on in, the administration office is on the second floor."

The school wasn't large; just inside the gate was the playground, with a cinder track, a dirt ball field, and a few old sycamore trees growing crookedly. The teaching building was a four-story structure with whitewashed exterior walls, some of which had peeled off, revealing the red bricks underneath.

It was summer vacation, and there weren't many people on campus. Lin Zhiyuan went up to the second floor and found the administration office. The door was open, and a man in his fifties was sitting behind a desk reading a newspaper. He was bald, wore black-rimmed glasses, and a white polyester shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows.

"Hello teacher, I'm Lin Zhiyuan, the new teacher. I'm here to report for duty."

The bald man put down his newspaper, glanced at him, then looked down and flipped through a stack of materials on the table: "Lin Zhiyuan? From the Normal University? Teaches Chinese?"

"right."

"My name is Chen Mingyuan, and I'm the head of the Chinese language teaching and research group." The bald man stood up, extended his hand, and finally a smile appeared on his face. "Welcome, Xiao Lin. Our Chinese language group hasn't had a new member in a long time; you're the first undergraduate student in recent years."

Lin Zhiyuan squeezed his hand; it was rough and strong.

Chen Mingyuan poured him a cup of tea in an enamel mug with the words "County-wide Outstanding Teachers Commendation Conference" printed on it.

"You've come at just the right time." Chen Mingyuan sat down and lit a cigarette. "The new semester is expanding the first year of high school. There were originally six classes, but this year we're recruiting eight. We're desperately short of teachers. I've told the principal so many times, 'We need people, we need people,' and when the principal said someone had arrived, I looked and saw that it was just you."

"Just me?" Lin Zhiyuan was a little surprised.

"Just you." Chen Mingyuan took a drag of his cigarette. "Think about it, all the young people in the county are leaving. Who wants to come back? You're the first college graduate to come back on your own initiative. The principal was overjoyed and called it a 'talent return'."

Lin Zhiyuan didn't know what to say.

Chen Mingyuan took another drag of his cigarette, squinting at him: "Xiao Lin, let me tell you the truth. The county's No. 1 High School is in poor condition, the salaries are low, and the students' academic foundation is weak. You might regret coming here."

"I don't regret it," Lin Zhiyuan said.

Chen Mingyuan looked at him for a few seconds, then smiled and said, "Young man, don't speak too confidently. But having the will is better than anything else."

four

The last thing to do upon arrival was to be assigned a dormitory.

A middle-aged woman from the general affairs office led him to a row of bungalows behind the teaching building, took out a key, and opened the door to one of them.

"This is the room." She handed the key to Lin Zhiyuan. "The conditions are a bit basic, but you'll have to make do for now. We'll arrange a different room for you when we have a vacancy."

Lin Zhiyuan walked in and was stunned.

The room was about fifteen square meters, containing a wooden bed, a table, and a chair. The whitewash on the walls had turned yellow and was peeling in several places. The floor was cement, uneven and pitted. A single incandescent light bulb hung from the ceiling, its shade covered in dust. The window had a wooden frame, and a piece of glass was broken and patched up with newspaper.

The worst part is that there are several water stains on the roof, which are obviously traces of rain leaks.

Seeing his expression, the middle-aged woman quickly said, "We just had the roof repaired a few days ago, it shouldn't leak anymore. Stay here and see, if it leaks again, come back to us."

Lin Zhiyuan didn't speak, put his luggage on the bed, and looked around. The room was run-down, but with a little cleaning, it should be habitable. The toilet was communal, located at the end of the corridor. There was no hot water; to take a shower, one had to go to the back of the cafeteria to get some.

He opened the window to get some fresh air. The view outside was nice; it faced the playground and showed a small hill in the distance with a few pine trees standing motionless in the summer heat.

"The conditions are not good," a voice came from the doorway.

Lin Zhiyuan turned around and saw a man in his early thirties standing at the door, wearing a basketball jersey, sweating profusely, and holding an enamel mug in his hand.

"Who are you……"

"My name is Wang Jianguo, I teach math." The man walked in, extending his hand. "I live right next door. I heard from the general affairs office that a new teacher came, so I came to check it out."

Lin Zhiyuan shook his hand: "Lin Zhiyuan, teach Chinese."

"You're good at Chinese!" Wang Jianguo smiled, revealing a set of neat white teeth. "Our school is desperately short of Chinese teachers. By the way, have you eaten yet? There's still food in the cafeteria; I'll take you there."

"Okay, thank you, Teacher Wang."

"Don't call me Teacher Wang, just call me Old Wang." Wang Jianguo patted him on the shoulder. "Come on, let's eat and chat. Let me tell you, although the conditions at this school are poor, the people are nice. You'll see once you've lived here for a while."

Lin Zhiyuan followed him out of the dormitory. The sunlight was blinding, and the playground was steaming. He glanced back at the row of bungalows, red bricks and gray tiles, which looked like a faded old photograph in the shade of the sycamore trees.

This will be where he lives from now on.

He suddenly remembered Chen Mingyuan's words—"You might regret coming."

Regret?

he does not know.

But he knew that if he didn't come back, he would regret it even more.