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

一

On the second Saturday of May, the county's No. 1 Middle School held a parent-teacher meeting after the mid-term exams.

This was Lin Zhiyuan's first time organizing a parent-teacher meeting independently since becoming a homeroom teacher. Chen Mingyuan told him that the success of the parent-teacher meeting directly affected the parents' trust in him. With trust, future work would be easier; without trust, no matter how well you did, no one would appreciate it.

Lin Zhiyuan began preparations a week in advance. He compiled each student's grades, progress, and performance at school into a document, printing more than fifty copies. He also had each student write a letter to their parents, put it in an envelope, and place it on their seat.

On the morning of the parent-teacher conference, he changed into a clean white shirt, combed his hair, and stared at himself in the mirror for a long time.

"Don't be nervous." Wang Jianguo met him in the corridor and patted him on the shoulder. "Just remember one thing—speak more kind words and less harsh words. Talk to the parents about the child's problems privately, not in front of everyone."

"understood."

At 8:30, the parents arrived one after another.

The classroom was surrounded by bicycles, motorcycles, and several cars—those belonged to Zhao Xiaoman's father, Director Zhao, as well as several parents who ran businesses in the town. The parents went into the classroom, found their children's seats, some flipped through their children's textbooks, some chatted with each other, and some sat nervously, unsure of what to do with their hands and feet.

Zhou Haitao's father arrived. He was wearing a worn-out military green jacket, his trousers rolled up, and muddy yellow rubber shoes. He limped into the classroom, found a seat in the last row by the window, and carefully touched Zhou Haitao's textbook, as if afraid of getting it dirty.

Lin Zhiyuan noticed him and went over to greet him: "Hello, Mr. Zhou Haitao."

"Hello, Teacher Lin." He stood up, stretched out his hand, which was rough and covered with calluses.

"Haitao has made great progress this semester, so don't worry."

"Thank you, Teacher Lin, thank you." He said it several times, his eyes filled with simple gratitude.

Liu Qiang's mother also arrived. She was wearing a floral shirt, her hair was permed, and she looked a bit younger than last year. As soon as she entered the classroom, she looked everywhere for Lin Zhiyuan. When she found him, she took his hand and said, "Teacher Lin, how did Liu Qiang do on the exam this time?"

"I've made great progress. My math score went from over 60 to 85, and my Chinese score has also improved significantly."

"Really?" Her eyes lit up. "This child never tells me his grades when he gets home. I thought he failed again."

No. He really tried his best.

Liu Qiang's mother's eyes reddened, and she quickly wiped them with the back of her hand: "Teacher Lin, thank you. If it weren't for you, this child might have dropped out of school long ago."

Lin Zhiyuan wanted to say, "It was his own hard work," but he swallowed the words back. He knew that some gratitude was best left unsaid.

two

The parent-teacher meeting officially started at nine o'clock.

Lin Zhiyuan stood on the podium, looking at the fifty-odd parents sitting below. Some were farmers, some were factory workers, some were small vendors, some were civil servants, and some were working in other places and couldn't come back, so they sent their grandparents instead. Their faces showed different expressions—expectation, anxiety, pride, and indifference.

"Dear parents, hello everyone. I am Lin Zhiyuan, the homeroom teacher of Class 5, Grade 11." He bowed.

The applause rang out, but it was sparse and intermittent.

"Today at the parent-teacher meeting, I'd like to address three things. First, the midterm exam results for this semester. Second, the overall situation of the class. Third, areas where parental cooperation is needed."

He turned around and wrote a few numbers on the blackboard: average score, highest score, lowest score, and grade ranking. After writing them down, he turned back and saw some parents nodding, while others frowned.

"Our class achieved the highest overall average score among humanities classes in this midterm exam. We ranked first in Chinese, second in the comprehensive humanities exam, and third and fourth in English and math, respectively, where we were slightly weaker."

He paused for a moment, watching the reaction below.

"I won't name the students with good grades; please check your children's report cards. What I want to say is that grades are not the only measure of a child's worth. Some children don't have good grades but work very hard. Some children have good grades but have problems with their attitude. As teachers and parents, we can't just look at scores."

He picked up a stack of envelopes and held them up: "These are letters the children wrote to you. Each of them wrote one. I haven't read them, so I don't know what they said. Now I'll distribute them, and you can read them yourselves."

The parents took the envelopes, opened them, and some smiled as they read them, while others cried.

Zhou Haitao's father sat in the last row, holding the letter very close to his face, reading it word by word. He didn't know many characters and couldn't understand some parts, but he read very slowly, as if savoring something. After finishing, he folded the letter and carefully put it in his pocket.

After reading the letter, Liu Qiang's mother burst into tears. A parent next to her handed her a tissue, which she used to wipe her tears before smiling again.

Lin Zhiyuan stood on the podium, watching all of this, and felt a strange, indescribable feeling.

three

After the parents' meeting, several parents stayed behind to talk to Lin Zhiyuan privately.

Zhao Xiaoman's father, Director Zhao, was the last to leave. He was wearing a dark jacket, his hair was neatly combed, and he was holding Zhao Xiaoman's report card in his hand.

"Teacher Lin, how did Xiaoman do on her exam this time?"

"His overall score ranked sixty-eighth in the grade, an improvement of more than twenty places compared to last semester."

"You've improved?" Director Zhao was a little surprised. "She never tells me about her achievements when she gets home, so I thought she was still the same as before."

"She has changed a lot this semester. She pays more attention in class and hands in her homework on time. In the last monthly exam, she ranked fifth in the class in Chinese."

Director Zhao was silent for a moment, then sighed: "Teacher Lin, after you talked to me last time, I talked to her. I told her that Dad can't arrange your whole life; you have to live your own life. She didn't say anything after hearing that, but it seems like she really changed afterward."

"She's a smart child; if she wants to learn, she'll definitely do well."

"Teacher Lin, thank you." Director Zhao extended his hand and shook it. "Xiaoman is lucky to have met you."

"Director Zhao, you're too kind."

After Director Zhao left, Lin Zhiyuan tidied up the classroom alone. He arranged the desks and chairs neatly, erased the writing on the blackboard, and picked up the scraps of paper on the floor. The classroom returned to its usual state, as if the commotion from just moments before had never happened.

He walked to the spot where Zhou Haitao's father had sat and sat there for a while. The chair still carried a faint smell of tobacco mixed with the scent of earth. He imagined the limping man who had taken a bus from a mountain village dozens of kilometers away to the county town, found this classroom, sat in the last row by the window, and carefully touched his son's textbook.

He said to the man in his heart: Don't worry, your son will get into university.

four

The weekend after the parents' meeting, Lin Zhiyuan went to Su Wanqing's house.

It wasn't a marriage proposal—Su Wanqing said, "It's still early"—it was a meal. Su Wanqing's mother had prepared a table full of dishes: braised pork, steamed fish, stir-fried vegetables, and pork rib soup.

"Xiao Lin, eat more, you're too thin." Su Wanqing's mother kept putting food on his plate.

"Thank you, Auntie."

Su Wanqing's father was in a good mood today, had a couple of drinks, and was quite talkative. He asked Lin Zhiyuan how the parent-teacher meeting went, and Lin Zhiyuan explained the situation, to which he nodded.

"Parent-teacher meetings are the best time to see a teacher's true level," said Su Wanqing's father. "I've attended parent-teacher meetings for decades. Some teachers just read out grades, some just complain, and some can convince parents completely. Which one are you?"

"I don't know yet. It's my first time driving it."

"Then you'll know next time." Su Wanqing's father smiled. "Being a teacher isn't something you learn before you do; you learn as you go."

After dinner, Su Wanqing escorted Lin Zhiyuan downstairs. It was already dark, and the neighborhood was quiet, with only a few cats meowing in heat.

"Your dad is in a good mood today," Lin Zhiyuan said.

"He's always like this. He gets talkative after a few drinks."

"He's not just talkative, he has a point."

Su Wanqing looked at him: "Do you think my dad is right?"

"Yes. 'You learn by doing'—that's definitely true for teachers."

Su Wanqing lowered her head, remained silent for a moment, and then suddenly said, "Lin Zhiyuan, do you think you've learned it?"

"Learn what?"

"To become a teacher."

Lin Zhiyuan thought for a moment: "I've learned a little bit. I'm still learning most of it."

"When will you be able to learn it?"

"I may never learn it in my entire life."

Su Wanqing looked up at him; her eyes shone brightly in the moonlight.

"Then take your time learning," she said. "I'll help you."

Lin Zhiyuan reached out and took her hand. Both of their hands were warm, and when they clasped together, it felt like two flames meeting.

五

In late May, the literary society's activities entered a new phase.

Chen Yutong's novel has reached over 20,000 words. She shows Lin Zhiyuan the newly written chapters every week, and after reading them, Lin Zhiyuan writes some comments, sometimes saying "the dialogue here could be more natural," and sometimes "this character is very well written, continue to develop it."

Li Siyuan also started writing. He wrote a story about young people in a small town, with a somber tone and characters all carrying a strange melancholy. After reading it, Lin Zhiyuan thought it was too gloomy and asked him, "Why did you write everyone so unhappy?"

"Because life is just unhappy," Li Siyuan said.

"Life has its happy moments too."

"Then write down a happy one for me to see."

Lin Zhiyuan was speechless. He went back and actually wrote a short essay about his walk with Su Wanqing along the riverbank. After finishing it, he showed it to Li Siyuan, who said, "This doesn't read like a novel, it reads like a diary."

"A diary is fine too. As long as you're happy."

Li Siyuan didn't say anything more, but some bright colors began to appear in his later novels.

This semester, the literary society also did something else—they produced a handwritten newspaper. Wu Tingting was in charge of layout and copying. It took her a whole week to copy the best works of the literary society members onto a large white sheet of paper, drew a border around the edges, drew a small boat in the middle, and wrote the words "Chen Fan" (meaning "Morning Sail").

The handwritten posters were pasted on the wall outside the classroom, and passersby would stop to take a look. One day, the principal walked by, looked at them for a while, and asked, "Who made this?"

"Ms. Lin from the Chinese language group," someone answered.

The principal nodded, neither agreeing nor disagreeing, and left.

But the next day, the teaching affairs office informed Lin Zhiyuan that the school had decided to allocate some funds to the literary society, two hundred yuan per semester, to be used to purchase paper, pens and activity supplies.

Two hundred yuan. Not much, but Lin Zhiyuan was very happy. He told the members of the literary society the news, and everyone cheered.

"We can print our publication now!" Wu Tingting said.

"Two hundred dollars isn't enough to print a publication," Lin Zhiyuan said.

"Then we can print a few copies and distribute them to each class."

Lin Zhiyuan thought about it and thought it was a good idea. He decided that starting next semester, he would publish a mimeographed issue of "Chenfan" every two months, printing fifty copies of each issue, and placing them in the library for students to borrow.

This decision later proved to be one of the boldest and most meaningful things he did at the county's No. 1 High School.

六

In early June, a small incident occurred.

That afternoon, Lin Zhiyuan was grading homework in his office when Shen Ruohan suddenly came over and placed an envelope on his desk.

"Teacher Lin, this is for you."

Lin Zhiyuan opened the envelope; inside was an invitation—Shen Ruohan was getting married.

"You're getting married?" He was a little surprised.

"Yes. Next Saturday."

"Congratulations." Lin Zhiyuan stood up, extended his hand, and asked, "Who is the groom?"

"You don't know him. He's from the city, a businessman." Shen Ruohan's tone was flat, lacking the excitement of a bride-to-be.

Lin Zhiyuan looked at her expression, hesitant to speak.

"Are you trying to ask why I was transferred from the provincial capital to the county seat?" Shen Ruohan suddenly asked.

Lin Zhiyuan paused for a moment, then nodded.

"Because he works in the city," Shen Ruohan said. "I was transferred to the county seat, to be closer to him. The provincial capital is too far away."

"Were you in a long-distance relationship before?"

"Yes. He runs a business in the city, and I teach in the provincial capital. We're hundreds of kilometers apart." Shen Ruohan smiled, but there was an indescribable bitterness in her smile. "Now it's better. I live in the county town, only an hour's drive from him."

Lin Zhiyuan didn't know what to say. He felt there was something hidden in Shen Ruohan's tone, but he didn't ask.

"Teacher Shen, I wish you happiness," he said.

"Thank you." Shen Ruohan turned around and went back to her desk, picked up her red pen, and continued grading homework.

Watching her head down grading homework, Lin Zhiyuan suddenly realized that everyone has their own story. He didn't know if he was right, but he felt that Shen Ruohan's transfer to the county town might not just be to be closer to that person.

Perhaps, it's also to get further away from certain things.

Lin Zhiyuan attended the wedding. He and Wang Jianguo took a shuttle bus to the city. The wedding was held in the lobby of a hotel; many people attended, and it was a lively affair. The groom, in his early thirties, was dressed in a suit and tie, looked very smart, spoke loudly, and had a hearty laugh.

Shen Ruohan wore a white wedding dress and makeup, looking much prettier than usual. She stood next to the groom, smiling, toasting, and exchanging pleasantries with the guests. But Lin Zhiyuan noticed that her eyes didn't crinkle when she smiled.

On the shuttle bus back, Wang Jianguo said, "Teacher Shen's marriage is a bit strange."

"What's strange about it?"

"I can't quite put my finger on it. I just feel... like she's not very happy."

Lin Zhiyuan didn't reply. He looked out the window; it was already dark, and the streetlights receded one by one. He wondered, what exactly is marriage? Is it two people who love each other coming together, or two people who are compatible? Or is it simply about reaching a certain age and finding someone to marry?

He didn't know. But he hoped that his marriage with Su Wanqing wouldn't be like this.

Seven

Late June, a week before the final exams.

Lin Zhiyuan wrote a line on the blackboard in the classroom: "Last week, sprint."

The students looked at the words with varying expressions. Some were eager to try, some looked worried, and some were indifferent.

"I won't be teaching any new material this last week," Lin Zhiyuan said. "You can review on your own. If you have any questions, feel free to come to my office."

He started walking around the classroom, tutoring each student individually. Zhou Haitao was doing English exercises and encountered a long, difficult sentence he couldn't understand. Lin Zhiyuan helped him analyze the sentence structure—although his English wasn't great, he still had a solid foundation in grammar from his university studies. Liu Qiang was doing math problems and got stuck halfway through. Lin Zhiyuan gave him a hint with a formula. Zhao Xiaoman was memorizing her humanities knowledge; Lin Zhiyuan quizzed her on a few points, which she answered correctly.

After evening self-study ended, Lin Zhiyuan walked out of the classroom and stood in the corridor for a while. The summer night wind was hot, carrying the smell of earth from the playground. The distant mountain shadows appeared and disappeared in the night, like a sleeping giant.

"Teacher Lin."

He turned around; it was Chen Yutong.

"What's wrong?"

"I...I want to tell you something."

"Speak."

After hesitating for a long time, Chen Yutong finally spoke: "My parents are getting a divorce."

Lin Zhiyuan was stunned.

"They've been arguing for years. They used to argue behind our backs, but now they argue in front of me. Yesterday, my mom told me she's moving out."

"you……"

"I'm fine," Chen Yutong interrupted him. "I just wanted to tell you. You said before that when you're sad, you shouldn't bear it alone."

Lin Zhiyuan looked at her. There was no trace of crying on her face, and her expression was very calm, so calm that it didn't seem like that of a seventeen-year-old girl whose parents were getting a divorce.

"Are you alright?" he asked.

"It's alright," Chen Yutong said. "Actually, their divorce is a relief for me. If they hadn't divorced, coming home every day felt like going to my execution. Now that they're divorced, it's peaceful."

Lin Zhiyuan didn't know how to respond. He knew Chen Yutong was telling the truth, but the fact that a seventeen-year-old girl had uttered the word "relief" made him feel very uncomfortable.

"Chen Yutong, if you need someone to talk to, I'm always here."

"I understand." She nodded. "Thank you, Teacher Lin."

She turned and walked away. The corridor lights illuminated her back; her backpack strap was still slipping off her elbow, and her gait was no different from usual.

Lin Zhiyuan watched her disappear at the bottom of the stairs and suddenly realized that being a teacher is not just about teaching. What you have to face is far more complex than the texts in the textbook.

He stood in the corridor for a long time.