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

一

On September 1, 2001, Lin Zhiyuan officially became the homeroom teacher of Class 5, Grade 9.

He arrived at school at 6:30 in the morning. There were already quite a few students at the school gate, chatting and laughing as they walked in. Standing under the teaching building, looking at those young faces, he suddenly realized that from today onwards, some of these people would be his "soldiers".

The classroom door was open. He went in and added a few more words to the blackboard:

"Welcome back, Grade 11 (5). New semester, new beginning."

After finishing writing, I took two steps back and looked at it. I felt that the three characters "New Beginning" were written a bit crookedly, but I was too lazy to change them.

After seven o'clock, the students arrived one after another.

Sun Xiaolei was the first to rush in, shouting before even putting down her schoolbag, "Teacher Lin! Are you still teaching our class?"

"Yes, I am the homeroom teacher."

"Great!" She ran to her usual seat in the first row and sat down. "I was worried about getting a new homeroom teacher."

Zhou Haitao was the second to arrive. He carried his old schoolbag, walked in with his head down, and when he saw Lin Zhiyuan standing on the podium, he paused for a moment, then smiled slightly and walked to the last row by the window.

Liu Qiang arrived, wearing a new T-shirt and with shorter hair, looking much more energetic. "Good morning, Teacher Lin!" His voice was much louder than last semester.

Zhao Xiaoman arrived, wearing a white dress, her hair permed, as if she had just come from a hair salon. She saw Lin Zhiyuan, smiled, didn't say anything, and found a seat.

Chen Yutong was the last to arrive. She walked in with dark circles under her eyes, yawning, her backpack strap slipping down to her elbow, looking like she hadn't slept properly. Seeing Lin Zhiyuan, she mumbled "Good morning, teacher," then slumped onto the desk and continued sleeping.

Lin Zhiyuan checked his watch: 7:25. Five people were still needed.

He waited another five minutes, and three more arrived. The last two were nowhere to be seen. He looked at the class roster—two new faces, transferred from other classes.

He walked into the corridor and looked down. There were no students left on the playground; only a few teachers were walking towards the teaching building.

"I'm not waiting anymore." He walked back to the classroom and stood on the podium.

Hello, students.

"Hello, teacher—" The voices were scattered.

"For the first class of the new semester, I'd like to say a few things." He picked up the chalk and wrote his phone number on the blackboard. "This is my phone number. You can call me if you need anything."

The students began to write down the numbers.

"Secondly, I'll be your homeroom teacher this semester. It's not because I requested it; it's the school's arrangement. But now that I've taken on this role, I'll do it well. If you have any questions—whether about your studies, your life, or your feelings—you can come to me."

"The third thing—" He paused, "This semester our class is a humanities class. Choosing humanities means you're interested in subjects like Chinese, history, and politics, or at least you don't dislike them. But I want to remind you that humanities doesn't mean easy. On the contrary, to do well in humanities, you need to put in more effort than in science. Science has standard answers, but humanities doesn't. Things without standard answers are the most difficult."

"Finally," he put down the chalk, "I'll be stricter this semester. Not because I've changed, but because it's the second year of high school. The second year is the most crucial year of your three years. You can relax in the first year, and you can work hard in the third year, but the second year—you must be steady. I'll be watching each and every one of you, and no one will be allowed to slack off."

The classroom was silent for a few seconds.

Then Liu Qiang raised his hand: "Teacher Lin, what do you mean by 'staring'?"

"It means exactly what it says," Lin Zhiyuan said. "If you sleep in class, I'll keep an eye on you. If you don't hand in your homework, I'll keep an eye on you. If your grades drop, I'll keep an eye on you. If you're in a relationship, I'll keep an eye on you too."

The whole class burst into laughter.

"What are you laughing at?" Lin Zhiyuan laughed too. "I'm telling the truth."

two

During the first week of school, Lin Zhiyuan did one thing—he called the parents of every student.

Fifty-four students, fifty-four phone calls. He spent two days calling them one by one, during evening self-study and lunch breaks. Some parents worked in other cities and couldn't be reached by phone; some parents were very nervous when they received the call, thinking their child had done something wrong at school; some parents were very polite, saying, "Thank you for your hard work, Teacher Lin"; some parents were very impatient, saying, "Just tell me what's wrong, I'm very busy."

By the time he made his thirtieth call, his voice was hoarse.

"Have some water," Su Wanqing said with concern when she came to see him that evening and saw him still on the phone.

"There are twenty-four left."

"Can't we play tomorrow?"

"There's always tomorrow."

Su Wanqing sighed, poured him a glass of water, and sat down beside him to listen.

He called Zhou Haitao's father. An aged voice answered the phone: "Feed?"

"Hello, I am Zhou Haitao's homeroom teacher, my surname is Lin."

"Hello, Teacher Lin...Did Haitao do something wrong?"

"No, no, he did very well. I just wanted to tell you that Haitao has made great progress this semester, and his Chinese score is in the top three in the class. Please encourage him."

There was a long silence on the other end of the phone. Then the aged voice said, "Teacher Lin, thank you. I... I'm not very educated, but I'm counting on you for Haitao's matter."

"Don't worry."

I called Liu Qiang's mother. The woman answered the phone; her voice was very noisy, like she was in a market.

"Teacher Lin! Liu Qiang has gotten into trouble again?"

"No, Auntie. Liu Qiang has changed a lot this semester. He's more attentive in class and hands in his homework. I wanted to tell you that he's made progress."

"Really?" The woman's voice suddenly changed, trembling with a hint of tears. "Teacher Lin, are you telling the truth?"

"Really. You should encourage him more."

"Oh, oh, I'll definitely encourage him. Thank you, Teacher Lin, thank you so much..."

After hanging up the phone, Lin Zhiyuan leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes.

Su Wanqing handed him the water: "Are you tired?"

"I'm not tired," he said. "My throat just hurts a little."

"Is this how all homeroom teachers are?"

"I don't know. This is my first time doing it too."

Su Wanqing laughed: "Do you know that the way you talk on the phone looks like my dad?"

What does your dad do?

"He was a teacher too. A primary school teacher, he taught his whole life." She paused, "When he called students' parents, he used the same tone. He was careful, afraid of saying the wrong thing, yet wanting to say the right thing."

Lin Zhiyuan opened his eyes and looked at her: "Is your father still teaching?"

"I retired. I wasn't feeling well." Su Wanqing lowered her head. "That's why I came back."

Neither of them spoke. Someone was playing the erhu outside the window, the music intermittent, and it was impossible to tell what tune it was. A night breeze blew in, carrying the scent of osmanthus blossoms.

"Su Wanqing".

"Um?"

Thank you for being with me.

Su Wanqing looked up at him, then lowered her head again, a slight smile playing on her lips.

three

The trouble started in the second week.

The problem lies with Zhao Xiaoman.

On the third day of school, math teacher Zhang Yufang came to see Lin Zhiyuan, looking rather grim: "Mr. Lin, Zhao Xiaoman from your class kept looking in the mirror during class. I said a few words to her, and she put the mirror away, rolled her eyes, and didn't look up for the rest of the class."

"I'll talk to her."

"You talk," Zhang Yufang shook her head. "This child, relying on his family connections, doesn't respect anyone."

Lin Zhiyuan called Zhao Xiaoman to his office.

Zhao Xiaoman stood in front of him, her expression indifferent, revealing no emotion. She was wearing a new dress, her hair tied in a high ponytail, and a pair of small earrings.

"Your math teacher said you were looking in the mirror during class."

"Um."

"Is there anything you'd like to say?"

"no."

"Zhao Xiaoman," Lin Zhiyuan tried to keep his tone calm, "I'm not trying to criticize you. I want to know, why did you look in the mirror during class?"

Zhao Xiaoman was silent for a moment, then said, "Boring."

"boring?"

"Math class is boring. I don't understand anything the teacher says, so it's useless. I might as well look in the mirror."

"If you don't understand, why don't you ask?"

"I couldn't understand even if I asked."

Lin Zhiyuan looked at her. He knew Zhao Xiaoman wasn't stupid, she just didn't want to learn. She had been pampered since childhood and was used to having everything arranged for her. Learning required effort, which she wasn't used to.

"Zhao Xiaoman, I have something to tell you."

"What is it?"

What score did you get on your math final exam last semester?

"...52".

"52 out of 150"

"Um."

"Did you know that if you get 90 points on your math test, you can rank in the top 50 of your grade?"

Zhao Xiaoman's eyes twitched.

"Your Chinese and English are both good, and your humanities subjects are also okay. It's just that math is dragging you down. If you improve your math, you'll have no problem getting into a good university."

"I don't want to get into a good university."

Why?

"What's the point of getting into a good university? You still have to find a job after graduation." Zhao Xiaoman's tone carried a weariness beyond her years. "My dad said it doesn't matter if I don't get into university, he can arrange it."

Lin Zhiyuan fell silent. He knew Zhao Xiaoman was telling the truth. In this small county, connections could indeed solve many problems. But he also knew that some things connections couldn't solve.

"Your father can arrange things for you for a while, but not for a lifetime," he said. "Your life is ultimately your own."

Zhao Xiaoman looked up at him, her eyes holding something indescribable.

"Teacher Lin, you sound just like my grandfather."

"Your grandfather?"

"My grandfather used to be a teacher too." She paused, "and he said the exact same thing."

four

Before Zhao Xiaoman's matter could be resolved, another incident occurred.

On Thursday evening, when Lin Zhiyuan checked the dorms, he found that Chen Yutong was not in the room. Her roommate said that she went out after dinner and had not returned.

Lin Zhiyuan circled the school gate but couldn't find her. He went to the playground, the library, and the teaching building, but still nothing. Finally, he found her in the small garden behind the school—she was sitting alone on a stone bench, hugging her knees, gazing at the sky.

"Chen Yutong".

She turned her head and saw it was him. She wasn't surprised or flustered; she simply said, "Teacher Lin."

Why are you here all alone?

"Look at the stars."

Lin Zhiyuan looked up at the sky. The night sky in the county town wasn't as bright as in the city; you could see some stars, but not many.

What's so special about the stars today?

"There's nothing to see," Chen Yutong said. "I just want to be alone."

Lin Zhiyuan sat down on the stone bench next to her. It was a bit chilly at night, and the stone bench was icy cold, making it very uncomfortable to sit on.

"Bad mood?"

"no."

"Then why don't you go back to the dorm?"

Chen Yutong remained silent for a long time. So long that Lin Zhiyuan thought she wouldn't answer. Then she suddenly spoke, her voice very soft: "Teacher Lin, don't you feel that living is very tiring?"

Lin Zhiyuan's heart clenched suddenly.

Why do you say that?

"I don't know." She lowered her head. "I just feel tired. Every day is the same thing over and over again. Go to class, eat, sleep. Go to class, eat, sleep. It never ends. I don't even know why."

"Didn't you want to be a writer before?"

"That was before," Chen Yutong said. "Now I feel it doesn't matter whether I'm in that position or not."

Lin Zhiyuan wanted to say something, but didn't know what to say. He wasn't a psychologist; he didn't know what was on this girl's mind. He only knew that she needed someone to listen to her.

"Chen Yutong, I need to tell you something."

"Um."

"When I was in high school, I was also confused for a while. I felt that studying was meaningless, life was meaningless, and I was just drifting through each day. Then one day, my Chinese teacher talked to me. He said something to me that I still remember to this day."

"What did you say?"

He said, "You find it boring because you haven't found what you want to do yet. Once you find it, it will be interesting."

Chen Yutong looked up at him: "So, did you find it?"

"Found it," Lin Zhiyuan said. "To be a teacher."

Chen Yutong lowered her head again and remained silent.

"You don't need to rush," Lin Zhiyuan said. "You're still young, you have plenty of time. But you have to promise me one thing."

"What is it?"

"If you ever feel particularly tired or sad, don't bear it alone. Come to me. Or talk to someone you trust. Don't be alone."

Chen Yutong remained silent for a long time before nodding.

"Let's go back," Lin Zhiyuan said, standing up. "We have class tomorrow."

Chen Yutong stood up and brushed the dust off her skirt. After taking a couple of steps, she suddenly turned back: "Teacher Lin, you won't tell anyone about what happened today, will you?"

"Won't."

"Thanks."

She left. Her figure flickered in and out of the streetlights, growing farther and farther away, until she finally disappeared into the doorway of the girls' dormitory building.

Lin Zhiyuan stood there, the autumn night wind blowing chilly. He suddenly realized that being a homeroom teacher was much harder than being a subject teacher. Subject teachers only needed to teach, but homeroom teachers also had to worry about these things—grades, discipline, psychology, and family. None of them were easy.

He took out his phone and sent Su Wanqing a text message: "Are you asleep?"

A while later, a reply came: "Not yet. Just got off work. Why aren't you asleep yet?"

"Thinking about something."

"What are you thinking about?"

"How do you want to be a good homeroom teacher?"

"You're already a good teacher. Take your time with the homeroom teacher role."

Lin Zhiyuan felt a warmth in his heart as he looked at the words on the screen. He put his phone in his pocket and walked back to his dormitory. The moon hung in the sky, round and bright, like a lamp.

五

Over the weekend, Lin Zhiyuan went to Zhao Xiaoman's house.

It wasn't Zhao Xiaoman who invited him; he decided to go on his own. He felt that things couldn't be explained clearly over the phone, and some things needed to be said in person.

Zhao Xiaoman's home is in the best residential area in the county town, a three-story villa with a yard. Several osmanthus trees grow in the yard, in full bloom, their fragrance wafting far and wide.

Director Zhao was at home, dressed casually in his pajamas. He was a little surprised to see Lin Zhiyuan, but quickly and warmly invited him to sit down.

"Teacher Lin, has Xiaoman gotten into trouble again?"

"No, no, Director Zhao, please don't misunderstand." Lin Zhiyuan took the tea offered by the nanny. "I just wanted to talk to you about Xiaoman's studies."

Director Zhao leaned back on the sofa, legs crossed: "Xiaoman has been spoiled by us since she was little. She doesn't care about her studies, and we can't do anything about it. But Teacher Lin, you don't need to worry too much. If it really comes down to it, we can send her to study abroad."

Go abroad to study. Lin Zhiyuan knew what those four words meant.

"Director Zhao, I'm not here to complain to you. I want to ask you for a favor."

"What kind of help?"

"Please tell Xiaoman that you cannot arrange her future."

Director Zhao frowned slightly: "What do you mean?"

"Xiaoman told me that you said it's okay if she doesn't get into university, you can make arrangements for her." Lin Zhiyuan tried to keep his tone calm. "I know you meant well, but those words made her not want to study anymore."

Director Zhao remained silent for a moment, then picked up his teacup and took a sip.

"Teacher Lin, you're a teacher, you should know that in today's society, academic qualifications aren't that important anymore. Connections and connections are more important than anything else."

"Director Zhao, I disagree."

Director Zhao looked up at him, a hint of displeasure in his eyes.

Lin Zhiyuan took a deep breath: "Academic qualifications may not be that important, but ability is. Where does ability come from? From learning. Learning is not just about acquiring knowledge, but also about learning how to face difficulties, how to solve problems, and how to find a way out when there seems to be no way out. If you let Xiaoman feel that she always has a way out, she will never give it her all."

The living room was quiet for a few seconds. The fragrance of osmanthus wafted in from the yard, almost cloyingly sweet.

Director Zhao put down his teacup and smiled: "Teacher Lin, you talk exactly like my dad."

Lin Zhiyuan was taken aback. These were words Zhao Xiaoman had said.

"My dad was a teacher too, he taught his whole life." Director Zhao stood up, walked to the window, and looked at the osmanthus tree in the yard. "He said something similar to me back then. I didn't listen to him. Now that I think about it, he might have been right."

He turned around and looked at Lin Zhiyuan: "Okay, I'll talk to Xiaoman. Thank you, Teacher Lin."

六

At the end of September, the school organized a monthly exam.

The results for Class 5 of Grade 11 were released, ranking second among the humanities classes. It wasn't bad, but Lin Zhiyuan wasn't very satisfied. He analyzed the students' scores one by one and discovered a pattern: students with good scores were good in all subjects; students with poor scores often had one or two subjects that were particularly bad.

He decided to do one thing—create a "growth portfolio" for each student.

Upon hearing this, Wang Jianguo laughed uncontrollably: "Aren't you taking this way too seriously? More than fifty people, are you going to create files for each one individually? Do you even have the time?"

"have."

"What about your girlfriend? She's not contacting you anymore?"

"She's busy too."

Wang Jianguo shook his head: "Zhiyuan, let me tell you, you can't be too strict as a homeroom teacher. There are some students, no matter how much effort you put in, it won't work. You'll get better results if you focus your energy on the students who are willing to learn."

Lin Zhiyuan knew Wang Jianguo was right. But he couldn't do it.

He recalled Zhou Haitao's mother saying, "This is how our lives are, he can't be like this too," he recalled Liu Qiang's mother's tearful voice when she answered the phone in the vegetable market, he recalled Chen Yutong sitting alone in the garden saying, "Living is so tiring," and he recalled Zhao Xiaoman saying, "You don't treat me as the teacher of the director's daughter."

Each of these children deserves his serious attention.

He got to work. He bought fifty-four folders and labeled each one. In each folder, he put a table to record the scores, progress, and problems encountered in each exam. There was also a blank sheet of paper to record conversations with students.

This matter took him two whole weekends. Su Wanqing came to the school to find him, saw the desk full of folders, paused for a moment, and then smiled.

"When are you going to stop?"

"Soon."

"I'll help you." She sat down, picked up a folder, and asked, "Whose is this?"

"Zhou Haitao's."

She flipped through it and saw several photocopies of Zhou Haitao's essays, as well as comments written by Lin Zhiyuan.

"His essays are really well written," Su Wanqing said.

"Yes. He's the most talented student I've ever seen."

"Then you must nurture him well."

Lin Zhiyuan looked at her. She lowered her head and carefully helped him sort the folders, arranging them by student ID number. Her fingers were slender, and her nails were cut very short, a habit of doctors.

"Su Wanqing".

"Um?"

"Thank you."

"You said thank you several times today."

"Because it's true."

She looked up at him and smiled. Her smile was brighter than the sunlight streaming through the window.