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I am trying to answer your question without allowing myself a second to think about it, since that is the only respect I could ever demonstrate to such a innocent child,regardless it's fictionary or not.

If I were a classmate and a neighbor to her, I would ask my parents to talk to her parents to see if anything could be done from their level. And I would try to get her to join my after school study group(we had a lot of that types of groups then) just to distract her a bit from her usual mood.

In fact, in my p.s years, we're playing in groups and really having fun(not without mischievous tricks once in a while) when we got to looked back together now. But these types of tragedy always shred my heart in pieces more than any other ones, because kids are kids, they don't have the capacity to protect themselves at all most of the time, that's what parents are there for, but u see......

But at the end of the day, we were not there, she left the world with all her little sad mind......
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  • 工作学习 / 外语学习 / How I Fell in Love with English (2)
    本文发表在 rolia.net 枫下论坛We all called the girl who had shared the desk with me “Two Bars” – she was a captain of Youth Pioneer League for which she had a plastic patch pinned on her left arm with two bright red bars on it. She was not pretty, but that was not the reason why most boys tried to keep a distance from her. Understandably, having a nagging mother at home was already miserable enough, having another one at school would surely drive them crazy.


    She, bright, diligent and helpful, was a teachers’ eye candy; I, reckless, procrastinating, sarcastic, stood for trouble. The mere sight of us seating side by side was enough to prompt a good laugh.


    When the news that Two Bar was asked to help me with my English became known in the class, I had been jested for weeks. I felt my dignity and ego was brutally bruised and needed immediate repair. There was no way for me to subject to this kind of humiliation - whenever it was time for her to help me with my English, I acted up, blatantly showing my absent-mindedness, making faces or simply playing dumb.


    One day, after several failed attempts in engaging me in English study, probably having enough with my stupidity, she looked at the desk in front of her and tears started to roll down on her cheeks. I was dumbfounded, and, then, I relented. Having never been in that kind of situation before, I did not know what to do despite a number of things did across my mind. But I did nothing helpful, mentally debating, squirming in my seat and smiling awkwardly to the rest of the class. Abruptly, she got up and went out of the door.


    Next day, she acted like nothing had happened. I found I was attracted to her.


    On a Sunday, I went to a book store with my father who was browsing some mechanic books while leaving me roaming freely. I stumbled upon a big sketch book. My eyes instantly stayed on a page on which there was a sketch of naked woman. I swore I could hear my heart pounding, my hands clammy, suspecting all people in the book store were watching me. But I could not move my eyes until someone yanked the book out of my hand, startling me out of my trance. It was my dad. But I made a mental note there and then that I would come back – alone.


    Somehow, I had this weird imagining of Two Bar in one of those sketch pictures. I began fantasizing about her and involuntarily watched her every move, during recess, on playground and on her way home. Sometimes, in order not look too obviously, I glanced at her through the corner of my eyes until my vision blurred because of excessive strain. I particularly liked her thinking posture when she was deeply engrossed in her reading, one hand holding the book, the other fiddling her big plait, afternoon sunlight slanting through window enveloping her in a bright aura and warm breeze gently caressing her forehead hair. This scene was seared in my memory for the rest of my life.


    My English had not improved, but the scheduled self-study with Two Bar had become something I was looking forward to.


    My Chinese essays were good. I found it much easier to write Chinese essay than to compose an English sentence. You only need to know how to beat the system. Most students were quite unimaginative, keeping writing platitude such as picking up a coin at a roadside and sending it to a policeman, or helping a senile neighbour clean house because her son was in the army etc. I quickly found out the Chinese writing format and became pretty good at it. There wasn’t any analysis, reasoning, deducing and inducing, critical thinking needed, all it took was opulent sentiment on extolling something, condemning something, or most of time both. For instance, I could easily spin on a rusty nail that our socialist future needed us study harder to prevent from rusting; or you saw a half brick, which could mean you need to contribute your effort one step at time because our glorious socialist country were figuratively built with numerous bricks... Once I knew how to write Chinese essays, the rest was simple: the subjects were virtually endless - a broken broom, half paper, three-leg chair etc. I felt particularly good when Two Bars borrowed my essays that were used as examples and read before the whole class. I shared with her my writing secret unreservedly, as matter of fact, I was willing to do anything for her.


    Someone in my school had designed a rather sadistic way to rank students: at the end of the each term, all the scores of different subjects would be tallied, averaged and ranked accordingly. The rankings along with student names were handwritten in black with a paintbrush against a huge red poster. The poster was usually taped beside the blackboard in front of the class for weeks. It dramatically amplified the glory for the students whose rankings were high and also exacerbated the misery of students whose rankings were low. My ranking was low, very low.


    The true judgemental day was the day after a meeting between the teacher and the parents. Parents whose children ranked low had to talk to the teacher individually in her office where they were basically scolded and humiliated. Those parents would normally in turn beat the shit out of their children when they went back home.


    Despite my poor academic performance, my parents never beat me. But the sadness on their faces made my misery no less painful. My neighbour was a girl who happened to be also in my class. She never spoke to anyone and always buried her face in books studying something. Her clothing rarely matched her figure. She was almost invisible to the rest of the class as if her existence was a sorry mistake. Despite all her efforts, her scores were terrible. If she were in Canada today, I think she could be identified as having autism or something and be given special attention. After every Judgement Day, her father would beat her up pretty badly. His yelling mingled with her wailing made the whole building like Guo Ming Dang torture dungeon in the movie. The rumour went like her father wanted a son. My parents usually rushed out and knock on her door trying to stop the beating. Her misfortune somehow took a lot pressure off my misery. Therefore I secretly call her my Angel Guardian.


    One day in my 5th grade, my Angel Gardian was found drowned in a small pond. No one knew what happened. I was completely traumatised. For the first time in my life, I was this close to death. All of sudden, death was no longer as romantic as something you could visualize in a movie when our never-die People’s Liberation Army heroes meowed down layers of clumsy Guo Ming Dang reactionary or American soldiers with machine guns and grenades, but a concrete and tragic ending of a human life. However, secretly, I thought maybe it wasn’t that bad for her after all. What was there for her in this life anyway?


    Good news for 5 graders was there were no final exams; bad news was we were required to take Middle School Entrance Exams.


    Two Bars and I ended up in different junior high schools – she was accepted by one of the best schools and me by the worst in the city according to our respective entrance exam results. The school I went to had managed to send only two students to universities over the school’s history; rest of students ended up in various professions like cook, bus ticket collector, janitor, factory worker, prisoner etc. My family was so disappointed in me that they have readjusted their expectations from keeping me out of trouble to keeping me out of prison. To me, for better or worse, it was a new start and I was looking forward to leaving my sorrowful past behind.更多精彩文章及讨论,请光临枫下论坛 rolia.net
    • SF
    • nice story
    • interesting biography, maybe more of a story. look forward to No. (3).
      • I am glad that you enjoy it. I haven’t decided what and how to write in (3), but I will leave it up to the next Sunday morning.
        • fixate right time to rest and you will find more productivity and efficiency out of yourself. Thank you for bringing up the 'refined' english. i am so much soaked in everyday/practical english now and forgot the entertainment of it.
    • 竟然能在俺的英文偶像的英文里看到错,俺很激动。写的很不错。
      • 鸡蛋里面挑骨头呀? 几个不经意的小小错误是瑕不掩瑜吗.
        • 是太激动了。
          • 艾瑞克下次要更加精雕细刻啊, 别再让你纠错儿.
            • Thank you! I should have proofread it before I posted it. I am getting sloppy this time. I thought about it but laziness overtook me in the end. I will improve it in my next story.
              Correction:

              seating == > being seated
              Two Bar ==> Two Bars
              across == > came across
              Judgemental day ==> Judgement Day
    • Truly wish it's just about a story,sigh......especially for the girl who fade away for nothing, who the hell has the right to treat her that way!!!no excuse could ever Be there to treat a human being that way,even if u r her parents!!!
      • side question - if you were there seeing the girl being treated so, what would you do at the moment? serious question, not to tease
        • I am trying to answer your question without allowing myself a second to think about it, since that is the only respect I could ever demonstrate to such a innocent child,regardless it's fictionary or not.
          If I were a classmate and a neighbor to her, I would ask my parents to talk to her parents to see if anything could be done from their level. And I would try to get her to join my after school study group(we had a lot of that types of groups then) just to distract her a bit from her usual mood.

          In fact, in my p.s years, we're playing in groups and really having fun(not without mischievous tricks once in a while) when we got to looked back together now. But these types of tragedy always shred my heart in pieces more than any other ones, because kids are kids, they don't have the capacity to protect themselves at all most of the time, that's what parents are there for, but u see......

          But at the end of the day, we were not there, she left the world with all her little sad mind......
          • I don't know if you ever heard of a name Delilah. There was a story I listened just within the last 2D. A mom, after the Dad moved on, leaving two kids at home, partied outside. It was a neighbor asking Delilah for advice
            http://www.delilah.com/pages/stations.html.

            Delilah said -

            If you really love the kids, report to law enforcement immediately so they can be cared.

            This is from me

            If I was a kid, I would not have done any better than you mentioned and/or proposed.
            • 我也只是用现在的思想,假想那时可能采取的措施而已,真是身处其境,谁也说不准了. 不过现代人的种类太多,所谓林子大鸟太多,虐童事件一定是应该报警的.即使这样, 不幸的孩子还是那么多....
          • Your instant answer is what I asked for and I appreciate your answer very much.
      • You are absolutely right. I am sure you are an excellent father. Child abuse was not unusual in my childhood and I am sorry I can’t tell you if the story is true or not. :)
    • “…afternoon sunlight slanting through window enveloping her in a bright aura and warm breeze gently caressing her forehead hair.” - The most gentle and beautiful memories from the young and innocent time…
      • You probably won’t believe it - I had a hunch that you were going to like this part. And I am right!
    • 不错。
    • Thank you all for your comments.
      I didn’t expect it took me more than three hours to write this story and I skipped proofreading which I shouldn’t have. One thing leads to another, I slept through the whole Sunday morning and now I am behind on everything and a total wreck.

      I will see you all on next Sunday.
      • I like your English. It is so good..........but please don't take away your sleeping time for writing this story. Health is most important.
    • clapping my hands
      i'd rather see you writing at 4pm though. health, Eric!
    • What a beautiful story! The girl who drowned makes me cry.
      Your story reminds me one of my classmate who was a boy. He was always beat by his father while he was tied on a cross after the "Judgemental Day". Fortunately, he didn't die... I also learned lots of new vocabulary and usages. Thank you for sharing, and look forward for chapter 3.
    • a very nice read. thank you eric.
    • Beautiful ... our 70's experience particularly ... there's something buried in our memories like treasure ... very pleased reading the thing written in English in this beautiful way ...