ebookland Chapter 369 Staying at the School to Teach
Chapter 369 Staying at the School to Teach
"Director Yu, you flatter me."
"What are you talking about, asking for advice or not?"
Hearing Yu Zhenglai's polite manner, Meng's father quickly put down his enamel water cup, the bottom of which made a soft clinking sound as it hit the table. He looked at the forest farm director in front of him, who was wearing a military green jacket with worn-out cuffs, his gaze gentle yet earnest, his tone revealing the earnestness of an old-fashioned intellectual: "Director Yu, we came to Saihanba this time, firstly for Meng Yue and Xia Tian—the children have settled down here, and as parents, we have to come and see them to put our minds at ease."
He paused, turned to look at Xia Tian standing to the side, a smile appearing in his eyes, as if recalling something warm: "Secondly, it was also at my son-in-law's invitation. He called us a while ago and repeatedly mentioned the forest farm primary school. He said that most of the children are children of employees, and some are children from nearby villages. The school building has just been built, everything is good, except for the lack of teachers."
At this point, Meng's father straightened his back a bit and spoke more solemnly: "I spent almost the first half of my life in the classroom. From private schools during the Republic of China era to public schools after liberation, I taught in elementary schools and also worked in middle schools. I wouldn't say I was an expert in Chinese, arithmetic, history, and geography, but I had some experience. Later, the organization transferred me to the administrative field, which meant I temporarily left the teaching position."
He turned to the side and pointed to Meng's mother beside him, a knowing smile in his eyes: "My wife, needless to say, has been a primary school teacher since she was sixteen, almost thirty years now, always dedicated to education. A couple of years ago, the school asked her to step down, but she kept saying, 'The podium is empty, and so is my heart.' Before coming here this time, Xia Tian told us about the difficulties at the forest farm primary school. She tossed and turned all night, unable to sleep, constantly asking me, 'Do the children of Saihanba also long for someone to teach them to read?'"
Meng's mother nodded gently, her fingers unconsciously stroking the hem of her garment—a faded blue cotton jacket with a patch sewn around the cuffs, yet it was spotlessly clean. She looked at Yu Zhenglai, her voice as gentle as a spring breeze: "Director Yu, if the forestry station doesn't mind that we old folks are slow and clumsy, we'd be happy to stay and lend a hand. First, we'll get the curriculum organized, teach the children to read and do arithmetic, and then see if we can select a few young and quick-witted staff members to guide them in lesson preparation and teaching, gradually cultivating local teachers."
“Teaching and nurturing people is like planting saplings. Someone has to water and fertilize them for them to grow generation after generation, right?” Meng’s father continued, his tone as firm as the old pine trees of Saihanba. “We don’t ask for anything else. We just want to see our children able to study right at their doorstep, without having to travel dozens of miles over mountains to the county town.”
Upon hearing this, Yu Zhenglai jumped up from his wooden chair, the chair legs scraping loudly on the concrete floor. His dark face flushed crimson, his eyes gleaming with a mixture of surprise and delight. He rubbed his hands together in front of him, his voice trembling with excitement: "Comrade Meng, Madam Meng... this, this is truly wonderful!"
He took half a step forward, his tone full of urgency and gratitude: "To be honest with you both, I've been worried about the teachers since the forest farm primary school started construction in the spring. The workers have built the buildings, painted the doors and windows, and even the desks and chairs are brand new, hand-carved by the carpenters. But without teachers, the school is just an empty shell!"
“The children are so eager to go to school. A while ago, I went to the construction site to check on the progress, and I always saw a group of teenagers peering over the wall. Once, I overheard a little girl telling her friend, ‘If I could study here, I’d sweep the classroom every day.’” Yu Zhenglai wiped his face, his laughter tinged with emotion. “It’s a blessing for the children, and a blessing for the hundreds of employees at our forest farm, that you two are willing to stay!”
Xia Tian stood to the side, subtly raising an eyebrow. He recalled how Meng's father had frowned and said, "Let's see how things go first," on the long-distance bus yesterday, but now he spoke so earnestly, and his heart warmed—this old man, though he didn't say it, had already been planning how to help the children of the forest farm.
Mr. Meng waved his hand, gesturing for Yu Zheng to sit down: "Director Yu, there's no need to be so polite. It's all for the children. It doesn't matter where you teach. The wind in Saihanba is harsh, but the children's eyes are bright, just like the kids in the city." He paused, then added, "However, we have a small request. Could we go to the school now to take a look? We'll feel more at ease once we've assessed the situation."
"Of course, of course!" Yu Zhenglai nodded hurriedly, grabbed the military green jacket on the table and put it on, buttoning two buttons wrong. "I'll take you two there right away! The school isn't far from the office building, only a ten-minute walk. It'll be a good opportunity for you two to see what our new school building looks like."
Meng's parents smiled and agreed, and Xia Tian quickly followed. As soon as the four stepped out of the office building, the afternoon sun poured down, warming the dirt road in the forest farm. The willows along the roadside sprouted new green leaves, their long branches drooping in the air, rustling in the wind as if greeting people. Occasionally, forest farm workers would ride by on their old-fashioned bicycles, their bells jingling. Upon seeing Yu Zheng, they would greet him with a smile, calling him "Director," their eyes lingering curiously on Meng's parents before hurrying off—they had probably heard that two guests were coming today who might stay to teach.
“That row of red brick walls in front is the school,” Yu Zhenglai said, pointing to the distance. His tone was a mix of pride and embarrassment. “This school was just built this spring. The bricks were hauled from a brick kiln thirty miles away by the workers, the timber was felled from the mountain, and even the mortar for plastering the walls was carried by everyone in baskets. The walls were just painted a while ago, look how bright and vibrant the color is.”
As they got closer, they could see that the school building was indeed brand new. Traces of fresh cement were still visible in the cracks of the red brick walls, and the windows were covered with translucent hemp paper, which trembled slightly in the wind like butterfly wings. Several bundles of dried herbs sat on the windowsill, their leaves curled and emitting a faint fragrance. A few teenagers were peering through the windowsill, their heads huddled together like a flock of curious sparrows. Hearing footsteps, they scattered in a flash, hurriedly hiding behind the wall, only daring to peek out with their bright black eyes, curiously observing these unfamiliar visitors.
Meng's mother slowed her pace and pointed softly to the herbs on the windowsill, asking, "Director Yu, what are these...?"
"Oh, those were sent by villagers from nearby," Yu Zhenglai explained with a smile, pointing towards the distant village. "There are a lot of mosquitoes in the forest, especially after summer. The children run around outside and their legs are often covered in bites. The villagers said that these herbs, when dried and hung indoors, can repel mosquitoes, so they sent several bundles. The staff are reluctant to use them and have put them all in the classroom, saying that the children should be given priority."
As they spoke, Meng's father had already reached the classroom door. He gently pushed open the slightly ajar wooden door; the creaking sound of the hinges turning was particularly clear in the quiet afternoon. The classroom walls were newly painted; the dark gray paint still showed subtle brush marks, but it was spotless, without a single stain. A dozen or so brand-new desks and chairs stood against the wall, made of local hardwood. The tabletops were sanded smooth, even the edges were rounded, clearly to prevent the children from getting hurt. The blackboard, a wooden board painted with ink, hung on the front wall, its edges trimmed with thin wooden strips, looking exceptionally neat.
Mr. Meng reached out and touched the tabletop, feeling the wood grain on his fingertips and smelling a faint scent of pine. He then walked to the blackboard and gently tapped it with his knuckles; the board made a dull thud, sounding very sturdy. Turning back to Mrs. Meng, his eyes were filled with satisfaction: "Very good, clean and efficient. The children feel more at ease having classes here."