My teacher

/kloc-graduated from junior high school at the age of 0/7 and became a worker. On the first day of entering the factory, Master Bian, the head of the maintenance team, took me to see an old master in the blue overalls issued by the factory, and the old master became my master. My master is a six-level mechanic, surnamed Pan, from Yongjia, Wenzhou. I didn't know anything about Wenzhou people at that time. Only by listening to the master chatting with fellow villagers did I know that Wenzhou dialect is really difficult to understand. My host is about 50 years old, of medium build, relatively fat and not very talkative. I remember when I first met him, I called him Master Pan, but he didn't correct me. He smiled shyly and accepted me. I have been his apprentice for three years, and what I feel most is his tolerance. Unlike some masters who always force his disciples to practice, I like reading. As long as there is nothing wrong with the machine tool at work, all members of the maintenance team can wait and chat in the room. At this time, I often take out my books to read. My master won't interfere with me just because I don't read technical books. In my recent seven years of work, besides hiding in the dormitory after work, I can also read some books, many of which are read during working hours. Of course, I have been working for seven years and have been in a state of suspension for at least one year. Since 1975, I have been arrested by the workshop, responsible for the production and posting of blackboard newspapers and large slogans inside and outside the workshop. However, I can teach myself when I work normally, and the generosity of my master has given me great convenience.

I seldom communicate with my host in language. Perhaps his Wenzhou dialect hindered our communication, but I feel that his personality and my stuttering mainly brought me a bad speech. I work with him or sit in the workshop when I am free. If it's just the two of us, there's basically nothing to say I sometimes envy the young workmates who come into the factory with me. They always have a good relationship with their hosts. Some are as close as father and son, and some are as close as brothers. Only my master and I are lukewarm. When we meet at work every day, I call "Master" and he nods, even if we say hello. At that time, we all lived in dormitories and had little communication in life. I am naturally unwilling to pay attention to people who are taller than me, including leaders, and of course I am not used to paying attention to my master. I often see him drinking and chatting with a general worker, Master Zhao, after work, while I only associate with my peers and several technical school students. Therefore, I still don't know much about his family background. I only heard that my Jenny and her children are far away in Yongjia, Wenzhou. It turns out that Jenny's family are all in Hangzhou. During the difficult period of the country in the 1960s, in order to relieve the pressure on the city, some rural people or their families were mobilized to return home, and his wife and children were also sent back to their hometown. I don't know the specific situation, but now that I think about it, it proves that my host is really an honest man and has no social relations. I can only watch my wife and children return to China. He has family leave every year and goes back to his hometown to reunite with his wife and children. However, when the traffic was very backward, Hangzhou could only take a long-distance bus to Yongjia. Tickets are very tight as soon as the Spring Festival arrives. Once, it seemed to be the end of 1974. I heard that he couldn't buy a ticket home, so I took my three best brothers in the workshop and stood in line at the lakeside ticket office all night to help him buy a long-distance ticket. This is probably the sweetest thing I have ever done for my host.

1976, my master retired. He lives in a small house in Qingbomen, but I don't know why he doesn't go back to his hometown. I went to see him once. Later, I took the first college entrance examination. After the physical examination, Hangyang held a * * * League Congress. I became a member of the Youth League Committee, responsible for propaganda work, and was seconded to the Youth League Office by the Youth League Committee of the factory. My job is to edit a mimeographed tabloid and change two long blackboard newspapers in front of the factory canteen every two weeks. The name of the tabloid is Hangyang Group News. Besides soliciting contributions, I have written many articles myself. After I assembled the manuscript, I carved it on wax paper. I asked a little brother in my workshop for help. The two of us have written more than ten groups of news. During this period of work, I learned to engrave the imitation song style on wax paper and learned the mimeograph technology. Unfortunately, this technology did not play a role in my later work. In the 1980s, printing rooms were set up everywhere, and computer typing and printing quickly replaced wax paper engraving and mimeograph.

Once, I walked from the canteen to the office after lunch, probably because I was a little late for a task and no one had eaten in the canteen. Walking to the door, the fat aunt who cooked stopped me. She introduced herself. She is my master's cousin. I have often eaten her cooking since I entered the factory. I didn't expect her to be related to my master. She told me quickly that my teacher asked her to introduce me to someone before she retired. I was shocked. I didn't expect the master to communicate with me in this respect, but he was planning for me in his heart. Listen to the master's cousin continue to say, in the factory, it is better to learn technology, writing articles on the blackboard is not serious, it is better not to do it. Be a good worker and I will help you find a beautiful wife. I know in my heart that my master must have expressed such an idea when chatting with her. I stared stupidly at the fat aunt's pursed mouth. I don't know how to respond to her. I thanked her quickly and fled back to the office with a red face. A young man under the age of 24, although he has a desire for love in his heart, is still ashamed to discuss this topic with others. But I really feel the kindness of my master.

Master died at the beginning of this century, which was told by a good brother in my workshop, but the farewell party had already been held. I complained why he didn't inform me at that time, but I really regretted it. When I got married, I only took my wife to see him, because my wife worked in her hometown and we didn't have our own house in Hangzhou. I finished college and joined the government, and then I was admitted to graduate school two years later, and then I was assigned a job. Getting married, having children, and then changing wives seems endless. When he is stable, he is not interested in visiting him again. Over time, I always thought the people I knew were still there. In a blink of an eye, the first master in my life has died. Now that I have retired for many years, I think of Master and pin my thoughts on the above words.