Essay about the growth of youth

Our youthful dreams and the great Chinese dream are soaring in the blue sea and sky! The following is an essay about the growth of youth that I brought to you. You are welcome to read and refer to it. Let’s take a look together!

Essay on the Growth of Youth 1

Mom, I used to be a A very beautiful girl. She has many beautiful clothes. She wears beautiful clothes in the park, just like a fairy. She is so beautiful both from the front and the back.

My mother has been fond of photography since she was very young. Her works always win awards. The reason why they are always unique is that her works are not only beautiful, but also very creative. If you just follow the trend without any intention, you won't like the works after looking at them. Each of my mother's works has a different meaning and many stories. The one that impressed me the most was an old cow grazing on the grass with a group of calves. The calves were very naughty and were still there. Rolling in the grass. My father told me about the photo experience. At that time, my mother was taking pictures behind a big tree. In order to get a good photo closer, my mother wanted to get closer to the cows. As a result, the old cow saw it, its eyes were full of anger, and it rushed over. The mother turned around and ran away, but the cow chased her faster. In the end, the clever father saved her. I think this is the same maternal love between cows and humans. Like the sea!

As time passes, time takes away my mother’s youth, and there are wrinkles in the corners of her eyes when she smiles, but in my heart, she will always be the mother with youth.

Essay on the Growth of Youth 2

When I saw the test questions, I fell into deep thought. What is youth? Does it mean the time I wasted, or the time I can never look back on? Is it 2018 that has passed and will never come back again, or is it the past that you can never go back to when you grow up? And what is there in my youth? There is laughter floating in my heart, there is hesitation that I want to do but don’t dare to do, there is an indescribable bitterness or... I don’t understand any of these, but I know that there is love in my youth.

There is delicate maternal love in my youth, like a winding stream, with a long history and lingering in my heart. She warned me: You only have one youth, and only by hard work can you spread your wings and fly high; only by hard work can you change your destiny; only by hard work can you not regret. She worked hard to earn money for me. In order to provide me with a better environment to study, she saved her beauty and youth so that I could have a better youth. I know that all the efforts she put in and the grievances she endured when I contradicted her were just for a better future for me. However, she grew old slowly in contentment...

In my youth, there was the love of classmates and teachers. It was like the radiant sunshine, giving me warmth. The teacher's love is meticulous. A gentle nod and her beautiful handwriting can give me an inexplicable sense of accomplishment. The teacher's comments made me read it over and over again, and I was filled with joy every time. The love of classmates is very simple and pure: a mouthful of sweet milk and a piece of crispy and delicious snacks are full of love in my opinion. A genuine smile and an unabashed gesture are also love. Although it is insignificant, it can make me feel happy and happy, and I can be considered contented.

My youth is a petite flower in bud, and my mother is the fertile soil that gave birth to my life, my dreams, and gave me deep love; teachers and students Love is like sunshine. Although it is white and hard to detect, it can always set up a brilliant rainbow after heavy rain. They are my extremely trusting backing, making me strong and brave. My youth is filled with happiness, and it all comes from love.

Essay on the Growth of Youth 3

Early morning.

The hollow curtains started to "swipe", and the sunlight that was originally just dots jumping on the floor was suddenly liberated, running into the room playfully, jumping on the tip of the pen.

I put down the pen in my hand, looked out the window at the blue mountains, and felt the kiss of the sun. My thoughts flashed to two years ago, and the voice of youth murmured in my ears.

When I first entered school, I felt mysterious and full of longing for junior high school life. At that time, I still had ear-length hair. The school has just built a plastic track. There didn't seem to be that many flowers on campus. I only remember a bunch of purple wisterias smiling brightly. At that time, the courses were few and very simple, and I had a solid foundation, so I easily got good grades. Occasionally I fall behind, but I stay up a few nights before the exam and win easily. At that time, I was just a teenager in my classmate. I was young and frivolous. I seemed not afraid of anything. Two dimples, one deep and one shallow, often appeared on my cheeks...

When I was in the second grade of junior high school, I seemed to be dazzled by victory. I go home from school and play a lot before I start writing my homework. Sometimes I even doodle on the scratch paper while writing. In class, sometimes my thoughts are like a wild horse running wild, but I let it run wild. That's right, I didn't understand that time would fly so fast. I thought that the tense life of the third grade of junior high school was still far away. I thought that I could still achieve good results without paying anything like the first grade of junior high school.

But life is not like this. It made my grades plummet and made a big joke on me!

The process of falling from the top of the grade to the top of the 20th grade was something I had never imagined before. Gradually, I chose to escape. I began to get tired of quadratic functions that could not be solved. I began to hate the changes in passive words in English. I no longer studied whether objects are subject to balancing forces. I no longer memorized Marxism-Leninism that made my mind dull...

Now I am in the third grade of junior high school. I don’t have extra time to caress the dusty extracurricular books on the bookshelf. Now, my hair is long enough to be tied into a ponytail. We moved into the teaching building where countless graduates were sent away. Our school uniform has become the oldest style on campus. In the smokeless war in the third grade of junior high school, I became anxious. I wanted to listen carefully, complete my homework seriously, and take the initiative to memorize the knowledge points of various subjects. However, I found that I could not overcome the laziness I had developed for a long time. I started to feel anxious and sleepless. The dimples no longer appear on my cheeks, but the areas under my eyes are getting darker. I would often stay up until midnight, only to be drowsy the next day.

I realize that I have wasted my youth. If I could, how I wish I could go back to two years ago, working hard under the light, distracted by my thoughts in class, and saying to me who was frowning and meditating: "You will be really good in two years. Keep working hard." Work hard!"

The sun fell on the pile of homework on the desk. "Every day without dancing is a failure of life." I realize that youth is slipping away. And I clearly heard her say to me: "You will be really good in four years. Your youth will never end. Try your best to fight again!"

About Youth Growth Composition 4

The edge of a sword comes from sharpening, and the fragrance of plum blossoms comes from the bitter cold.

——Inscription

Youth, how beautiful. Growth is like a seed breaking out of the ground in the severe cold of youth that has not faded away, ignorant and full of hope, absorbing nutrients from the constant blows of wind and rain - this is the melody of my youth.

Stepping into the door of middle school with an immature heart is what every freshman in junior high school has experienced. In the playful and naughty mood of elementary school, they walked into the classroom indifferently. With their own ideals, they go to a distant place. And I am one of them.

At that time, I didn’t understand what learning was or what ideal was. An ideal might be a game console but it might be dispensable. But in this youthful and exciting campus, the "new ideas" of striving for self-improvement and longing for dreams are everywhere. The "feudal forces" in my mind began to collapse, and the process of reform and opening up began.

I caressed the books in the first year of junior high school, shuttled and flew through the words, and those nouns, articles, and characters that I had never heard of in elementary school seemed to be a sharp attack, knocking on the door of my mind, and started the "cultural blending" ". For me, these new things are exciting and overwhelming.

The monthly exams, mid-term exams and even a series of exams since then, the "sound, light and heat" of physics combined with the geometry of mathematics caught me off guard, and then the "sound, light and heat" of physics, followed by history again and again. "Treaty" and "war" brought me to the end of my rope like the feudal monarch in the Forbidden City.

Until a class meeting with the theme of "Growth and Ideals", I saw classmates come on stage one after another to talk about their ideals and continuous growth process, but I could only feel ashamed in the audience. The repeated applause made me extremely ashamed, and this also planted a seed in my heart.

That night, I made up my mind to water my dreams with sweat and tears.

Then, there are the back figures under the dim table lamp late at night.

I am not the kind of person who says "I am born with talents that will be useful", but I am not willing to live in the most wonderful moments without a trace of memory, scars of struggle, and tears of success or failure.

Lying on the bed again and again, making progress in exams again and again, are the results of the seedlings of dreams being baptized with sweat, and they have also enabled me to usher in unforgettable growth time after time, and my heart has become stronger.

"Fireworks will bloom in the dark night, water flowers will bloom in rainy days, and winter will be reluctant to leave when there are too many snowflakes" - this is a portrayal of youth.

In this troubled time of examination questions, I used hard work as armor and tears as sword. I passed the exams again and again, and was constantly bruised, so that the seedlings of growth could bloom beautifully and without regrets in youth. fragrance.

I will continue to struggle and grow unremittingly, exchange the medals of tears and sweat for the nourishment of youth, and wish to grow in this melody of youth without end.

Essay on the Growth of Youth 5

The stars are bright and the spring water is trickling. Looking back at the road ahead, nothing seems to have changed. The dignity I held tightly in my hands has long since disappeared. It is empty. I have nothing.

How many people in this world live in confusion like puppets, and how many people know what they want. In spring, look at the newly sprouted buds, a touch of green, and infinite vitality. I had a very beautiful dream, now is it time to wake up and end it. Hey! It seems that I have forgotten that I am just an inconspicuous little flower on the roadside, nothing more...

The maple leaf path is filled with the breath of endless spring. I am like a vine climbing on the fence. Swaying in the wind, interpreting youth with blooming buds. Counting how many days and nights, how many rounds of wind and rain. Once you get used to it, see through it, and want to give up, just let everything be covered by the air and be a memory.

It is bright outside the window, but the beautiful scenery is not eternal, let alone last forever. Like a joke, it stirred up a storm in the city, but in the end it was washed away by time without leaving a trace of its smell. Loneliness is a flower that blooms deep in the soul, rooted in the soil of loneliness, self-generated and self-beautiful. The beauty of the flowers when they bloom, and the desolation of the flowers when they wither, are slowly forgotten in the sea of ????hearts that flow through.

After six years, we are finally separated. The quiet lake, the faint longing, and the inseparable feelings are still there. The sadness is submerged in the pink and green willows. I gently break a branch of the weeping willow by the river and whisper about the scattered thoughts. The long and lingering sound of the flute in April is lost in the open fields.

Mint-like melancholy quietly filled my heart, and my nostalgia for yesterday was a little sentimental. Today's fantasy is a bit sad. Will the encounter tomorrow be wonderful? The April wind blows us away and welcomes a new beginning.

I can’t take away a single plant or tree, I just want to remember you, that’s enough!