What is the experience of marrying a teacher as a wife?

She gets up on time every day, and our life is very rhythmic.

At the age of 22, I graduated from Teachers College and returned to my old alma mater to become a Chinese teacher in a rural school.

26-year-old, just assigned a little girl from the city, thin and small, short hair, wearing a pair of round-rimmed glasses, sitting opposite my desk. She graduated from secretarial major, but was assigned to be a Chinese teacher. As a serious Chinese graduate who has worked for four years, as a Chinese teacher, I certainly have the obligation to help her get on the right track.

Once, I passed by her classroom and saw the little girl standing on the platform, reading awkward classical Chinese like a mosquito. Before turning to write on the blackboard, the boys in the last row got up from their seats and ran to the podium to make faces.

I have a bad temper. I pushed the door and walked into the classroom, so I slipped the naughty boy to the end of the classroom and punished him for squatting against the wall. The little girl blushed with surprise and confusion.

Although the little girl has no experience in teaching students, she is naturally lively and intelligent. My family is poor, and she often brings me all kinds of canned food from home. One day, she suddenly came to my dormitory to wash my clothes. I was so startled that I quickly kicked her out and blushed.

Later, we began to watch movies, read books and write lesson plans together. I like singing to her, joking with her, taking her to meet my friends and listening to her hearty laughter. She is also willing to follow me back to my poor home, learn to cook with my sister, communicate with the hard-of-hearing elders, sit on the edge of the cornfield with me and imagine the future together.

At the age of 27, I married her in my hometown.

A few years later, I bid farewell to my teaching post and became a civil servant, but she still stuck to her teaching post, becoming more and more experienced and dedicated day by day.

When my daughter was four or five years old, she began to be a class teacher. She has a strong sense of responsibility, hands-on in every home visit, and is particularly concerned about students' grades. At that time, she and I were transferred to the city and bought a building with a loan. Our home is far from her school, one in the east and the other in the west. She goes out early and comes back late every day, completely ignoring the housework at home.

In those years, as a big man, I learned to bathe my daughter, braid her hair and cook for her. I once took my daughter to buy clothes, because the clothes and shoes I picked were all in the style of a little boy. The daughter cried all the way home and insisted that her mother take her to buy it.

Daily trivialities, coupled with dissatisfaction at work, finally broke out on a very ordinary night. I drank a lot of wine, opened the door, smashed the coffee table at home and told her to go back to her family.

My daughter cried loudly and wanted to go with her mother. I forced my daughter to stay, hugged her and comforted her softly in the empty room. My daughter asked me in a tearful voice, "Who will tell me a story after my mother left?" I said, "Dad can, Dad can."

How can I let her go? I just can't let go of my man's self-esteem and grievances soaked in daily necessities.

Under the persuasion of her parents-in-law, the epidemic finally subsided.

However, her dedication to work has not diminished.

Daughter from primary school to high school, she hardly managed her daughter's study. When she does her best for the students in the class, her daughter often eats cold meals at home alone. People always tell their daughters, "Your mother is a teacher. No wonder you study well! " My daughter always responds very grievance: "She, she didn't care about my study!" " "

Because of her work, we often quarrel, and our daughter is used to such a life. In the year when her daughter was admitted to the university, she finally helped her daughter fill in a volunteer and sent her to study thousands of miles away.

After I was over 500, my temper gradually eased a little. Because she is old, she no longer works as a class teacher, and her life is much more leisurely. We also started a long-lost time for two people.

I like cycling, so I often pick her up at the school gate after work and go home with her. I am also used to asking friends for help when they encounter problems with their children's study or further education, and she always patiently helps friends to answer them.

Just when everything seemed to be in peace, I had a serious illness.

During this year of illness, she almost never went to school again and stayed by my side day and night. She said that if she lost her job, she could find another one, and her husband only had one job in his life.

She showed me around major hospitals and knew my illness like the back of her hand. However, her condition deteriorated day by day, making her old overnight. She said she wouldn't give up any hope. She told me that she didn't give up, and I must not give up.

However, contrary to expectations, I don't seem to be so resistant. After a year of chemotherapy, I became weaker and weaker, too weak to face myself in the mirror.

I told her and her daughter that life would be better in the future. If she meets a good man, she should seize the opportunity. She firmly told me that in this world, she would never meet anyone better than me. Even if there is, she will still be buried with me at the end of her life.

I know her life will not be easy after I leave. My daughter hasn't graduated and isn't married. Her small body has to shoulder the heavy responsibility of the whole family. I regret and regret, but there is nothing I can do. The only thing I can do is to bless and then bless.

A few days after I left, she worked part-time as a teacher and sold insurance in a friend's company. In half a year, she changed from an ordinary salesman to a director. A person who is about to retire.

Even harder than the young people of that year. The daughter said that she did nothing, only she knew clearly in her heart that she didn't care about the motives of other people's alternative vision, but just wanted to give her a future like others' home.

On Teachers Day, her students wrote a poem for her.

Her annual leave is basically arranged in summer vacation, because I usually don't have much time to travel. But he is still willing to go out to play, because I did all the raiders. Occasionally tell him stories about scenic spots, and he says it's good. But refused me to teach him to recite poems.