_, you have worked hard, write with comments.

Countless footprints were left on the podium; What is written on the blackboard is your endless expectation; What emerges in front of your eyes is your always busy figure; It is your words that reverberate in my ears. ...

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In every student's mind, teachers are sacred people. If the doctor is angels in white, then the teacher is the god of mortals. They try to teach us truth and knowledge. They get up earlier than others and go to bed later than others. Whenever I see a bright lamp in the distance at night, I feel that it is the hard work of the teacher, and that lamp seems to light up the road ahead for us.

Time flies, in a blink of an eye, I have been in the big family of junior high school for a year. During this year, I gained many precious friendships, understood many truths and forged deep feelings with teachers.

My head teacher, my English teacher, doesn't wear fashionable clothes or fancy cosmetics, but she has a beautiful heart like an angel. She always teaches us that people should be pragmatic, simple and learn to listen.

I remember a class meeting, because I got good grades in the exam and was complacent. I didn't care what the teacher said at the class meeting. My English teacher just winked at me, but I didn't care. I continue to play. My English teacher found that the seeds of conceit were sprouting in my heart, so she criticized me mercilessly at the class meeting, which was called a blow. But it was this stick that cut off the seeds of conceit in my heart.

Some people think that teachers are an easy job, and there are countless holidays in winter and summer vacations, but who has calculated how hard teachers work every day! We sit in class and always stand in class. After 45 minutes, my ass hurts, and the teacher's leg must hurt! Although the words written by teachers are not as many as our daily homework, who knows what is hidden behind each word? I had an experience. That time, the English teacher asked me to copy my homework, and I couldn't lift my arm if I copied less than 100 letters. Only then did I understand how hard the teacher worked. Our hands are written on the table. Where should the teacher's hand be put?

Looking back on what the teachers have done for us, I deeply feel the hard work of the teachers. They shoulder the responsibility of educating the next generation of the motherland and shoulder too many missions. As the ancients said, "Spring silkworms die, and night candles shed tears." Teacher, aren't you a hardworking silkworm and a selfless red candle? Always silently dedicate your youth and life.

On September 10 Teacher's Day, I sincerely said to all teachers: Teacher, you have worked hard. You have paid too much for us ignorant seedlings. What should we give you in return?