I miss my classmates. I miss campus. I want to talk about it. It is longer.

One day many years ago, when you were sitting in a daze in class, the teacher's voice drifted farther and farther. At that time, you thought the 2008 Olympic Games was incredible, and you didn't know where you were. A flock of sparrows flew over the tree outside the window and chalk hit your head. The teacher asked you to stand and listen to the class, and the students were whispering. The leaves slipped out of the window and no one noticed the time.

That year, we were all in the third grade, and we liked to write our youth vows on the table, write the name of Ta in our hearts on the wall, pass baskets of teeth by mobile phone in class, eat together under the table in class, plug in headphones to listen to songs when walking, read fashion star magazines with a group of people, stand on the balcony and watch men and women walking downstairs and make comments. I like a group of friends to get together and vent the helplessness of youth, and imitate the teacher's "classic lines" after class. That year, we were all in Grade Three, used to get up at six in the morning, used to go to school before seven in the morning, used to ring the doorbell, then rushed to the classroom from the toilet and asked in a low voice: What class is this? I'm used to doing things that have nothing to do with learning in class, and I have to always be wary of the head teacher who appears at the back door window. At the same time, everyone is as skilled as conditioned reflex, pushing mobile phones and novels, going straight, writing with pens in fake mode, looking at the blackboard carefully, wondering if the class teacher has left? That year, we were all in grade three, accustomed to talking at the same table, thinking about how to go out to play at night, accustomed to listening to you sing to me, afraid of being transferred to the horizon, accustomed to listening to you show off, and in a blink of an eye, we left grade three, all our habits became so unaccustomed. We thought our youth was released at the end of grade three, and we thought we had ushered in another spring of life, but we often thought of those days in grade three. We want to go back to the classroom in the third grade to see our sweat stains. We want to go back to the classroom in the third grade to see the blackboard full of homework. We want to go back to the classroom in the third grade to see what we wrote on the table. I want to go back and look at the countdown board on our back wall. I want to go back to the junior high school classroom to listen to whether the youth vows under the blackboard are lingering. I want to meet my friends who walked through Black June together. I want to meet you who laughed and laughed with me in class. I want to see the campus full of laughter ... Now I waste my youth at school, and when I think back to the days of junior high school, I always feel like crying. The lost junior high school years will always be the best memories of our youth. Junior high school is inevitable. What is bitter is not the experience of living in those years, but that I no longer have that kind of life. My former classmates and teachers have faded away, leaving only that imperfect memory ... the memory of grade three, the memory of my life, the once-in-a-lifetime grade three, ... I really miss it! 、

Actually, I don't hate school at all Most of the people I care about met at school. The best people I met were also seen at school, and the feeling of being tempted was also realized at school. The happiest days are also spent at school. I like this school very much. What I hate is that those youthful years that should be pursuing what I love are buried in order to cope with an exam that requires three years of hard work.

At that time, you always complained that the days passed too slowly, and the study was too tired and boring. Finally, the senior high school entrance examination is over. You think you have escaped from hell, and you think you are free. Now that you are sitting alone in a high school classroom or in a strange city, you finally find that the countdown to the senior high school entrance examination is heaven. You regret it. You miss it more. You want to go back, but it's impossible. It is out of the question.