Prose on the way to school

As we walk down to the entrance of the village, there are ponds and vegetable beds on one side, and criss-crossing rice fields on the other. The smooth ridge road in the middle was our way to school in the 1970s.

In early summer, the lotus leaves in Tiantian are our coolest sun hats. Or we can wrap a bag of well water in the lotus leaves, then poke a small hole with our fingers, drink while walking, and get wet on our heads while walking. It feels extremely cool on the skin and face. The moths flying suddenly in the rice fields, the dragonflies hovering, and the rice ears turning up layers of waves in the wind are so common sights.

On the way to school, we couldn’t pick the lotus seeds in the lotus pond. The old man guarding the pond was too powerful. What made us miss the most was the vegetable border in spring and summer.

Purple eggplants and green peppers do not attract our attention. At most, we are just curious to count the upward peppers and how many peppers grow out of one paw. Chives and amaranth were crowded in a corner of the vegetable patch, and we turned a blind eye. The vines of loofah and cucumber scrambled to climb up the bamboo branches, showing off their yellow flowers to passers-by. The vines of pumpkin and winter melon snaked up to the supports made of dead branches, while the winter melons and pumpkins hid shyly on the trellises. Down. What we covet is, of course, cucumbers. When I saw a place with cucumbers, my legs were slowly moving forward, but my eyes were searching among the cucumber vines. The cucumbers were still exposed in the vines, covered with a thin layer of plush, vaguely tempting passers-by to salivate. . We look around and quickly pick the cucumbers if no owner is present. Some vegetable fields had cantaloupes planted in the cracks of peppers. We quickly pried open the vine leaves, picked one and ran away. Occasionally, when the owner discovers it, the most he can say is: "Hey, don't go too far!" which means "I'll catch up!" In fact, it's a kind reminder: you greedy people, if you pick something, leave quickly.

Walking through the vegetable patch, we excitedly took out the fruits of victory from our pockets and schoolbags, shared them with each other, laughed and jumped all the way to school.

When school is over in the afternoon, time is even more free.

On the way home, we walked slowly, talking about interesting things in the class, or imitating the teacher's appearance in class that day, trying our best to exaggerate and vilify the teacher as much as we could. Talking, playing, running, or jumping on one leg, or jumping and humming step by step, the pony tail rises and falls with the rhythm, and the schoolbag swings around the waist.

On the roadside, I saw a kind of grass we call "children's grass". I pulled it off, removed the roots and pinched off the top. I silently recited the name of a pregnant woman in the village, and then held it religiously. The two of them tore apart the grass strips slowly and carefully with their hands at the same time. When a square appears at the intersection between the two, we will think that the pregnant woman will give birth to a girl. If it becomes a straight line, we will They all shouted in surprise: "Boy!" Of course, we don't remember whether the pregnant women in the village later gave birth to children as predicted by tearing apart the straw, and we don't seem to have verified it.

Not far from the school, there is another pond, euphemistically called "Quantang". Next to the pond is a well, with a cement platform and dock, which is spacious and flat. When it's hot and thirsty, I grab a bucket of water from the well, hold it in my hands, and drink it. Then I pick up the rubble, bend down, lunge, and throw it out. The rubble floats on the water, creating ripples in circles. , this game is like "a dragonfly glancing at the water". We compete to see whoever creates the most ripples will be the winner. At that time, they admired me the most for being a "left-hander". I played the game of "dragonfly on water" with my left hand. The rubble thrown out was powerful and smooth, and the ripples formed, circle by circle, all the way to the center of the pond. The water is rippling, and our hearts are blooming with joy.

Occasionally pick a bunch of wild chrysanthemums, tie them into a garland, wear them on your head, sing children's songs, and return home with a bang. Throw away your schoolbag and go hunting pigweed together.

At that time, we liked to travel in groups. When school is over, some of their fellow teachers will wait outside the classroom, or stick their heads in the window, looking longingly at the gushing teacher, hoping that he will end his lecture quickly. What's more, the teacher was giving a lecture in the classroom, and his peers rushed into the teacher and stood behind him.

I seemed to be the king of children at that time. When the teacher was dragging the class, there were several "female King Kongs" standing next to me like bodyguards. The teacher didn't chase them away, he was still talking, and there was the sound of tidying up under the podium.

At that time, we didn’t know the word “lonely”, because we all acted in a group, were unrestrained and naughty, picked and eaten in secret, and played games with quick eyes and hands. We were only happy because of the participation of our companions. Happiness comes from having companions to share with. Going to school together, going home together, chopping firewood together, and hunting pigweed together are all things that are natural and natural.

Even if we quarrel, we will not hold grudges overnight, and will always start talking again inadvertently; or we can reconcile in the most special way, pulling a handful of dogtail grass, making it look like a puppy, and holding it in our hands , barking "woof" in his mouth, using the puppy to tickle, competing to see whose puppy is more itchy. Between scratching and avoiding, the quarrel has been resolved.

The way to school at that time was a special scenery: unrestrained yet caring for each other, innocent yet consciously responsible.

But now, with the influx of a large number of rural people into cities and towns, villages are somewhat lonely, many old houses have been idle, and the number of primary school students in rural areas has also been decreasing. There used to be one school in one village, but it became one school in several villages, and it was called a joint primary school. On our way to school back then, we were surrounded by barren vegetable beds and weed-covered field paths. The road was long but there were few people, the grass was deep and the road was narrow. There were only a few figures and overgrown weeds. It was no longer as lively as it was before.

The loud slogan "No matter how poor you are, you can't afford education, and no matter how hard it is, you can't teach your children" can be faintly discerned on the dusty walls. Most of those elegant but somewhat decadent school buildings are idle. Being left out, like a palace maid who has fallen out of favor, hiding alone in a quiet corner with no one to care about her. The honking of cars in the distance only adds to the loneliness of the palace maids.

Those primary school students who did not follow their migrant parents to the city and stayed at home basically live in school now. Students living on campus invariably go home on Wednesday afternoons, so the rural school bus came into being. Drivers regularly wait at the gates of various schools to collect money and get on the bus. The school bus kicks up bursts of dust and runs on the rural roads. The children return home, eat a delicious meal cooked by their grandma, and then bring enough food and vegetables for the next few days. On Thursday morning, they sleepily get on the bus back to school.

On the way to school, there is more dust kicked up by motorcycles, more honking of passing cars, less childhood games, less joyous songs of teenagers, and less a figure called "Fa Xiao". , even less of a scream deep in my heart.

I remember that we were watching the white clouds on the way to school. He said it was a flock of sheep walking towards the grassland, and I said it was a horse galloping to meet the generals. As we talked, My childhood mood also started to wander, looking into the distance, imagining that the unknown world at the end of the distant mountains might be the city we longed for. I remember that on the way to school, we saw wild geese flying over our heads in a "herringbone" formation. He looked up happily. He said that wild geese are never alone. I said how much I longed to be like the wild geese, with a pair of pairs. Flying wings, flying over thousands of mountains and rivers. At that time, in our young minds, there was always a desire, a curiosity, a yearning, sprouting in the distance deep in the white clouds, in the sky where birds flew by, there were always some interesting things, some naughtiness, some sweetness, share them In each other's pure hearts.

And now, will those left-behind children in the countryside put their thoughts on the white clouds and geese like we did back then? Are you yearning for the unknown distance deep in the white clouds? Are you praying for the flying geese to send messages to your parents who are working far away?

When I returned to my hometown again, looking at the weedy roads to school and the deserted school buildings, I was thinking: I wish weeds would only grow on the roads and not on the young trees. In the soul; I hope that it is only the school building that is deserted, not dreams.