[Urgent] Find an inspirational story of senior three! ! ! !

This is an article that inspires me in senior three.

Stubborn flowers

Text/Fudan occupation

I don't know how to write it. To be exact, I don't know what words to use to string together the feelings of this year completely, so that they can hang there like gorgeous crystals without losing their original flavor for you to share and understand.

When I wrote my first word in this hot August, I suddenly noticed that there were many unknown flowers outside the window, red, yellow, pink, white, orange and blue, colorful and beautiful everywhere. God, when did these flowers come out? This momentum should not last only a few days.

I don't know whether these flowers bloom so beautifully this year. If so, I think I should thank them. I can smell a lot of sweet smells in the air, and suddenly a beautiful sentence pops up: flowers are invincible!

Flowers bloom undefeated.

Flowers are unbeaten! I think I can finally calm down and tell you many stories that happened this year. I think no matter what happens in the future, I will never forget every bit of this year.

A week before the start of senior three, there will be a parent-teacher meeting.

It was a very serious parent-teacher conference, and no one was absent or even late. The head teacher mobilized almost all parents' emotions at that meeting. Needless to say, the importance of senior three, the so-called "success is also senior three, failure is also senior three", no matter how brilliant the children in the past, no matter how failed. The head teacher, a thin little girl, leaned against the podium and talked for two hours before we believed that anything could happen, and miracles or bad consequences would appear dramatically in this year's BLACKPINK.

In order to let each student know clearly his ranking position in the class, grade, even in the whole region and the whole city, the school has carefully made a ranking table for senior one and senior two subjects. Now that I think about it, I have to admire the details of that watch. The total score, standard score and ranking of each course are compared with the average score in the grade, and there is even a well-designed score curve, and finally there is a concrete analysis of the comprehensive ranking. Squeezing a piece of paper is really painstaking.

My father came back from school with a gloomy face, and the situation was as pessimistic as I expected: the grade ranked 290. A terrible situation.

"There is hope. As the teacher said, anything is possible. " Father said that he believed in me, but I don't know whether I should believe in myself again. However, there is no way out. We are children crossing the river and can't turn back.

I can only be honest with my parents, teachers and, most importantly, myself if I chase after them.

The long preparation period of eleven years has finally arrived, and it is time to start fighting and fight hard. I must bid farewell to my rambling and irresponsible past.

I rushed to the battle when I had completely lost, but the battle had already started and I couldn't escape.

Senior three is really different.

For senior three, writing articles is definitely a luxury and a waste. I have to admire the powerful motivation of senior three. There are more and more reminders on my desk. I picked up a pen and manuscript paper and said goodbye to them resolutely. The silver-white pen with beautiful dragon pattern is too heavy for me to pick up, so I decided to give it up.

At the beginning of senior three, almost everyone was eager to try, and everyone was full of energy, so Fudan Jiaotong University could not make progress. I posted a huge slogan "Go to Fudan" on the bedside, and shouted several times every morning before going to bed to increase my confidence. All dreams are abstracted into sacred institutions of higher learning under the pressure of college entrance examination. At that time, as soon as I heard all the news about Fudan, I was excited and excited, as if everything was covered by the dazzling aura of that school.

I never thought about the huge gap between the score of 290 and Fudan, and the students around me didn't seem to realize the horror of crossing the single-plank bridge with thousands of troops. We cling to our dreams, and Sister Xianglin shouts "I want XXX". That kind of psychology and the explosive tension caused by it can't be understood by people without senior three experience.

The first real competition of senior three is coming.

Mid-term exam of the first semester. An exam that we thought was well prepared but was badly killed.

Our ranking has changed dramatically as the teacher expected. Many unknown students in the class are like dark horses, which makes everyone stunned at once. Many people began to become practical between ups and downs. The gate of Peking University is really artistic, but not everyone can feel elegant there. The embarrassment of less porridge and more monks makes every senior three student feel embarrassed in the face of the huge gap between reality and dreams.

I am one of the few people who still have illusions. Please note that I used the word "fantasy", which was something that seemed absolutely impossible at that time. It stands to reason that I, who is unwilling to wander between 200 and 300 in my first and second year of high school, has started 1/4 in my third year of high school, but I still maintain a considerable momentum. I should not have any illusions about Fudan, a top university in China. But God knows how I had such revolutionary optimism. I stubbornly hold the idea of "making progress by 50 every time I take the exam", which is silly and complacent.

Later facts also proved that it was because of my scary optimism that I had the motivation to persist and let the absolutely impossible things slowly flash the dawn of hope step by step.

The following days began to become more and more dull, simpler, single and repetitive.

Every morning, I rush breathlessly into the crowded classroom, put on my schoolbag, do exercises and start calculating. Those similar but not quite the same days have now been abstracted into draft paper written in dense numbers forever, formulas and exercises that can't be wiped clean on the blackboard, teachers' heartfelt reminders and chalk scraps floating in the air forever.

In this simple environment, students' humorous cells are trained to be extremely acute. Once any little thing is caught, it is immediately exaggerated, then expanded, and then attracts all the sensations. A writer's article about "bullshit/bullshit/fart dog" actually attracted the whole class to clap their tables and laugh, hit the tables and beat their legs. The teacher said that this is a manifestation of senior three syndrome, because our life is too simple, so anything that can cause ripples will bring us immeasurable happiness.

The short time after two classes every Friday afternoon is designated as "game day" by us, and we rack our brains to bring things to school desperately. There is a children's game of "playing with coins", which is especially popular with us. Take some dimes and one-dollar coins on the table and build a goal with some erasers. Regardless of boys and girls, they are all lying on the table, shouting and laughing, having a good time. I don't understand myself. We have already held a bar mitzvah. How can we be so easily satisfied and hysterical?

"Have fun when you should play, and study hard when you should study." This is the irrefutable truth that our senior three students believe in.

The number on the countdown board of the college entrance examination is getting smaller and smaller, and we have no time. The teacher shouted to us, "Do what you should do."

Then one day, I don't know who inserted a bunch of fresh lilies, pink perfume lilies in the classroom. Throughout the autumn, the classroom is always haunted by the fragrance of lilies. We are counting day after day in the faint sweetness. No one pays attention to the natural lily, but it and its taste are deeply branded in everyone's heart.

I don't know what words to use to accurately express my feelings at that stage. It may be "down to earth". I still shout "Kill Fudan" when I get up early and go to bed late every day, but I won't say "Fudan" again and again. Everyone carefully hides their dreams in their hearts and works hard in their own way. Progress and honor are illusory things that we can't grasp. Only this day is the real day that we can see and hold. I can see that my classmates and myself are really working hard day by day in this simplicity, and my grades are steadily rising and progressing bit by bit in this sense of sureness. This feeling, now that I think about it, is really good.

Compared with the calm of the first semester, the days of the second semester of senior three have changed a lot, adding a lot of restlessness and anxiety.

The first round of combing knowledge and the second round of systematically mastering comprehensive problems have come to an end, and the third round of intense exams and bombing tactics have followed.

It was an indescribable time.

The curriculum was changed to the terrible form of "self-study+1+ 1 beyond the number of languages". Teachers usually don't help us summarize anything in class, but just distribute stacks of simulated test papers of various subjects for classroom testing. I don't know why the teacher has so many papers. We have to do, analyze and recheck every kind of paper in each district. There are all kinds of unified examination papers in other cities and the whole country, and even strange questions in unknown study newspapers and periodicals are collected by teachers for us to do.

One class has a quiz, two classes have a big exam together, and the whole grade has a unified mock exam. All papers should be graded, and students should take turns grading quizzes that the teacher didn't have time to grade. Scores have therefore become the most exciting and worthless thing in this hot and cold season of alternating winter and spring.

This is a powerful stimulus.

Recite n words every day, do n test papers every day, and complete n revisions every day.

The timetable is so thick that it is crossed out with colored pens every time it is completed. The shocking bar and the big red * * on the test paper are dripping everywhere at dusk and early morning, covering the only way for schools and families to see beautiful flowers.

Mountain-high yellow pages move slowly in the moldy air. Sometimes tears will fall when you recite at home, and books will be thrown out of the window. However, as long as you meditate in Fudan a few times, you will immediately calm down. With a heavy head and a blank heart, I am willing to bury myself in a rotting room. I am persistent, persistent. I don't understand how a person who is used to being sloppy suddenly becomes so safe and feels that the world is moving.

It was the most unforgettable period of senior three.

Up to now, I have been sitting comfortably in an air-conditioned room sorting out senior three books, and I still admire my perseverance and courage at that time. There are several large notebooks filled with annotations, each half-meter-high paper is carefully made, carefully revised and analyzed, and there is also a classic math exercise with a dictionary thickness of 16. There are four or five solutions to each problem, and I have seen 10 many times. In that cold winter and strange spring, I used my chapped hands and rough handwriting to weave the only dream in my heart word by word, question by question. I think this is the influence and change brought by senior three.

Growth is the balance of longing and nostalgia/when it falls/those nights when the moonlight is lost/what kind of sound should be used to comfort/

I like Lao Lang's songs very much. In those days, the old wolf kept me quiet and relaxed. I think if I want to use the music given to me by a person's singing, Lao Lang's is very suitable. The sound of waves is hidden under the calm.

With the shame of 290 people, I made a final struggle with reality with despair. I carefully looked at the weight in my hand, and there was nothing but hard work. I think that everyone who has struggled in senior three has experienced this narrow and beautiful way of blocking all retreat, and they are all feeling the tragic mood in the end.

Filling in volunteers is a deadly thing, far more complicated than I thought, and people can't stand it.

I thought I would smartly fill in the word "Fudan" in my first choice, and then proudly continue my dream. I even imagined what words I would use to fill in and refute if my parents objected or the teacher disapproved. However, that was all I thought before I filled in my volunteer. Thought is thought and reality is reality.

In fact, the process of volunteering has indeed become the most tortuous thing in my senior year.

The teacher repeatedly stressed that we must measure our position according to the scores and rankings of previous major exams and all the performances of senior one and senior two, so my confidence disappeared in the collation and comparison again and again. May I? May I? In front of the banner of "Kill in Fudan", my answer is weaker every time, and my weak voice is shattered in the cruel reality.

At this time, the teachers' original encouraging attitude made a 180 degree turn. They talk to you, use the enrollment rate, and try their best to scare you with the horrible failure examples of previous sessions, so that you can feel the horror of "taking small steps and walking quickly, regretting it too late".

"Conservative, conservative, more conservative." Has become the first principle of voluntary service.

My situation is a little desperate. The poor background of the whole family is not enough to attract the care of any capable person, and their achievements are too weak to shout out. Even though half a year's efforts made me get a slightly higher position in the top 80 of my grade, I have become frustrated in the face of the shadow of 290 and the unattainable threshold of Fudan.

The allies began to retreat.

Some of them gave up because of the five-point promise of an inferior school, some because their father knew the soul of a university, and some because they were confused by the teachers' indecision.

I suddenly became isolated. My father even went to Huazheng behind my back and got a bonus of 10. He taught me all day about the infinite future of law. Finally, even the headmaster said, "You only have a 30% chance to get into Fudan. Think about it. "

In those days, my nerves became more fragile than ever, vacillating and hesitating in unrealized dreams and relatively safe retrogression. A senior of Huazheng actually comforted me with such words: "Fill in our school first. If you really get a high score, it's a big deal to sit at the door of Fudan and cry! "

So I chose to give up. I dare not let Fudan be like a beautiful fairy tale, which only exists orally. I dare not touch that hard stone with an insecure egg. I can't stand the despair of going from heaven to hell after failure. In the cheers of unanimous approval, I wrote down the name of the school I had never thought of, and the word "betrayal" exploded in my mind.

After handing in the form, I sat alone for two hours and sneaked into the campus of Fudan for an afternoon to mourn the disillusionment of my dream. (inspirational article www.lz 13.cn)

Fudan is really beautiful. The overwhelming azaleas are quietly intoxicating on campus, which just sets off the solemn and sacred Fudan campus in my imagination. My tears came down at once. I don't want to, I don't want a dream of 12 to be completely shattered by a thin piece of paper, and I don't want to be ruined by an "insurance" reason for my desperate struggle in senior three this year. I know that nothing can replace Fudan's pivotal position in my heart. What kind of regret can I get rid of if I really get into any department of other schools with high scores and sit at the gate of Fudan and cry?

I know, that hot Sunday afternoon, for me, means a victory in keeping my faith. Now that I think about it, Fudan, who was quiet and beautiful that afternoon, helped me make an important decision of my own.

I finally got my Zhang Zhiyuan watch back under everyone's surprised eyes, and solemnly filled in the four exciting characters "Fudan University". That is really the most comfortable and beautiful four words I wrote in 12. These four words are also the most important decision I have made by myself for so many years, a decision that reflects the initial weight of my life.

I want what I want, even if I get hit hard in the face of reality, even if I fail in the college entrance examination. This is my own choice.

There is nothing worth writing in the days to come. After handing in the volunteer form, we have nothing to worry about It's as simple as reading a good book, writing a good paper and relaxing.

As for the three days being scolded by countless people, I think there is tension, but for us who have been through many battles, it is a special mock exam that we can face calmly. I think I was really calm. I finished all the papers without panic or trembling. The invigilator showed a rare smile. "Finished the exam?" "hmm." My high school is over. When I walked out of the examination room, my feet were a little weak and my brain was buzzing. My whole body is limp, as if my spine had been pulled out. Tired as a hill, I'm tired, really tired. Hand in the paper, as if it had been entrusted for half a lifetime. More than 300 days and nights full of sweat and tears!

That overwhelming feeling flooded in and drowned me silently.

After I got the notice from Fudan, I finally couldn't help looking at the familiar classroom. The last room in the south corridor on the fifth floor, where the youth of senior three flows away. Don't forget that I accidentally inserted a bunch of lavender flowers in a glass bottle on the podium. Small light green petals were scattered among them, swaying gently in the wind.

My friends and I spent the most difficult time in such a room where flowers bloom all the year round. Now, some of them have gone to Beijing, some to Nanjing, or stayed in a distant corner of Shanghai. I think of my classmates burying their heads in messy draft paper to calculate the tension of water, and I think of the scene where I put my feet on the stool in the front seat and recite politics. I carefully buried in my heart every little story full of ups and downs that had been so truly staged in this small room, which is the best testimony of my unforgettable senior three life.

We all came here because of a common goal, and now everyone has to go their separate ways for a new goal. All good things must come to an end. Many boys left tears at the graduation party, whether it was joy or pain. After all, the truth of this paragraph is the most weighty life we have walked hand in hand.

Little by little in more than 300 days and nights of senior high school, like a colorful little flower, blooms in everyone's heart. Perhaps not every flower is earth-shattering, and not every flower can bear rich fruits. But those flowers really once bloomed in the softest place in everyone's heart, and they did leave some fragrance. The shadows of these flowers, together with the third year of high school, are a pair of mature eyes we use to see the world today. This unforgettable experience will affect every choice and decision in our future life.

The flowers are already in bloom. Whether we admit it or not, as long as the flowers bloom, we are unbeaten.