my teacher

My writing teacher is Hu Xiaoli, an English teacher at my high school. She is not tall, she is not old, but her hair is yellow. She is also very undressed, and there are always a few clothes in the whole season, which is in stark contrast with other teachers. The most memorable thing is that her wide face is wearing a pair of deep myopia lenses and lenses that are forever deep eyes. Her image is not good-looking, but she laughs. When she smiles, she reveals a pair of ugly big teeth, and the wrinkles on her face are also stacked. The mantra he often hangs on his lips is: "My blind son."

My teacher is a serious and responsible teacher who does not delay the class of students. Once again, I always had a cold, and I kept coughing. I think the teacher was a lot older. In the classroom, the teacher gave us an analysis and gave us an explanation. However, the students' progress has improved a lot, and their illness is serious. This is the responsibility of being a teacher, a real teacher.

In the eyes of the teacher, we are her children, and she is the mother of dozens of children. Every night, the teacher has to help us to correct the homework, to make myself sleepless, to go to school early to give us classes, and to be angry with some classmates who have not done homework.

I have always treated my teacher as my mother; I have always admired my teacher; I have been worshipping my teacher Hu’s past and have been branded in my mind. The teacher exudes a colorful glow in my impression.

Teacher, I love you.

First day: Cai Zelin