The career of an elementary school, like a string of arrows, is far away from us and will never return. I used to go to class together, lived together, and cried and laughed over the classmates who had played. Some went to this middle school, some went to that school, and the students who went to work all started a new life. The separation at once made me feel a little uncomfortable. Some people comforted me: "Primary school students are not worth remembering. You remember them, they don't necessarily remember you!" I was better in my heart. However, is it not worth living in the six-year life of the same class? The answer is a positive sentence: it is worth remembering. Like me, I still remember an interesting thing in elementary school. When I was in elementary school, my class was on the third floor. I could directly see the office of the "old class" (class teacher), and our class was a "missile class" (ie, a class of horror). So a dedicated correspondent is essential. The job of the correspondent is to report the position of the class teacher. Usually, the teacher is not in the classroom before the class, and the teacher's whereabouts are monitored at any time. At that time Marlboro Gold, we had a L Jun in our class. It was a good thing to be born, so the correspondent was none other than him. During a big class activity, all the students in our class were lazy downstairs to go to the event, and they were noisy in the classroom, and they were upset. At this time, L Jun suddenly rushed in from the doorway corridor and shouted: "Blue alarm! The class teacher went downstairs!" As soon as we heard it Carton Of Cigarettes, we immediately reflected the condition and "squatted" to everyone. But still playing, but not in the bottom. Anyway, the teacher hasn't come up yet, and then it's fine! At this time, L Jun, who had just returned to the outside and continued to whistle, excitedly shouted: "Green alert! The teacher went to WC!" The original "old class" went downstairs and turned a corner to the toilet Newport Cigarettes. The classroom is re-enacting. Everyone continues to have fun. "Orange alert! Orange alert! The class teacher went upstairs!" So we sneaked away, and I didn't dare to go back to my seat. I was worried that the class teacher had heard our noise in the corridor. "Red alarm! The class teacher went to the second floor and turned!" L Jun pressed his voice down and took a smog like a fire. He returned to his seat and went to the class to see the ones sitting next to the noodles. Straight, a little bit of the second monk could not help but ask: "What are you doing this straight? Going on the activity!" We took a long sigh of relief, a loud bang, except the plants in the class. , bugs and old classes, no other life for six years, time hurriedly across the books, crossed the ink bottle, crossed the desks and chairs, crossed our minds, leaving us a good memory. Whenever I miss my class with only thirty-one classmates, looking at this elementary school graduation group photo, my mouth can't help but recall the past, and the future classmates, please remember the one we walked together. A beautiful golden childhood.
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