touch

The teacher's touch once brought me soft sounds, bright colors and the hope of dreaming in those dark times.

When I stand at this moment in time and look back at that time that has long passed, I can still clearly see that on the morning of September 1, 1969, the sky was still hazy and I had not fully opened my eyes. I was carrying a brand new red The plastic schoolbag was walking quickly through the alleys of Chengdu with my mother. Little did I realize that within a few moments, a very gentle yet warm touch would remain forever in my memory.

love touch

As the mother walked quickly, she turned around and said these words with an ugly face: "You kid, aren't you just in elementary school? Why are you so excited? Your eyes are bulging in the middle of the night. Look, how do you get there? School? The colors of the two socks are different, and I don’t have time to go back and change them.” I followed him panting, not daring to reply. Finally, when we arrived at the school gate, my mother stopped and suddenly lowered her voice and said to me: "Remember, if someone asks about that person, just say, you don't know." I nodded vigorously. The man my mother was talking about was my father. A year ago, he was thrown into prison for counter-revolutionary crimes.

My classroom is on the second floor of a gray building. As I climb the stairs, my heart is pounding. The answer I have been thinking about for a long time is about to be revealed: What are the teachers and classmates like? Is anyone playing with me? In a trance, I heard my mother talking to someone. I lowered my head and quietly put one foot in front of the other. Suddenly, I felt a very gentle touch on the top of my head. It was not my mother's hand. There was a "Boom!" in my heart, and a strange warmth spread from head to toe. Then, a very soft and pleasant voice came: "Welcome, first grade primary school students." I looked up and saw my teacher. She is young and beautiful, tall, with ear-length hair and particularly slender smiling eyes.

loving teacher

One day, a very strange car parked outside the school gate. The iron gray color always reminded people of the face of a dead person. The windows of the car were sealed horizontally and vertically with thick iron rods. I saw a group of male classmates shouting excitedly: "Let's go see the bad guys! Let's go see the bad guys!" I blushed and ran in the opposite direction. Actually, I can't remember what that person looked like, but I am sure that he must be in that car. I hid in a corner in a daze. I don't know how long it took, but the teacher's voice came from behind: "Oh, so you are here, let's go back to the classroom!" I stood up, and the teacher gently put her hand on my head, and I immediately felt comforted. The teacher sighed slightly: "Did you know? You can't control your origin, and you can choose your path." At that time, although I was young, I understood the meaning of this statement. She pointed to the hole in my clothes and said, "Next time, I will mend it for you."

In the school at that time, the red scarf was a symbol of honor. Those students wearing bright red scarves brought the burning fire wherever they went. How many times have I secretly hung a piece of red cloth around my neck and then taken it off angrily. Until one day, the teacher called me to her office and asked me if I wanted to join the Young Pioneers? I opened my eyes in disbelief. The teacher smiled and patted me on the head for the third time: "Look at you, didn't I tell you before that you have no choice but to choose your own path?" Soon, I was officially sworn in to join the team.

▲Under the glass panel of Teacher Xiaohan’s desk, there is a photo of her when she was a child.

Understanding of growing up

The last time I saw my teacher was after I went to college. By that time, I had grown into a cheerful and happy girl. After twists and turns, I found her residence, and I was very surprised to find that there was a photo of me as a child pressed under the glass plate of her desk. She pointed at me with a serious face and said, "Look at how shy you are!" I asked her if she still remembered the prison van. She thought about it and shook her head. I asked her again why she didn't look down on me at that time, and she asked: "Why should I discriminate against my students?" When sending me out, I longed for her to put her hands on my head again and enjoy the warmth again. But she didn't. I suddenly realized that I have grown up.

The teacher's touch once brought me soft sounds, bright colors and the hope of dreaming in that dark era. I have always had a question in my mind: when I was abandoned by thousands of people, why did the love, kindness and beauty in her humanity shine so brightly? Later, when I accepted the salvation of Jesus Christ and appreciated His vast love, I gradually understood that it was God who put these beautiful things into people’s hearts in advance. When I stand at this time and look back at the time that has long passed, I know deeply that these beautiful things cannot be swallowed by darkness.

Author profile
Hong Xiaohan, a native of Chengdu, Sichuan, currently lives in Thousand Oaks, California. He has two sons and a daughter and works as a risk researcher at Bank of America.