Ground of the cooked rice

When I came back from dinner in the afternoon, I passed the student canteen and saw the cook collecting the rest meals for the students to feed pigs to the nearby farmers. When I saw such a half Basin, I suddenly felt very uncomfortable. I am not such a thrifty person. I wasted a lot of things in my daily life. What’s more, in such a space as school, there is nothing wrong with the cook’s behavior. It is impossible for the students to eat the rest of the food by themselves, and of course, it is impossible to sell the food to the students for the second time, so as to feed pigs, at least it has played some role, which is not a waste. But when I lowered my head and saw the floor at the gate of the canteen, I was angry because there were meals scattered by students everywhere. Those rice dishes were shiny and shiny, some were accidentally spoiled by students, and some were thrown away on purpose because they didn’t like to eat. I wanted to find those students, but all the students left. In fact, even if I found those students, what could I do? Criticism and education may play some role. Besides, I can’t watch them at the gate of the canteen every day. He had to shake his head and went back to the office. He was suffocated. I remember that when I was young, my family didn’t have enough food, because the grain output was very low at that time, and at the end of the year, I could only earn hundreds of Jin of rice. My intestines and stomach are not very good since I was young. Other children can digest everything they eat, but I can’t. Every time I eat corn, I will suffer from indigestion. My parents love me very much, so every time I cook, just cook rice for me alone. My parents only eat rice with me on festivals and festivals. Later, the yield of paddy field increased due to the planting of improved rice, and the times of eating rice at home increased. I remember the year when we started to plant improved rice. At the beginning, everyone was confused, because it was a brand new thing after all. But when the autumn harvest came, seeing the harvest more than doubled, my father was delighted. From then on, my father became more energetic in his work. Because I was in poor health and lazy when I was young, and my parents thought I was still young, I was usually not called to work. Until one time, I remembered that I was already in the third grade at that time, and it was the time to harvest corn. When I came home from school in the afternoon, my father said that my neck was uncomfortable, so he asked me to help look at it. When my father squatted down in front of me and took off his coat, I felt distressed, because there were blood marks on my father’s shoulder, and several of them were worn out, the bright red meat was exposed. Many years later, when I recalled the past events related to my father, that picture always appeared in front of me. I clearly remembered that the blood on my father’s shoulder was printed under the sunlight, with red light. At the age of twelve, it was also autumn. Because of the busy work at home, I gradually realized the hard work of my parents. When collecting corn, I also went to work in the fields. Because I was afraid of the pain that the corn leaves cut on my face, I carried the corn. After all, I didn’t have to wear it in the corn field. Because I had never done a similar job before. When I just carried the corn on my back, I felt very relaxed and carried it more greedily. But after walking for a while, I can’t drive any more. Therefore, I vent all my anger on the corn cobs in the basket, and throw the corn cobs in the basket everywhere. When the corn in that field was harvested, father asked us to go home first and said he had something to do. When it was getting dark, before my father came home, I went to the ground to find my father. I found that my father was searching for the corn cobs thrown away by me. I called him and he ignored me, I just looked up and glanced at me, and my eyes were full of disappointment. That night, my father didn’t scold me, but told me a lot about their childhood, most of which were related to food. My father told me this before going to bed. Because I came from the countryside and experienced all kinds of labor personally, my affection for food is much deeper than that of my peers in the city and many children who are not divided into five grains now. In their view, grain is just particles in the pockets of grain and oil stores. As for how the food came from, they seldom cared about it, and there was no need to care about it. Anyway, eat more if it is delicious, eat less if it is not delicious, or simply pour it out. As a teacher in a rural school, I always like to ask students to cherish food and crops in class meetings. However, every time I see it, it is the impatient eyes of children. I know, I am annoyed when I say too much, but this is also something I can’t help. In our hometown, every family has to raise a few chickens, not for eating meat or selling money, just to eat the rice grains we sow inadvertently when we eat. However, in the school canteen, what can eat the rice grains scattered by children? Those rice grains, like the dust under the ground, cannot resist the fate of being cleaned and then thrown down. Chuheridangwu, sweat wo soil. Who knows that it is hard to plate Chinese food. Even children in kindergarten recite this poem, but how many people can understand the true meaning of the poem, let alone children, even if we are adults? Some people say that the history of human beings is a big book, which is not bad at all. But for a grain of rice, how can their history be explained clearly in a few words? From ploughing to raising seedlings, from transplanting to irrigation, from ploughing grass to harvesting, and then grinding into rice, every step step step step by step is not allowed to be careless at all. It can be said that the whole life of a grain of rice is the whole process of a farmer from hope to joy. How much tiredness, sweat and painstaking efforts have been spent in this process, I’m afraid only farmers themselves understand. Every harvest season, whether it is May of wheat yellow or autumn of rice fragrance, is the moment when farmers have the greatest sense of accomplishment. Just think about it, after more than half a year of careful cultivation, a weak seedling finally becomes the power of life continuation. How can they have no sense of accomplishment. A friend who wrote poems said that farmers were the best poets in the world, because they wrote poems in the fields every day, and the name of that poem was life. Watching the cook sweep the rice grains scattered by the child together and prepare to throw them down, my love increased a little bit. In a trance, I saw a drop of glittering tears: a group of people, both men and women, some raised seedlings in the seedbed, some transplanted rice in the rice seedling field, and some mowed grass at the edge of the field, some of them are waving their waists and holding tears when they are turning over the rice. Like (prose editor: Shu Kuang) change the way to continue to stay with this city I went out at 6 o’clock in the morning and came back at almost 8 o’clock in the evening. From beginning to end, I only welcomed myself with silence; Since I went to college, on weekends… [Original essay] string words Since winter, the sky is dry and the snow is misty. The whole earth is desolate and empty. 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